An activity we were given during Lock down was to pick a sentence starter and create a short story relating to the sentence starter. Once we had written two hundred or more words, we were given a partner. Ourselves and the partner would exchange our stories and carry on the others’. This created a fun experience for both the writers and the readers. Here are my partners and my stories:
This one my partner started and I finished:
The rickety old fishing boat drifted aimlessly out in the open sea, sending ripples dancing across the
otherwise opalescent surface. The boat carried two people, one as old as the boat itself, the other as
young as new fishing rods they both held outstretched over the water. The two were startlingly similar
in appearance, with dark skin the colour of crushed coffee beans, and molten honey coloured eyes.
The old man’s eyes displayed childish mischief and cunning, their honey golden depths twinkling with
unspoken humour. The young girl’s eyes seemed to display an outward wisdom her grandfathers
lacked, and looking into their amber expanse was like trying to find the bottom of the sea.
They sat there gazing at the ocean, the old man with the young eyes and the young girl with the old
eyes, neither speaking to the other, both content to be drifting out to nowhere. A breeze ruffled their hair
and the young girl glanced worriedly into the wind, her gaze flying around in search of… something.
The old man had fallen asleep so she shook him awake, pointing at the dark cloud that had begun to
gather on the horizon. The breeze had transformed into a full blown gale, wind howling over the small
boat, galloping over the two shaking passengers who clutched each other in an effort to stay afloat.
They were in the heart of the raging storm, only able to watch as a mammoth wave rose over them,
yawning towards them like the jaws of a howling beast. It tore their boat apart, plunging the old man and
the girl into the heart of Davy Jones Locker. Sinking was like flying, the girl thought for the last time
before she fell into the all consuming embrace of darkness.
to be continued…
*
Waves crashed over her head as she struggled to keep her head over the water. White foam clouded
her vision as she went under anew. She grappled on for a good while until she began to feel the merciless
wrath of exhaustion. Is this really how I die? she thought, is this really the end? She tried everything within
her power to keep fighting, to fight the endless yawning jaws of the dark beast that was feeding tirelessly
on her strength. So she gave up. She had come to the conclusion that this was the best way to bring an
end to it all. So she let the darkness take her. So she thought…
She was like a sponge full of water. Her organs and tissues were damp and soggy from being in the
water for such a long duration of time. She was brushing death, the dark, engrossing and exhausting
edges of what she very well knew to be the end. Everything she was able to see – whether she had her
eyes open or not – was either black, grey or some other shade in between. She felt as if her body as a
whole was paralysed; she was unable to move, detect where exactly she was, much less what state
she was in. Her mind floated endlessly along the brinks of death, neither conscious, nor unconscious.
As she floated in her head space, she became aware of two things; one, she was exceedingly cold; two,
she was alone. How she was aware of these things without being completely conscious, she did not know.
Intuition, perhaps. Her mind was elsewhere, in a different world full of the bleak colour grey. Endless,
endless abyss. Nothing. Nowhere.
A strong hand latched onto her arm, a second one seizing her other arm, hauling her out of the hole
she dug herself into. Her corpse was dragged over the edge of something hard and rugged, pieces of brittle
wood piercing into her water weathered skin. She was gently laid onto the floor of something hard and
uncomfortable. She heard a gruff, but kind voice;
“It’ll be OK, don’t you worry.”
THE END
This one I started and my partner finished:
I admit I was jealous, but what happened at the talent show was not entirely my fault….
Let me explain…It all started two weeks ago when an abundance of school students tried out for the
annual school talent show, one of those students being my nemesis. I happened to be really grumpy that
day as I spilt my cereal all over my laptop. I stumbled across Lilith (yes that’s her dreadfully ugly name)
while waiting in line. I was holding my props tightly in my hands, knuckles turning white. She sashayed
over to where I was standing, looked me up and down as if saying ‘what are you doing here?.”
“What do you want, you snide beast?,” I sneered at her.
“I could ask you the same thing, fainting goat,” she quickly snapped back at me.
I know, the typical rivalry converse between two that despise each other. I just can’t help myself. Really.
