Sometimes, the story does not spring wholly formed as I write. Today was one of those days. It started off slow.
Writing prompt: Tim has broken his New Year’s Resolution: Don’t kill anybody. Write that scene. From 365 Writing Prompts.
Tim waited by the alleyway. He wasn’t smoking, having joined the millions of other people in the world giving that vice up. He wore a nicotine patch instead.
Came back to it after mindless work, and nothing came. So I started on another story idea:
Knight and Mal’s breakfast was interrupted by the next President of the United States.
They were in Carlisle, Iowa. The snow was light, and it was going to be cold again, so the men loaded up on carbs with pancakes.
The candidate who came in was followed by a horde of handlers. The place was already full of guys getting ready to go to work, so with this new prospect and his posse, it was difficult to move.
Came back to it again. Nothing. I started looking for plot generators. I went through a few really silly and stupid plot generators, and came upon this logline:
- A werewolf and a drummer are found bound and gagged.
I’ve been trying to work on a freebie short story for the Homecoming book, and this logline gave me the idea. So I started to write:
They heard the dog howling as they approached the village. It was full daylight, a normal day. The village looked deserted. The hackles on Brent’s neck rose.
“I think there’s something wrong here,” said Mark.
“No shit,” said Jason, clicking the safety off his gun.
Custer made a motion and all of them held their guns up at the ready. Brent gripped his staff a little more tightly.
They got to the entrance of the village. The dog keened like a mourner, off to the northern side of the village, their left. Custer moved slowly to the edge of the wall. No one seemed to be moving. “Is anyone in this place?”
Jason stepped forward and yelled something in Pashtun. To their left came the barking again.
“Go in there, Wizard,” said Custer.
“”You sure nobody’s here?”
“No.”
Brent grimaced. “Why do I have to go first?”
“Because you’re new. Now get going. We’ll be right behind you.”
Damn, Brent thought, and walked out into the middle of the entrance. He held his staff up, walking through the streets. He looked back and saw that the men were following, about one body length behind each other in a line. The dog kept barking, and Brent kept going in that direction. He heard the crack of a gun and then a yelp. The barking stopped.
…there’s more, but I don’t want to ruin it for you!
