A place filled with mostly unfinished stories. Begun primarily as a direct result of my association with the OC Writer's Guild
“Good morning Miss Lilly,” he proffered a card.
“Abner Cluck, Acme Insurance.”
“Do you have adequate protection for your business?”
“The girls are responsible for their own, you say?”
“Sorry, I thought this was your house,
you were the madam in charge.”
“Do you think we should try?”
“I do.”
“If we risk it, we might lose everything.”
“But if we don’t… we lose the opportunity.
“If we lose everything, we can probably rebuild, if we lose this chance – we never get it back.”
If you can do this, I can promise these,
A skill,
A trade.
Passion for what you do.
The respect and admiration of your peers.
True love,
Family you can cleave to.
Good health,
A long, full life.
Nothing more, nothing less.
With cover design to lure the unsuspecting scholar
The Stone is but an opuscule, penned by Margolies.
Inside, printed with a serifed typeface on rag paper, is truth.
Truth to set you free, to make you run.
Perhaps, to get you killed.
The work-night was over; still too early for dawn.
“See ya, Jimmy,” Darlene said to the doorman.
Stepping into the morning chill she adjusted her scarf.
“G’nite, Miss Drake!”
She walked away from beneath the darkened marquee that read:
“Girls, Girls, Girls”
“No, it’s not simple,” I said, “but I’ve done this before,”
I set the second glass down in front of her
“Beeblebrox himself, taught me the secrets.”
She lifted the glass high, “Bottoms Up.”
Things’ll start to get interesting right about…
My mother wouldn’t like Jillian.
Jillian knows what she wants.
Excepting my mother, Jillian is the most stubborn woman I know.
Neither she nor I care what Mother might say.
Mother doesn’t know what Jillian brings to the table.
But I do.
Run out for a bite.
Run for office.
Run a risk of getting hurt.
Run the gauntlet.
Run around (with Sue).
Run it up a flagpole.
Run another test.
Run along now.
It’s none of my business how you run this place.
Mechanics, punctuation, verb tenses, and the like
I used to think I couldn’t allow these, to intrude on my story.
I’ve since come to realize that without proper attention to these
No one reads what I write.
So what’s a dangling participle?
“Drink this,” I said,” but be careful. Never get cavalier with a gargleblaster.”
She held it to the light, downed it, and wiped her sleeve across her mouth, “Damn,” she said salaciously, “I don’t care about this though, something doesn’t add up.”
tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice 