Category Archives: Stories

Fantasy Writing Prompts: Easter 2017

Fantasy Writing Prompts: Easter

It’s Easter weekend! A three day weekend filled with family, friends, and fantasy for Les and me. So we took some of the Easter traditions and put a fantasy spin on them for this week’s writing prompts!

I’m still determined to complete the Brix and Gregor draft by the end of the month. We’re at the halfway mark of the month and there are ten chapters remaining. I may have to postpone the next Saving Time for a week to really focus on ending the first draft. I’ll make the announcement by Tuesday if I decide to postpone.

Happy Easter and Happy Writing!

Fantasy Writing Prompts-Easter2017-Let the dragon egg hunt begin!
“Let the dragon egg hunt begin!”
Fantasy Writing Prompts-Easter2017-Once a year, the rarely seen Jackalope will venture out to lay its multicolored eggs.
Once a year, the rarely seen Jackalope will venture out to lay its multicolored eggs.
Fantasy Writing Prompts-Easter2017-The children raised their weapons to slay the invading swarm of bloodthirsty bunnies.
The children raised their weapons to slay the invading swarm of bloodthirsty bunnies.

 

More From Holloway’s Hideaway!

Easter Themed Dungeons & Dragons

The Survivor – A Flash Fiction

Tipsy Scribbles: Coloring Pages

Three Day Weekend Comic

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Saving Time: Part 7 TGIF

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Re-read last week’s!

Saving Time - A Flash Fiction - READ FREE

It’s finally Friday!

That had been everyone’s mood today. No one did much of anything except the occasional shuffling of random objects from one spot to the next to appear busy. They were riding out the clock, keeping an eye on the time while doing as little as they could without getting reprimanded.

I, on the other hand, sorted my papers at a fold-up table in a dark and dusty corner behind Darlene’s desk. Blue Tie had found the table shoved in a long forgotten supply closet. I had to sweep off the cob webs before he would touch the damned thing. A wobbly table was better than sitting in the floor.

The door bell chimed and I didn’t bother turning around, thinking Darlene would do her job, for once.

“Excuse me, I need change for this,” called a woman’s voice. I looked back to see a frazzled mother of three: an infant strapped in a harness to her front, a toddler perched on her hip, and another child clinging to her leg. She smelled strongly of baby powder and dirty diapers, and a red sucker was glued to her pants with sugary spit.

She waved a crisp one hundred dollar bill in front of her. Darlene never acknowledged the woman and vise versa. I crossed over to her and took the bill.

“Darlene, I need change for this–”

Darlene hit a button on her keyboard and a money drawer popped out from under the counter, ramming into my knee caps. I pulled out five twenty-dollar bills and held them out to the woman.

“What good does this do me?” she spat. The woman looked at the twenties like they had been fished from a toilet bowl. “I need money for the quarter machines. Are you stupid? You’re job is not that hard.” Two of the three children began to cry while the third suddenly started running in circles.

After counting out her one hundred dollars worth of quarters, she slammed her hand onto the counter. “How dare you try to steal my babies’ money! I saw you put that money in your pocket!”

Before I could defend myself, a coworker –the petite girl with the foul mouth– marched in to join the drama-fueled screaming match. Darlene pulled her phone out from between a sweaty fat roll and began filming the entire show.

I just want to go home. I walked away to return to my monotonous work.

The door chimed again, barely audible over the commotion, and Mr. Acetone walked in. His face immediately stretched into a ferocious smile and his eyes grew wide. The man looked as if he had just won the lottery. He scanned both women up and down several times as he approached the counter beside them.

“Excuse me ladies, how are we today?” He didn’t seem to notice he was being ignored by everyone present. He walked around to the mother, almost colliding with her child still twirling in circles. “That is a lovely perfume you’re wearing, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” she said without looking at him. “I’m a little busy at the moment,” then continued with her shouting, that had dissolved into nonsensical blather.

I glanced at the time on Darlene’s computer. Our shift ended in five minutes. I wasn’t planning on staying to see if this drama-fest ever resolved, so I pretended to sort papers when the door chimed again.

“Give me all the money!” a muffled voice bellowed.

A man in a ski mask had a gun held in his outstretched hand, pointing it snakingly at the mob of dysfunctional adults. The twirling child peeled his sucker off his mother’s pants and gave it to the robber.

