I’ve been tagged by Brave Sir Robin, so here goes.
I, Splotchy: This Story Is A Virus :
Here’s what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don’t know how realistic it is, but that’s what I’m aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.
MathMan has tagged me to add to the story, which reads….
I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)
“That’s strange,” I said out loud to no one in particular. My fingers slowly reached towards the jar again. My body experienced a wave of apprehension as weighted blanket covering me as I did so. The jar was completely frozen.
I picked it up and stared at it, my fingers stung with little knives of chill. “What the…” again I spoke aloud. Then I realized what had happened with a shock. Suddenly the jar flew from my hand. It shattered creating a collage-like mixture of frozen applesauce and glass shards on my kitchen floor, the lid lazily rolling to a stop across the room. (FranIam)
I stood for a moment considering what all this meant. Oh, I knew what it meant, I didn’t need to waste time thinking about it. He was back. And he was mad.
I ran down the hallway and flung open the door at the end. I was immediately hit with a blast of cold. I took a step back as I tried to catch my breath. I bent over, hands on my knees panting. He always had this remarkable effect on me. After so much time, it no longer scared me, but it was a shock nonetheless……
“You know,” I panted, “There’s no need to break things to get my attention.” (DCup)
I woke up in the same position as in my dream, on my knees. I was sweating even though room was freezing. (mathman6293)
I was used to the house being quite cold in the mornings, as the night log usually burns out around one AM when I am dreaming cozily under my covers, not normally waking to put a new one on until morning. I was surprised because on the rare occasions that it actually had reached sub-freezing temperatures in the house, I had awakened in the night to restart the fire. I would have been worried about the pipes before P-Day, but there hadn’t been running water in two years and that was one of the few advantages to being dependent on rainwater, no pipes. (Freida Bee)
The nightmares began during the following spring. The apple trees came to life in my dreams. At first the trees spoke and I thought they were amusing. That changed when the messages arrived. Lately, their anger was directed at me. (mathman6293)
The sound of the front porch floorboards creaking snapped me out of my reverie. I stood up, grabbed my shotgun and made sure a round was chambered, then quietly made my way into the front room and over to the window. As I peeked out past the closed curtains, my heart began to beat rapidly.
It can’t be, the incredulous thought came, I saw him die last year!
(Phydeaux)
There was no doubt it was him. I knew the minute he tried to meow and managed only a croak. I could feel him purring before he even reached my leg. As he started to rub against me I bent to pick him up but that’s as far as I got. I smelled her perfume. I didn’t see her and the scent was very faint, but a man doesn’t forget the smell of a woman like her. As my arms pulled Sylvester to my chest my eyes were closed. The smell of her was strong on him, and my mind carried me back to the last time I’d buried myself in that heady fragrance. “Sorry I took your cat”, she said.
(Brave Sir Robin)
For a minute, all I could do was stare at her gape-mouthed in the manner of a man seeing a ghost. Finally, I found my tongue.
“I’d invite you in for coffee, but everything is frozen”.
‘That’s all right” she said “I like it iced now”.
Over what can only be described as black coffee slushies, she told me the story of how she stole my cat and ran away to make her fortune as a curandera in the jungles of Bolivia. After nearly a year of sweltering heat and bugs, the only magic she had left was the cat’s ability to freeze things. She could no longer produce the raised eyebrow of doom or break ear drums with her sarcastic cackle. When I asked her why she returned, the story got even more convoluted.
” After being run out of Bolivia, I found work at a brothel in Buenos Aires. By the way, your cat learned a few new tricks there. I suggest never saying the words frozen chicken in Spanish to him, you may not like the results. At the brothel I met this tango dancing hamster named Ruby. She told me that the only way I could get my powers back was to…( Red Queen)
I tag Varkentine, cause I think he has the right kind of pervy mind to continue this. Brandann cause Varkentine “doesn’t do committee written stories”
