“Don’t think outside the box. Think like there is no box.”
Tonight’s post is brief, but I just wanted to share something the members of my high school creative writing club helped me come up with yesterday.
We decided to play a game that I’d highly recommend: we sat in a circle, and each of us had two minutes to start a story. Then we would pass the story down the circle, and we’d have two minutes to continue the piece that the person beside us started. The stories would work down the line, and once they got halfway around the circle, we all retrieved our own and read them aloud.
The end result is a fast-paced (and often humorous) mash-up of twists, insane dialogue and an ending that even the original author couldn’t see coming.
We produced some pretty solid masterpieces.
I’m sorry to say that I completely flipped around most of the stories that came my way. Some of my twists included everything exploding, the character suddenly developing superpowers, or the world randomly ending. Sorry about that, guys.
On the bright side, we had some killer tales when we were done. My personal favorites included the stories featuring Little Red Riding Hood who turned out to be part of a group of sorcerers, a tele-tubbie that blew up as a result of an invasion of Harry Styles clones, and a girl in a parking lot who turned into Batman (except she could shoot spider web and shouted “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”)
Anyway. Of course I couldn’t post all of those stories on my blog, but I decided to put up the story that I started writing. I’m bad at spontaneously coming up with a plot idea, but I tried to kick it off with enough loose ends that my friends in the circle would have something to build off. And oh, did we build. So, full credit to everyone in my creative writing club for expanding on my first few paragraphs. I definitely wouldn’t have come up with this on my own.
Readers: I know this is a short tale, with unpolished writing, but I’d say it’s pretty awesome for ten minutes’ work. Hope you enjoy!
The Battle of the Supercenter
Molly walked down the grocery store aisle, her eyes scanning over her grocery list with a sense of urgency. This store had many things, but would they have this? Something so important, yet so hard to find. She had been searching for so long…
“Excuse me,” she said to a gentleman in a worker’s vest that identified him as ‘Bucky,’ “I’m looking for something very unique.”
Bucky reached into his vest and withdrew a foot-long sheath knife.
“Ain’t nobody got time for that!” he screeched.
He unsheathed it and crouched, holding the knife at eye level. Molly yelped and ran, letting her list flutter to the ground. Shoppers at the store gave her strange looks, but said nothing.
Help! she mentally screamed, unable to find her voice. Could nobody else see this madman?
Then a figure stepped in front of her.
“Are you alright?”
Instead of answering, Molly shoved him to the ground and darted past him. She couldn’t stop or else she’d get caught!
Panting heavily, she darted for the exit. But then, tugging her down, came the grip of the man’s hands on her shoulders.
They both fell hard, thudding to the ground. But he was ready—climbing across her and holding up the small dagger. She screamed, a hoarse, thin screech as she burst into her bird form.
The energy emitted by her transformation threw the man onto a nearby conveyor belt that ushered him at a snail’s pace into the store’s superfurnace. Bucky, a man later proven to have been posing as an employee, was incinerated.
They referred to him on the news, saying that instead of being burned at the stake, he was burned between aisles 11 and 12. No records were ever discovered of his existence besides a birth certificate stating he’d been born in 1594. Molly’s bird form was hardly speculated upon.
After witnessing Bucky’s demise, she fluttered up to the rafters and escaped through a ventilator shaft.
Two weeks later, she entered a different store in a new city. She approached a worker who was restocking camping gear.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for something very unique.”
The man paused, and then slowly turned around, grinning maliciously.