The door chimed, again. A male police officer, who appeared to be thirteen months pregnant, walked in. He held a large doughnut box in one hand and a pizza box in the other. He didn’t seem to be in a rush. “What’s all this about?” he asked the group, powdered sugar cascading from his neatly trimmed mustache.

Never taking his attention from the women, Mr. Acetone took a hundred dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to the robber. “So, about those drinks, ladies? I’m buying.”

Offering a smirk to the police officer, the robber pocketed the money and shoved his gun down his pants.

“Sorry to interrupt.” The police officer belched. “I’m here for the weekly pick-up. Everything ready to go?”

“It’s probably in the back,” Mr. Acetone said. “Look for the fella with the tie.”

The officer offered the group, robber included, his left over pizza and doughnuts before departing.

I declined as politely as I could and looked at the time. On the dot. “Mr. Acetone, can I go?” But I didn’t wait for an answer.

More From Holloway’s Hideaway!

Tipsy Scribbles 

The Book – A Flash Fiction

Mystery Writing Prompts

Sword of Unquenchable Thirst

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Romance Writing Prompts: April 2017

Romance Writing Prompts

We’re back this week! And we are offering four new romantic writing prompts for your inspiration. It’s time to write your very own love story or add a romantic subplot to an ongoing story! Don’t forget to share your stories and artwork with us!

I have set myself the goal of finishing the Brix and Gregor first draft by the end of this month. I have eleven chapters remaining at the time of typing this. The story is going to need a lot of work. My excitement over the project has certainly waxed and waned to dramatic extremes. Once the draft is complete however, I plan to take a couple of weeks away from it before trying to make it readable. In that time, I will begin drafting a new story for Detective Peirson.

Romance Writing Prompts-Apr2017-Their love forbidden, they lived side by side as victims of a cruel fate.
Their love forbidden, they lived side by side as victims of a cruel fate.
Romance Writing Prompts-Apr2017-Her lips were petals of flame against the icy fingers of her lost love.
Her lips were petals of flame against the icy fingers of her lost love.
Romance Writing Prompts-Apr2017-He knew this was only a spell but the damage had been done; he was in love.
He knew this was only a spell but the damage had been done; he was in love.
Romance Writing Prompts-Apr2017-This love was so pure it would smolder within their hearts for all eternity.
This love was so pure it would smolder within their hearts for all eternity.

 

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Forgiveness – A Flash Fiction

Tipsy Scribbles

How To Comic: Have A Perfect First Date

They Came and Got Barbara! A D&D Narrative

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Saving Time: Part 6 Human Resources

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Re-read last week’s!

Saving Time - A Flash Fiction - READ FREE

I walked with determination to the Human Resources building. Something about what the kid said yesterday morning had left me feeling uneasy. Surely no robots were going to harm Sharron, but the kid seemed very scared regardless.

Finding the location of the HR department was excruciatingly difficult, which did not help relieve my “funny feeling”. When I had asked Darlene for directions, she replied, “It is not available at this time,” in a monotone voice, void of any emotion.

Luckily, my access to mass amounts of paperwork paid off. A fax from the HR department was tucked into one of my stacks. It simply read “5318008” with a header of an address at the top of the page. Located four blocks down the road in an old boutique once named Toot-A-Lou, the store had only been operational for a week before being bought out by Saving Time.

The sign on the door, like the other building, had a hand-written sign reading “Human Resources and Complaint Management” taped over Toot-A-Lou. The notice of pending eviction was still taped to the door, signed with two flourished letters: JA.

I pushed the door open and was immediately greeted by gunshots. I jumped back, wide-eyed, looking for a robbery only to see a violent video game being played on a large screen mounted to the far wall. Behind the front desk, the back of a leather chair was facing toward the door. I could see a pair of sneakers propped on the desk.

The chair’s occupant called out, “Hold on, I need two more kills.”

“This is kinda important,” I said. “Do you think you could pause it?”

“For Christ’s sake!” he yelled out. “You can’t pause an online game. I said two kills.” He laughed then raised his hands, one of them holding a controller, in a victorious fashion.  He threw the controller down and spun the chair around. “Now, what is it–,” he started to snarl but stopped. His entire demeanor flipped, “Well, hello, beautiful,” he said with a toothy grin. “What can I do for you today? Or tonight?” and gave me a wink with sparkling blue eyes.

I forced my own eyes not to roll upward with repulsion, “I need to speak with HR about something that happened yesterday.”

