Tell me a story…

I’m the kind of writer you rarely have to bug when it comes to writing.  I tend to make up stories about everything.  I imagine entire lives for strangers.  I can see it all, start to finish: birth, struggle, triumph, loss, favorite ice cream.  This being the case, I rarely do writing exercises.  I sit and stare at a wall and play the movie of a character’s life in my head and write it down when the credits roll.

But this doesn’t mean writing exercises aren’t fun!  Introducing the first reoccurring series here on Sociable Ink:  Tell me a story.  I’m going to post a photo below and I want you to tell me what’s happening.  You can write a few lines or a whole paragraph or a poem or a song or whatever tickles your fancy.  Make me laugh, make me cry, make me fear for your sanity.  Depending on how many entries I get, I’ll probably pick my favorite later in the week.  Keep checking back to see what others have written and feel free to comment on your own favorites!

I’ll add my own story once others have gotten the ball rolling.  Off you go, dear readers!  Off you go!

Think you have a picture that can inspire a story?  Send it:

21 thoughts on “Tell me a story…

  1. “It wouldn’t fit.”
    Those were the thoughts that ran about in his head, lap after lap, before it collapsed in a heaving mass, gulping breath and exhaling invectives. His thoughts lay prostrate, clear as day, as an indomitable truth.
    “It wouldn’t fit.”
    He had miscalculated. But where? A misplacement of a decimal point, an addition gone awry. He did not factor in the tanning process, which would shrink the skin. In this case, two plus two does not equate to four, instead it equals to “it wouldn’t fit.”
    The skin of her leg could not fit over his; her hands would not fit like a glove. He would ridiculous wearing her face that was two sizes too small. He’ll look out of place, a white hair in the middle of a toddler’s head. He wouldn’t fit in.
    Now he’ll have to find something to wear (or to go with) to the “cereal” convention.

  2. Being a hardcore paper activist/enthusiast, Charlie decided to show those girls how it felt to be gaily cut up into scrapbook pieces.

  3. He would forever be inadequate in the eye of the co eds. If only he hadn’t flunked out of med school, scrubs would have replace his plaid shirt and a scalpel his craft scissors. Overall, he took the ‘multipurpose use’ label too far. Now if only he had some super glue to patch it all up.

  4. Stupid,” Dennis grunted as he ran a bloody wrist across his brow. He focused on the adjoining wall as he played back the events that had just occurred. “Amateur.”
    He stared at the body on the floor and back to the one on the bed. He had not anticipated having to get rid of two of them. He had planned everything so carefully. He timed it perfectly. He drove the routes and knew their patterns. Months of preparation where he anguished over every little detail. The kill had been perfect. No blood. No trace of evidence would have been left.
    It was a fluke. Five more minutes and he was out. Why did she have to come home so early?
    Dennis dropped the scissors in disgust. She was not part of the plan. She threw him off of his game. He reacted impulsively, and like a complete amateur, he reached for the first solution to his problem. A messy solution. One that could not be hidden. One thing was for sure… he was not going to be able to get both of these bodies into the trunk of his car.
    “Next time,” he moaned, “it will be perfect.”

      • The tortuous ordel was over. Camie and Carmon Masters had not antispated their last moments in life, as they lured their college classmate Wendel Grimes to an abandon apartment building, with only one room within its standing building suited for his capture. Wendel was unaware of what day it was, he had lost all track of time. Weeks, it had to be weeks, maybe a month or more since his capture. Events leading up to this moment of freedom at last would haunt him to his dying day. The beast driven beauties tricks of deciet and torture became a backwards flash back in his mind as he kneeled cold hearted beside Camie’s body.

  5. In the frantic pace of trying to make a movie in only 48 hours, he misunderstood the director’s command, “Cut.”

  6. First off, I can’t tell if he killed a girl and thats her lesbian lover in the bed or if he killed a guy with really big man boobs and long hair and he just caught his gf having an affair? The scissors wouldnt be my first choice…but hey whatever works in his fit of jealousy I guess? lol

    • I like to imagine that you just walked in on this scene and he’s looking up at you and you say all that. Like one of those netflix commercials. :). I explain what’s reaaaally going on at the end of the words on the week post. But it’s more fun to make up a story.

  7. Pingback: Words on the Week… | Sociable Ink

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