I’ve found this fun site through a fellow writer where they post a first line story prompt and you must finish it in under 500 words. Now this is a great word count for easier done, for me, than the 55 word count challenge I still do on occasion. Though the following stories did not win their weekly challenge, I wanted to share them with my followers.
1. Start with the given first sentence.
2. Up to 500 words
3. Keep it clean (nothing rated R or above)
4. Optional Special Challenge
5. Stories submitted must be your own work, using characters and worlds that you have created. Sorry, no fanfiction.
6. Include: Twitter/email, word count, Special Challenge accepted
7. The challenge is open for 24 hours on Tuesday EST
Oh, and feel free to change pronouns, punctuation, tense, and anything in brackets to fit the story/pov/tone. I’m not going to be TOO picky… Our judge however…
Each week the winner of the previous week sets the prompt.
If you’d like to participate in the fun you can find the prompts Here.
This weeks prompts:
The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and [decay] assail [me] as [I] approach the table.
Your SPECIAL CHALLENGE from the judge is:
Include a deception that backfires.
The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and decay assail me as I approach the table. Prone beneath the frivolity of celebration, my ever-faithful and somewhat ill-mannered disingenuous spouse of umpteen years, reeks of last years butchered pig. His left foot hangs by a thin sinew and his size 13 corefram shoe has fallen to the ground. A trickle of blood makes a slow arduous path downward from the near severed extremity
“Really Fred.” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “There are better ways to attend your son’s wedding.”
I should probably explain. Fred, my late great husband has been dead for twenty years. A freak accident I’d rather not go into, least to say I spent two decades sequestered in a padded room for my part. Only I can see his decaying flesh and smell his putrid stench. Sometimes I even hear his howl of agony. Like a kitten’s purr.
My son sends me a half-smile. I lower my voice as I kick Fred’s foot knocking the table leg in the process. It teeters.
“Mom,” Thomas comes close and takes my elbow to guide me away.
“He’s here. I told you he would be. You wouldn’t listen,” I stage whisper hoping the awkward gawkers will take the hint and bugger off. One woman with a peacock perched on her otherwise frumpy hat, takes a sip of amber liquid nudging a fat stout man beside her.
We go into the other room and I sit at the piano nestled in the corner. Fred appears at Thomas’ shoulder and I stand up abruptly. In the years since Fred left for greener pastures, I’ve held my tongue as to what happened. Out of nowhere I blurt, “I want to tell you what happened.”
“Now? Here?” Thomas’ face goes ashen. He looks to the other guest milling just out of earshot. “I don’t think this is the right venue, Mom.”
“It was a night much like tonight. Your father was about to marry the bimbo he’d left me for when I found my daddy’s chainsaw leaning against the front stoop.” I wipe my brow as perspiration start and I looked to Fred’s loving smile. He looks like he had so many years ago. “I wasn’t about to let him make a mockery of our anniversary like that. You know I loved that man for over fifty years and he thought he’d leave me.”
Fred takes my hand and this time he isn’t half-chewed by the saw blade. “Martha, I wasn’t about to marry anyone but you. It was our anniversary and I’d plan for us to renew our vows.”
“But that woman?”
“Was to perform the ceremony.”
“I saw you having trysts for three weeks in the bakery outside of town.”
“To plan it,” Fred says. He takes my hand in both of his and lightly kisses my palm.
I look into this sullen eyes as my heart stops dead in my chest.