He completely ignored every word I had just spoke. “You know what ‘HR’ stands for? Hot and ready.”

Don’t throw up. “I need to report–”

“An all you can eat buffet?” He waved his hands over his upper body, “Open 24/7.”

Good god, I need a  human resources to report the human resources!

He motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat, babe. Tell me all about this ‘report’.”

I remained near the front door, wondering why this kid seemed so familiar. “You’re human resources?”

“Uh, yeah. Dad said something about managing all the complaints or whatever,” he said, air quoting all the work-related words.

“Dad?” I asked. The smile, the eyes, the cringe-worthy pickup lines all added up to one thing.

“Jack Jr.” He looked around his cluttered desk and placed a wooden name plate on the edge of his desk with pride. Engraved on the metal plate: Jack Acetone Jr., HRR.

“Are you even old enough to work?” He certainly didn’t look like it.

His smile faded, but only just, “I’m sixteen, baby. I’m old enough.”  Then the family smile returned.

“I think I’m gonna go thank you bye!” I scrambled for the doorknob.

“Wait,” he called out and jumped over his desk after me.

I was already heading to my car to get my cell phone. I got in and locked the car doors behind me. I fished around in my glove compartment for that business card the weird girl had given me and keyed in the number.

The line rang three times before a foreign voice answered, “Ciao. Cos’è?”

“It’s Bobby, I work at Saving Time,” I replied, not understanding what he had said. “This girl gave me your number for HR–”

“Ah, English,” he said, the Italian accent still thick. “This Conscience Cleaners. We make mess disappear! Who the problem?”

 

More From Holloway’s Hideaway!

Tipsy Scribbles

Premade D&D Character: Elf Wizard

Brix – A Flash Fiction

Mystery Writing Prompts

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Saving Time: Part 5 Babysitter

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Read Part 4 here!

Saving Time - A Flash Fiction - READ FREE

“Mr. Acetone!” Blue Tie gasped in surprise as he came through the makeshift doorway at a jog. He was holding a lanky child out like it was an explosive, feet dangling. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I told you he was coming,” Darlene said, agitated.

“So soon,” Blue Tie stammered, as if it were the end of his previous sentence. He pushed the child at me and dusted his hands, like the child was filthy even though it was not. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

I sat the child down in front of me. He was heavier than he looked. The child starred at me in silence. “What?” I asked the kid, then Blue Tie, “What?”

“Who brought their baby to work?” Mr. Acetone yelled and waited for a response, even though the other workers were out of earshot.

“I’m six!” the child yelled back, loud and proud. “Where’s my mommy?”

“That’s Sharron’s son,” Blue Tie said, as if that should answer any and all questions.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Mr. Acetone asked Blue Tie and ignoring the child.

“Only on Tuesdays and Fridays. And sometimes Wednesdays, or Thursdays. But never Monday.” Blue tied managed to shake his head vertically and horizontally within seconds of each other. He looked like a bobble head traveling down a back road on the dash of a suspensionless vehicle.

“Let’s have a word with Sharron, shall we?” Mr. Acetone strode towards the clock factory with Blue Tie scurrying in his wake.

The little boy squinted at me. “Are you one of them?” he asked and pointed a tiny finger at Darlene.

Darlene’s chair squealed in protest as she turned to look at us. “He has toys in the break room,” she said. Her eyes lingered on the child. He grabbed my leg and hid behind me, using me as a shield against her gaze.

I picked him up and adjusted him onto my hip. He was too big to be held like this. “We’ll go find you some toys,” I said. I took him through the back of the bank through a maze of hallways.

“Over there,” he pointed towards a door to my right.

“Do you wanna walk?” I asked. He just shook his head. Of course you don’t.

I could hear talking, including a string of swearing, coming from various rooms as we moved through the hallways. The kid maintained a tight grip around my neck, pulling out some of my hairs.

“They’re scary,” he whispered loudly into my ear. I could feel his spit spraying the side of my face.

“Yeah, I know, they scare the crap out of me, too. It’s like an asylum ran by the patients.”

“That’s a bad word,” he whispered again, but not directly into my ear. “What’s a eyeslam?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry. An a-sy-lum. It’s a hospital for…” I searched for the right word.

“Robots?” he whispered again.

I looked puzzled. That was not even close to the word I was looking for.  He pushed himself from my arms as we entered the break room. He ran over to a toy chest in the corner and rummaged around for a moment. Finally he emerged from the toy box with a half-transformed Transformer clutched tightly to his chest. He crossed the room and held it out to me.

