A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || July 29, 2012 || 10:30 pm

I want to try something. It’s only going to work if you take off your Mittens of Writerly Silence and hit the keyboard running. Like, several of you. Let’s arbitrarily pick a sport with which to illustrate what I’m doing here. Fuck that, that’s a dumb idea; I’ll just explain.

I’m going to set you up with a pretty cool sentence. This sentence is a beginning, and it is a prompt. But –unlike other writing prompts people tend to put on the internet– it’s only for one person. That person is the one who gets there first to write the next line in the narrative. That next line? It’s also a prompt for one person only. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Comments will have more meat than the post….not like that hasn’t ever happened before around here, and let’s be truthful: I miss that, I miss that thing where the comments take on a form and flavor and generate this community content that I’ve not had an active hand in molding.

So maybe eighty of you will comment, and maybe none of you will. We’ll see when I hit publish, I reckon.

Of note is the fact that if you’re a new commenter here or are commenting from a new location then your first comment will be held in queue. I’ll try to clear comments as quickly as possible on my end, and try to keep the train on the rails. Feel free to have more than one go at it, too; the only thing I ask is that you give at least three other people a chance to jump into the volley between each of your entries.

If you are unsteady and nerved up at first then just pick a pen name, no sweat. I won’t rat you out and the only thing that I ask is that you don’t try to derail the story or the other contributors; be at least somewhat mindful of story flow.

Here we go.

(hopefully we’ll all get to a place where I can just title the thing next line please, two or eleventy or whatever and post a sentence for you to hop on)


::: :: ::: :: ::: :: :::

“I gave you my fingerprints,” she had written, “because I thought they might come in handy. You know, someday.”

13 worked it out »

  1. Matt Lacey 7.29.2012

    He couldn’t help but think that they’d have been useful that time in Bulgaria, but dwelling on the past was going to be of no use for this job.

  2. Jess 7.29.2012

    He closed the ornate box with her gloves still inside and slid it inside his jacket, refusing to break her gaze for a second.

  3. Erica M 7.30.2012

    Even though that old photograph muted the blue of her eyes, he couldn’t put it down as he packed, absent-minded, for Las Vegas.

  4. Andrew Ironwood 7.30.2012

    Outside, the night was a damp washrag being wrung over the kitchen drain of his soul.

  5. Kristin 7.30.2012

    He ran an aching hand through his hair, stopping only briefly on the freshly sutured gash that still pulsed from that morning.

  6. Simon 7.30.2012

    The wound had him second guessing his choice of memento, why in the world had he taken her boxing gloves in the first place?

  7. Dawn was breaking, and he knew the painful what-ifs weren’t going to change matters.

  8. @paul_shinn 7.30.2012

    He stood up and paused before the bathroom mirror to check one last time for any other signs of the kerfuffle on his face and arms; it was important to be sure nothing appeared out of the ordinary, as he would be aboard a tourist-bound flight and he wanted to blend into the crowd to get the jump trailing the target, who would be arriving only minutes apart at the hub.

  9. Christie O. Tate 7.30.2012

    He acted as calmly as possible, but even after all these years, and the . . adventure, his nerves still jangled compulsively everytime he boarded a flight.

  10. He had to admit he did look a bit worse for the wear and it might have mattered if he was going to Switzerland. But Vegas? Nah, he would blend in, and then some, just as he was.

  11. Jett Superior 7.30.2012


    The narrative needs to be moved along. A handful of people have given an ‘out’ to get this guy on his way, but we’re dwelling on fleshing him out. This is flash fiction, not a novella.

    You can craft a story with whispers and sparsity.

    And! Details about this d00d can be picked up along the way.

    As you were, writers!

  12. Erica M 7.30.2012

    Remembering very little of the flight, he landed without knowing his luggage and the girl’s old boxing gloves were on an errant trip to Wichita, and his Vegas destination unknown save for what was penciled on a scrap of paper: Babe.

  13. Those six little words couldn’t come soon enough: “Now boarding Flight 709 to Las Vegas.”


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