Just for fun - writing prompts

Fuzzytrooper

Based on the relative success of the 6 word stories thread and some creative writing exercises I found online, I have an idea to get the creative juices flowing. We are going to create a story together! "How are we going to do that Fuzzy?" you may ask, and I'm glad you did. Basically each poster will add a paragraph or sentence to the story. They will also include three things that must be answered by the next poster's paragraph/sentence and so on. I'll get things rolling.


He quietly surveyed the city from his office on the tenth floor. It seemed peaceful for now, and that concerned him. Meanwhile, the woman seated behind him waited for his response.


- Who is the man?
- What is he worried about?
- What is his relation to the woman?

Mr E

The woman stood - "30 seconds, Mr. Stevens. What is your answer?"

Stevens felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. How could this happen? Why me? He stared at the skyscraper across the river, as if doing so would prevent catastrophe from happening.

The blackmailer spoke again, a phone pressed against her ear to call it off if necessary - "15 seconds."



- What happens in 15 seconds?
- What are the terms of the blackmail?

redser7

He put the binoculars to his eyes again in the vain hope that this just wasn't happening. It must be a sick joke. He slid the wheel and focussed on the top of the building. Jesus they really are there. A figure in black and a woman, her hair blowing in the gale. She is outside of the guard rail and man has her hands held behind her back.

"The number NOW Mr. Stevens or I tell him to let go!"

- Who is the woman on top of the skyscraper?
- What does Stevens do?

Fuzzytrooper

His shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine..." Stevens croaked weakly. "Fine, just let my daughter go. I'll give you want."

The woman leaned back in her chair smiling. "Now isn't that interesting." she said. "Proceed, please." she continued gesturing towards the laptop that sat on his desk.

Stevens turned back to his desk and began to key in the digits one by one, slowly, painfully before hitting 'Enter'. "Alright it's done. Now let her go."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple Mr. Stevens." The woman replied.

- What happened to Stevens' daughter
- What happened when Stevens entered the numbers

Mr.Nice Guy

"It's done" said the woman to the man on the line. Then she put the phone into her handbag.

"You said you'd let her go. Please."

He turned back to the window and looked up with his binoculars. The rooftop was empty.

"We both know that weapon has an override code, Mr. Stevens. And we can't have you cancelling our little show. Abigail will be coming with us until it's done. Don't worry, it's just an insurance policy. She will be well looked after. I'm sure you understand."

He turned and moved towards her and he saw her put her hand into the bag; he expected her to pull out a gun, but it was the phone. He understood then. She couldn't have got in here with a weapon, but the phone may as well have been one, for it would determine Abigail's fate.

"One button is all I need to press."

"Take me instead."

"That would raise too many eyebrows. And we wouldn't want that, would we? Remember: if you blab, Abigail dies. So you'll walk down that hallway with a big smile on your face, you'll say goodnight to the receptionist without so much as a quiver in your voice. You'll be normal, everyday, 9-5 Stevens. And the girl will live."

She returned the phone to the bag once more and went to leave.

"What are you people planning?"

She held the door and smiled. "A very pretty fireworks display."


- What is the 'fireworks display' they are planning?
- How will Stevens act upon leaving the room?

Mr E

A few blocks away, Charlie was going through his morning routine. He had made enough from begging this morning to get a venti americano from Starbucks. He normally went to the food truck on 7th, but he felt like splashing out today. Now warmed up and wired, he had a good feeling about this morning's hunt.

He waited for the security guards at the front of the bank to be distracted, then ducked down the alley beside it. Soon he was on his second dumpster, having eaten well from the first. The scraps from Chao's were always pretty decent on Saturday.

"Holy sh*t!" - he did a little dance. He found a fur coat. Not his size, but Maggie would love it. He got a handjob for giving her half a sandwich a few weeks ago - he got giddy thinking what she might do for a fur coat. He folded it carefully into his shopping cart and covered it with some newspapers, just to be safe.