He pointed to a strip of plastic painted blue on the toy’s chest, “Robots. In the ah-size-em.”

I could hear footsteps coming down the hallway towards us. He heard them too and clutched the broken toy close to him while burying his face in my armpit.

“I know it’s a lot to think about,” Mr. Acetone was saying, “but you know what they say about promotions.”

Mr. Acetone, Blue Tie, and Sharron entered the break room.

“There’s the little guy!” Blue Tie burst in with what he likely thought was a playful voice. The kid and I both jolted in our seat. “And our little organizer,” Blue Tie exclaimed upon noticing me. He turned to Mr. Acetone. “Bobby is the one I was telling you about.”

An inappropriate rap song sounded from Mr. Acetone’s back pocket before he had a chance to comment. “I have to take this,” he said, looking at the large screen. “I’ll be back later, Sharron, to talk about that promotion.”

The child ran to his mother. She looked nervously at me. “Thank you for watching him.” Her eyes drifted towards Blue Tie, who had thrown the transformer toy into the garbage, rather than the toy chest. She whispered in her son’s ear then asked, “Do you want to say ‘thank you’ to Bobby?”

The boy got down and ran over to me, pulling my neck to his face. I leaned down to give him a hug when he whispered into my ear. His tight-lipped words were difficult to understand, “Don’t let the robots take my mommy.”

Continue Reading!

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Tipsy Scribbles

Forgiveness – A Flash Fiction

Home Improvement Part 1 Comic

Kids Writing Prompts

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Kids Writing Prompts: March 2017

Kids Writing Prompts

I feel as if I constantly repeat myself on these intro paragraphs. There’s only so many ways to set up our weekly prompts I suppose. This week’s writing prompts are for the younger audience, or at least the young at heart. Don’t forget to share your stories and artwork with us on Facebook and Twitter!

I wrote two chapters in the fantasy draft yesterday. Yes, the one about Brix and Gregor. My confidence in the project is waning, but I’m about halfway through my projected outline. That evil little voice of doubt is awfully loud lately. Pen to paper, however. I must write through the doubts. The chaos of the first draft can always be stitched together later. As you can imagine, Brix isn’t following the draft outline very well. She has a will all her own.

Kids Writing Prompts-Mar2017-The ginger cat introduced himself to the lost child.
The ginger cat introduced himself to the lost child.
Kids Writing Prompts-Mar2017-After several crashing attempts, the cardboard box began to fly.
After several crashing attempts, the cardboard box began to fly.
Kids Writing Prompts-Mar2017-This time the moon was following him home.
This time the moon was following him home.

 

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Echoed – A Flash Fiction

Tipsy Scribbles

Fleeing Nar Shadda: A Star Wars RPG Narrative

Grown-Up Goggles Comic

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Saving Time: Part 4 Mismanaged

Start from the beginning!

Read Part 3!

Saving Time - A Flash Fiction - READ FREE

The next morning, I arrived in the parking lot seconds before the other employees. We simultaneously swarmed the entrance of Saving Time, like bees to their hive.

Blue Tie snagged my sleeve as I walked though the door. “Not so fast, Missy,” and led me back to the bank side where Darlene was lighting a new cigarette. “You have to finish your work from yesterday.”

“But I did–,” my eyes stared blankly at several new mountains of paperwork. Was she here all night making this mess for me to sort?

Darlene glanced at me with devious eyes before she waved Blue Tie to her computer screen. She pointed a greasy fingertip to the glass, “Can you believe her?”

Blue Tie’s shoulders sagged. “Would you please not start drama today, Darlene?” He nodded to the screen, “Not with Mr. Acetone coming in.” I noticed Darlene roll her eyes as Blue Tie began trotting away.

“Everyone, get this place cleaned up ASAP! Mr. Acetone is on his way!” Blue Tie called out, his voice fading into the back of the building.

“Who’s Mr. Acetone?” I asked Darlene, her attention focused solely  on what looked like someone’s personal Facebook profile. As if in response, a low rumbling, like thunder, came from the street and rattled the piles of empty food containers littering Darlene’s work space.

“Mr. Acetone is here!” she spoke in a sing-song voice, running her fingers through her stringy hair, leaving behind slick streaks.