I turned my back to the atrocious beast, minimising her existence within my consciousness to a
nominal, giving her the wonderful cold hand.
Later, when I filed onto the stage to give the judges my entry performance, something horrible happened.
As I was implementing a magic performance, I had many props tucked away here and there. As I was
going about my magical performance everything seemed just fine, to start with. As I pulled my
magician’s wand out to start performing an additional trick, the stage speakers crackled, then blasted a
voice recording of myself – I recognised it immediately. The voice recording was of a younger me talking
about a crush I had on this boy earlier on in my life, I turned the colour of my Grandma’s lipstick in a
matter of seconds. My brain was already hectically putting together a list of possible suspects of this
vicious violation of my privacy. But only one person could be the prime suspect, yes you guessed it,
Lilith. I saw her laughing hysterically out of the corner of my eye. Reality came crashing back down on
me in no time. I was standing in the literal middle of the stage stark red in the face. One of the judges
was politely asking me to leave the stage.
“Can I try again please?,” I stuttered.
Someone laughed.
“I’m not sure that this voice recording illustrates what exactly talent is, darling,” said another judge.
“Y-You don’t understand,” I pleaded. “I didn-”
“I am very sure we understand; please take your leave,” said the same judge.
I stood there for a second utterly gobsmacked at what had just occurred. I floated off the stage, as if
I weren’t alive.
Lilith, was all I thought as I walked home at the end of the day, I will get her back.
Two weeks later: the night of the talent show.
*
The air was tinged with anticipation as people milled around backstage waiting for their calls. People
were doing the final checks on their props, eradicating even the tiniest mistakes that could cause horrific
damage to their acts. I stood there clutching the microphone in my hand, repeatedly going over my cue
cards.
“Too bad we never got to see your entry audition,” came the voice of the dreaded creature from behind
me, “I would have loved to see your immeasurable talent put on show.”
I turned around, bracing my eyes against her hellish appearance. Summoning as much sarcasm into
my voice as physically possible, I said,
“Lilith, thank you so much for contributing your unique point of view, and I feel so much better knowing
I have your support.”
I followed this statement up with a theatrical hair flip, practically sending my glasses flying off my face,
and marched further into the throng of people roaming around backstage. My face was flaming by the
time I reached the changing rooms, and barely contained tears of humiliation stung my eyes, begging to
be released. I wrenched open the door of one cubicle and stumbled in, slamming it shut behind me.
Why, oh why must this woe befall me? I wondered to myself. I don’t quite know what possessed me
then, it was as if I was detached from my body, conscious of what was occurring but no longer in
control. I saw myself ascending the steps up to the stage, Lilith’s horror struck face as she saw me
come onto the raised platform, right in front of where she was performing. I heard her pause mid
rendition of the song “Firework”, her voice screeching to a stop as she shouted at me to get off the
stage. I saw myself floating over to her and wrenching the microphone from her grasp. I started to
stomp my feet, clap my hands, and like the wild things, I gnashed my terrible teeth, and roared my
terrible roar. What happened next was very unexpected. I started to sing, a loud pure song bursting
forth from my chest, like a tidal wave of anger directed at the person standing in front of me. This song
was the result of hours spent sobbing in toilets, of late nights spent worrying what tortures the next day
would bring- this song was from the darkest depths of my heart. I opened my mouth and let the words
flow from me:
Bullies are people you cannot forget,
Bullies are people who do not regret.
Bullies are people who thrive on your fear,
Well I have a question for you bullie dear.
Why, why do you treat us this way?
Does it make you feel better, does it make you feel sane?
I wonder, does it take away your pain?
To see me stranded here this way?
On and on, stomping my feet, clapping my hands, letting these words flow through me. Then suddenly
I was back in my body and everything became too much- the lights, beat, music, shouting. And then I
was brought back to reality with a sharp smack. My hand flew to my cheek and I looked at Lilith with murder in my eyes. I started towards her but was
wrenched back by a security guard and hauled off stage.
Like I said, it wasn’t entirely my fault that the talent show was cancelled.
THE END