Dumpster number three was a miss. Nothing of value. He got to dumpster four and immediately noticed something strange. The lid seemed to be stuck.

He wagged his finger at it. "Not on my watch, assholes!"

Charlie rubbed his hands together and reached into the front left corner of his cart. He pulled out a sturdy crowbar. He knew exactly where it was in case he needed it for self defense. He started working on the lid of dumpster number four. Jesus Christ, he thought, someone has glued the f**king thing shut. They didn't do a very good job, though. He popped the first corner, then the second, then went to work on the bit in the middle. It wasn't budging. He stuck the claw under the lip of the lid and planted his feet on the side of the bin for maximum leverage. He leaned back with all his weight. With a loud ripping noise, the lid flew open as Charlie landed flat on his back.

Looking up from a supine position, he wondered what was casting a strange red glow on the wall behind the dumpster.


(No need for cues, I think we're doing OK so far!)

redser7

Stevens' phone rang. It was Linda. He hesitated, took a deep breath and then answered.

'Hi Hon, what's up?'

'Abigail's not home Paul and she's not answering her phone. I'm worried.'

He glanced at his watch. Six thirty. She was right to be worried, you can't beat a mother's instinct.

'Nonsense, it's only six thirty Linda. She's almost a grown woman. I'm sure she's fine. We need to learn to give her more space.'

'No, it's not like her. She's a good girl. She knows to ring if she's going to be late.'

She was right. He looked across to the top of the building where she had been held. His face creased in anguish, the phone shook in his hand as he tried the wring the life out of it, stop the buzzing noise of his wife's voice. He swallowed and composed himself.

'Look you need to stop being silly. She'll be home soon. I promise. I have to go. I'm sorry but I have to go.' He hung up.

He stared at the mute phone in his hand for a moment then threw it across the office where it smashed off the wood panelled wall leaving a small hole.

The office door burst open.

'Jesus what was that!' Alison stood in the doorway panting, concern written all over her face.

'Nothing. Nothing!' Stevens slumped into his chair and buried his face in his hands. 'Oh Jesus Christ.' he sighed. He pressed the darkness into his eyes with the heels of his hands till his mind filled with brightly coloured geometric patterns. He felt like he as falling from a high place. Before he hit bottom he looked up at her and smiled weakly through his tears. 'Nothing's wrong, go back to work.'

She'd ended it months before. Not because she had wanted to, but because it was simply the right thing to do. But sitting out there day after day directing people into him, when that was where she wanted to be, it was a living hell.

'Oh Christ, what is it Paul? What's happened?' She ran over and took his head in her arms. He let it go then.

'I've ****ed up Ali. Oh god help me I've ****ed up so bad this time. They're going to kill her!'

The words sat dumbly in front of her. Simple words. 'They're going to kill her!' She hesitated to let them in. Her mind refused to allow it. Then slowly, one by one, they dropped into her consciousness like silver coins into a slot.

She looked into his helpless eyes. She met them with steel.

'Who was that woman Paul? Tell me everything.'

femur61

‘Nobody.’

‘Jesus, Paul, look at you.’ Only one time she saw him like this. When she said, ‘it’s either me or her.’ Linda knew the answer before the final words had reached the tip of her tongue. He would never walk away from his children. She couldn’t understand the love a parent had for a child. Her best friend once said to her she would kill for her child.

In a quivering barely audible voice he said, ‘they want the code.’
Alison didn’t know who wanted the code, but the code was worth more than any life. ‘Who wants the code?’

‘They ****ing took Abigail.’ Raising his head slowly as if in pain ‘they have Abigail.’ His face crippled and wet he said, ‘you know what I’ve to do.’
Taking control of the situation Alison picked the phone up put it back on his desk pulling a chair close to him. He could smell her perfume, and longed to put his head on her lap, he needed her. But the coldness she adopted when he chose his wife was impenetrable.

‘Sit up Paul, nobody is getting the code.’

The phone reverberated around the office, the building now empty.