I looked up from the endless tower of papers to see monstrous wheels creep passed the glass door. It was the largest pickup truck I had ever seen, outside of the monster truck rallies on television. It had an extended cab, extended bed, several sets of lights, and four exhaust pipes.

The driver parked directly in front of the buildings’ entrances, half on the curb, dangerously close to the doors. The door to the bank flew open and in strode —

“Mr. Acetone,” Darlene squeaked.

The man’s flawless blonde comb over grazed the door frame as he stepped in and he removed his aviator sunglasses. His physique was that of a man who had played several seasons of football 30 years ago, but now his age was catching up, whether he liked it or not. He flashed an overly white smile at Darlene and sauntered up to the desk and placed a thick elbow on the counter. “Morning, darlin’. How are we today?”

Darlene beamed. I could taste stomach acid rising up into my mouth.

“We’re great, Mr. Acetone,” Darlene spoke in a professional voice I wasn’t convinced belonged to her. “Here are the numbers from last week, your emails, lunch menus for today, your balanced checkbook,” she leaned over to reach under her desk. For a moment, I thought I heard her chair leg crack. She pulled out a tan garment bag and more papers, “And your dry cleaning, yesterday’s mail, that recipe you asked for, the information on the four wheeler in the paper, and…” She started looking around her desk, lifting up old candy bar wrappers, then pulled an envelope out from between her stomach rolls. “Here it is! The names of the new ladies,” she placed the envelope on the counter beside the pile of other junk.

When the hell did she do all this sh–

“It is a miracle this place ever functioned without you, sweetheart,” Mr. Acetone peeled his arms out of his black leather jacket and handed it to Darlene. “Hold on to that for me, love. I need to introduce myself to the new hires.” He started to open the envelope, “Where’s Boss Lady and that puny fella that always wears the same blue tie?”

Darlene never took her eyes from the man. “I haven’t seen them.”

Lie. I chuckled under my breath, returning to my so called work.

“I remember when you first started here,” Mr. Acetone cooed at Darlene, but was looking over the paper in his hand. “And how long have you been here, love?”

“Oh, um…” Darlene seemed confused by the question.

“Not you,” he snapped at Darlene, still lost in thought.

I looked up to find him starring directly at me, sitting in the floor amongst the heaps of paperwork. “Well, hello there,” his ice blue eyes seemed to burn behind his too bright smile. “And who are you?”

“Bobby,” I answered immediately. The thought of this guy knowing my real name made me uncomfortable. For the first time, I was glad to have a pseudonym.

“Nice to meet you, Bobby.” He winked and flexed what little muscle he still had under the accumulative flab. He extended a meaty hand and waited for me to shake it.

I slowly rose from the floor, mentally listing the things I would rather do.

With one jolting shake, he said, “Jack Acetone. This,” he indicated the entirety of the bank, his gaze lingered way too long on Darlene, “is mine.” He looked at the crumbling hole in the wall and the clock factory beyond. “I suppose that, too, now.” He returned his piercing eyes to me, “Hopefully soon, you’ll become a valuable employee like our dear Darlene.”

Continue Reading!

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Tipsy Scribbles

Fantasy Writing Prompts

Premade D&D Character: Elf Wizard

Bayview Residence Map

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Fantasy Writing Prompts: March 2017

Fantasy Writing Prompts

This week will mark two years that I have been married to my best friend. Amazing, talented, beautiful, and eccentric. Les is the artist and editor of Holloway’s Hideaway and, as you could imagine, this site would not be remotely possible without her. Fantasy is an important aspect of our lives. We write, draw, play, and live in vast worlds of fantasy. Naturally, this week’s prompts are full of fantasy potential. These prompts are waiting for your story, so get to creating your own worlds and adventures!

Happy anniversary, sweetheart. Thank you for standing at my side while we make our fantasies a reality. I love you!

Fantasy Writing Prompts-Mar2017-Their skeletons danced in the moonlight.
Their skeletons danced in the moonlight.
Fantasy Writing Prompts-Mar2017-Faceless eyes peered from darkened corners.
Faceless eyes peered from darkened corners.
Fantasy Writing Prompts-Mar2017-The heat intensified as she accidently summoned her first fireball.
The heat intensified as she accidently summoned her first fireball.
Fantasy Writing Prompts-Mar2017-The trees whisper a warning of the approaching forces.
The trees whisper a warning of the approaching forces.

 

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Forgiveness – A Flash Fiction

Tipsy Scribbles

Premade D&D Character: Dwarven Cleric

Writing Prompts for Settings

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Saving Time: Part 3 Overtime

Start from the beginning!

