Shirking proper work in order to fritter away time on a creative writing challenge can make you feel rather guilty, but there’s a great consolation when you realise that you are not the only one who’s so easily led astray. So far, at least 10 people have risen to the challenge in the Freelance Writers forum on LinkedIn to write a story in 26 sentences, each beginning with a sequential letter of the alphabet. The first sentence has to begin with A, the second with B and so on. You can cheat with X and use a word beginning with ‘ex’.
I blogged about my first effort the other day here and discovered I had broken the seal on an unexpectedly rich seam of creativity that apparently dwells within my mind. No sooner had I written my first A-Z (in horror genre) than an erotic story was bubbling up trying to come out. Then I thought it would be fun to do a Jane Austen-style A-Z.
Perhaps I shall have to add ‘flash fiction’ to the list of F Words’ services; not that anyone is likely to pay me for doing it.
These latest two stories are reproduced below, followed by a contribution from my friend Kim, who devised a truly horrible scenario involving the impregnation of a woman with animal semen. She’s studying for an English degree – so she has an excuse for fooling about writing fiction during the working day.
Afterwards, she lay wrapped in his strong arms, wondering “was that it?”
“By the way,” he asked, “have you taken your pill today?”
Crass. Did he have to be so unromantic? Every time was the same – unsatisfactory one way or the other.
“F*** me again,” she pleaded.
“Give me a break!” he snapped. “How can I get it up again this soon? I’m not a machine!”
“Just a quickie,” she begged. “Know me again – in the biblical sense. Love me long and hard. My sexy man. No-one compares to you.”
“Oh darling,” he moaned, sensing a stirring in his loins. “Put your hand on it. Quickly. Roughly. Soon I’ll be ready.”
“Take me now!” she urged.
“Underneath or on top?” he queried.
“Very pleased to hear you ask that,” she replied.
“Wonderful!” she whispered as he concluded his dirty business. “Ex-boyfriends can’t compete. You’re the best.”
“Zzzzzzz,” he snored, rolling off and falling into a deep slumber.
Faux Jane Austen
As everyone knows, a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in need of a wife.
But finding such a help-meet is never easy. Can a gentlemen so favoured overlook the unfortunate position in which he would find himself should his beloved’s family bring not only a lack of fortune but also a lack of good taste? Disadvantageous such a match would be, without doubt, yet Mr Darcy found himself peculiarly unable to forget the young lady whom Fate had thrown into his path at the ball.
Elizabeth Bennet, was, verily, an ornament of her sex. Fair of face. Gracious in manner. High-minded in principles. Intelligent.
Judicious, too, in her dealings with the embarrassments caused by the only-too-public failings of her family. Kitty. Lydia. Mary. Not Jane though – her beloved older sister. Only Jane possessed the sense and grace to mitigate the social shortcomings of the rest of the Bennet family.
Pemberley, that garden of Eden, was so beloved by Mr Darcy that he could scarce acknowledge that either of the elder sisters, let alone the younger, could ever qualify as the estate’s mistress.
Quietly and unbidden grew the young couple’s feelings for each other. Rather by accident than design they came to understand each other’s true virtues. She had thought him arrogant, unforgiving and hidebound by class distinctions. “Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me,” had been his initial verdict on Miss Elizabeth.
Until there arose an occasion so constituted to test their respective prejudice and pride.
Valiantly, Darcy saved the Bennets from an entanglement which threatened their very fortune and social standing, and Elizabeth knew it was all done for her.
What was a girl to do? Excessive were her feelings of confusion as her emotions so arranged themselves to allow for admiring Mr Darcy for his good sense and his sensibility, and for feeling a deep debt for his services to her family.
You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” said Fitzwilliam.
Zealous indeed was his plighting of his troth and they both lived happily every after.
Another kick, this time even more painful, she desperately tried not to pass out again.
Breathe steadily, that’s what they told her at the anti-natal classes but it didn’t seem to be working very well. Calm, must remain calm was her mantra.
Damian had seemed the answer to her dreams; he was handsome, charismatic, intelligent and most impressively, fantastic with animals. Even the big cats they both worked with at the local zoo farm fell under his spell. Following their first encounter, she couldn’t get the newly qualified vet out of her head and constantly imagined what her life would be like with him at her side: she was an orphan and craved a family life, she wanted the whole package: husband, children, house, maybe even some pets. Gradually, they got closer and as they cared for the rhinos, giraffes, lions and tigers during those long, balmy summer evenings he finally asked her out. Hardly a day went by when they didn’t see each other either at work or after work, when they usually hung out with the brainy friends that he’d met during his time in Berlin, as he studied for his specialist post-graduate science degree. ‘I don’t know how you put up with him’ they use to laughingly say, ‘he’s obsessed with those animals; it must be difficult for you to compete with them’.
Just then, another kick, she’d never felt pain like it. ‘*king hell’ she screamed, her insides felt like there was a whole family of children in there; she felt the dull knocking of elbows, knees and feet and thought her stomach was going to split open with the force of their blows. ‘Let me check your blood pressure’ the red-faced midwife said as she bustled into the room with the efficiency of a seasoned professional. ‘Mmm’ she murmured ‘that’s a bit too high, we may have to call the doctor’.
Never before had she been so in love, she was living out her dream during those wonderful summer months. Of course it sounded a strange request at the time but she loved him so much, she would have done anything for him. Perhaps she had been too naive to think that he was really interested in a plain-faced, orphan girl with few friends but he seemed so genuine and when he mentioned moving in together, she was overcome with tears of joy. Quite astonished was she by the strange request that she agreed all too readily. ‘Right then’ Damian said in his beautiful deep voice, ‘first you must close your eyes, open your legs and relax, this may feel a bit odd but you need to trust me.’ Specially selected sperm made its way deep into her uterus and within weeks she was pregnant.
‘Trust me’ he’d said, and then disappeared for months: only now did he show up again at the hospital in time to see the results of his experiment. Underneath the green covers in the operating theatre the medical professionals were performing an emergency caesarean section, as the poor girl had been so distressed, so exhausted, so much in pain by the whole thing that they had to sedate her.
‘What the hell is it ?’ cried the red-faced midwife; a lifetime of midwifery could never prepare her for the shock and she fell to the hard, cold, operating theatre floor with a thud. X-rays, scans and more tests didn’t help as the doctors and the other nurses were dumbfounded by the striped, four-legged, hoofed new arrival.
“Yak?, no wait a minute, it cant be. Zebra? yes I think it is.”
Picture credit: markuso at www.freedigitalphotos.net