‘Answer it Paul.’

‘Hello.’

‘We are waiting,’ said the same heavily accented voice, ‘and we are losing patience, no, we’ve actually lost patience, hear that scream in the background?’ A long agonizing scream, a woman’s scream was in the background. ‘that’s the first digit; a courier is on his way to you with it as we speak. So do you have it?’

A cold sweat covered his body now as his parental instinct to protect his child took over, even if she was 22 years old, she was sill his child.

‘There are protocols before I can get it,’ a click at the other end followed by a whirring dead sound.

Paul rose from his leather chair and moved across to the picture of the director of intellignce on the wall. He pulled it back to reveal the safe behind it.

‘Paul, ‘ Alison’s quiet voice behind him.

He turned, and she stood in front of him with a 22LR mini revolver in her hand.

Mr.Nice Guy

Her sobbing left her breathless now; she hadn't cried like this since she was a little girl. It had felt as if the cigarette which had been pressed upon her arm was about to pass through one side and exit through the other. She had bitten her lip and tried to stay strong; she had thought of her parents. At first the pain felt manageable, it felt like a strong pinch; but as the man twisted the cigarette, the pain grew more intense. And then there was the smell. The smell of her own flesh burning. She couldn't bear it any longer. She cried out. She heard the sobs of her father on the other end.

'I'm sorry, dad' she wanted to scream. 'I'm sorry.' But she couldn't speak. Every sound was now starting to feel fuzzy and indistinct like a weak radio signal.

'I'm going to pass out' she said to herself.

She heard a door open nearby and footsteps approach. A woman began to argue with the man who had burned her in a language Abigail did not understand. Russian maybe? He was arguing back. The woman patted her on the hand and brushed away the bits of ash from her arm.

'It is okay, Abigail' said the woman. She felt the woman's breath near her face but the voice sounded like it came far away. Abigail thought she could make out a bottle cap being unscrewed and soon she felt cool water being poured on her wound. It brought her back from the brink of unconsciousness - and brought back the pain too. She bit her lip again as her arm began to throb.

Abigail had been blindfolded since they brought her here to what she assumed was a warehouse; it was cold and damp and the air had a musty smell. Although in total darkness since they placed her upon the stool, she had been able to get some sense of her surroundings. She was sure she could make out two men chatting at the far wall at her back. They spoke in the same foreign language. And there was another man who sat a few paces north of her who said nothing, but coughed every so often. Then there was the man who had held her on the rooftop and who had delighted in making her suffer while her father listened on the phone. It was him that she feared most of all. She remembered how he had sniffed her skin as he held her on that rooftop, she remembered the stench of cigarettes on his breath, and she remembered how he ran his coarse hands down the length of her body. She dreaded being left alone with him here. With the woman added to the crew, that left five of them in all.

The woman began wiping Abigail's face with a cloth. 'Stay awake, Abigail.'

The man who burned her laughed and muttered something in his own language. They began to argue again. It was getting more heated now. Abigail heard a banging sound, like a chair being hammered against the ground.

'Stop it,' said the man's voice. Abigail recognised it was an American accent. 'I don't know what you're squabbling about but it's giving me a headache.' He let out a cough.

'I'm sorry,' said the woman. 'It's just that I thought she might pass out, and we wanted Stevens to hear her scream. I'm sorry.'

'She should be sorry' said the man who had burned her. 'I know what I am doing. I know many ways to wake a person up just like I know many ways to kill a person. I think Anna is just feeling sorry for this bitch and I think-'

'Mikhail! I said "Enough"!'

'Sorry, boss' said Mikhail.

She heard her tormentor's footsteps walking away towards the two men at the far wall behind her. The woman, Anna, approached the American and they began to talk in a low voice about something. Abigail could make out little of what they said but the words she picked up on were enough to leave her breathless: 'detonation' 'radius', 'evacuation'.

Something else was also beginning to trouble her: that American's voice. Had she heard it before somewhere?