Read Part 2!

 

Saving Time - A Flash Fiction - READ FREE

 

I had spent my last miserable work hours tediously sorting piles of paperwork, after spending my first hours sorting out rusty clock parts. I was more than relieved to be home opening the bottle of wine that had been chilling in the refrigerator since my birthday. I poured a generous glass and flopped onto the couch. I reached for the tv remote when my phone rang.

The unfamiliar ten digit number flashed while the phone vibrated in a small circle. I contemplated throwing it across the room, and whether or not my phone would survive.

“Hello?”

“Hey, uh, Bobby?” It was Darlene. Her words were spaced with heaving breaths every few syllables, as if she had been running. I knew that was not the case. “They need you. To come in. Now. I couldn’t find you. On Facebook. So, I had to. Call you.”

I looked down at my glass of wine. “Am I getting paid?”

“Yeah.”

“Overtime?” One could be hopeful.

“No,” she said flatly and ended the call.

I placed my glass in the refrigerator and set out, once again, to this hellish place I now called work.

I arrived before everyone else, again, and decided to park at the end of the block. I waited as the cars descended upon the parking lot like flies on fresh dog shit. After taking her parking spot back, the petite girl exited her car, still streaming profanities, and entered the bank without sparing a glance for anyone.

Blue Tie opened the door and leaned out, motioning everyone inside the buildings. “Bobby! You came back!” he beamed with awe as I approached.

Yeah, I can’t believe it either. I grinned, gritting my teeth.

“Come with me,” Blue Tie instructed to those who had shown up, then jogged away towards the back of the clock shop.

Namer was slumped against the wall, seeming to be asleep.

Then it hit me. The putrid, sulfuric odor assaulted me like a physical force. “What is that smell?”

“The Separator is leaking again,” choked Blue Tie. “We need to find the leak.” He went to a corner and grabbed a cardboard box.

“I don’t know anything about machines,” I said, thinking back on all the appliances I had thrown out when they refused to work.

“Oh, it’s easy! Just take this,” Blue Tie held out the box, which was full of half-used rolls of various tapes, “and follow your nose!” He pinch my nose, like a grandfather does to his helpless infant grandchild.

I pulled the collar of my shirt up over my nose as I and several other people approached the gaseous device. I noticed that no two people had the same kind of tape.

As I rounded the corner to the backside of the machine, I could see far more tape than metal. Duct, masking, electrical, and even scotch were all in abundance.

“Could they not call a repair man?” I asked no one in particular.

“Oh, they did,” said a stocky man to my left, sniffing like a hound. “Pro’lly two years ‘go. He whacked at it a few times with a big ‘ole wrench, then stuck a patch on it. Told management he’d order us a part and come back when it came in.”

“They should call him back,” the smell was beginning to make me light headed.

“They did, but the guy went outta business. We’ve been trying to hold out until he can get that part over to us.” The man reached up to slap a strip of tape onto a random patch of metal.

Continue Reading!

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D&D Narrative: They Came and Got Barbara!

Tipsy Scribbles: My Heroes

Writing Prompts: Fantasy

 

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Dialogue Writing Prompts: March 2017

Dialogue Writing Prompts

I can’t take credit for the prompts this week. Les wrote all of these down while I was working on the new homepage yesterday. The easiest way to describe a character in a story is to let them do the talking. This week, we have four new dialogue prompts for you to start your very own story.

There isn’t much new to report in progress. I am continuing to add to the first draft of the Brix and Gregor story. Beyond that, we’re coming up with ideas for the new satire series, Saving Time, we are sharing for Flash Fiction Friday. I hope everyone is enjoying.

Dialogue Writing Prompts-Mar2017-Are you thinking what I'm thinking he asked the group telepathically.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked the group, telepathically.
Dialogue Writing Prompts-Mar2017-I don't think of you as a protector. More like a distraction.
“I don’t think of you as a protector. More like a distraction.”
Dialogue Writing Prompts-Mar2017-No one tramples my daisies! the ogre growled.
“No one tramples my daisies!” the ogre growled.
Dialogue Writing Prompts-Mar2017-Where is Death when you need her
“Where is Death when you need her?”

 

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Containment Breach – A Flash Fiction

Premade D&D Character: Elf Wizard

27 Lessons I’ve Learned in 27 Years of Life

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