Post by Luke on Oct 29, 2008 7:57:31 GMT -5
I've been wanting to do this for a while, and here's as good a place to get it going. This is a quick easy jump on task for those who want to throw out a short story with minimum effort.
The challenge is to take a supporting character from a well known movie that dies, and write a short story from their perspective. What the hell was their take on the whole thing? Did they see it coming? Did they even know what was going on?
There's one rule. Don't tell us the name of the movie.
Here's one to start us off:
"The tourists love it. There is money to be made here. Especially if the market is busy. It is a hard life - the heat, the desolation, poverty, illness. It all threatens to consume us. But there is opportunity too. Opportunity to put some smiles on faces. Opportunity to make a few coins. I try to make the people happy.
Today the market is very busy. It is lucky for these have been particularly desperate times. There is some sort of ruckus in the main square, a crowd is gathering. There is shouting. Bustling. My wife calls me to the window.
"Something is going on!" she says, "You must take advantage of the situation! Perform for them, my beloved! Make them happy!"
She does not need to tell me twice. Already I have leapt from my chair and am pulling on my hood. I am halfway out the door.
"Something theatrical!" my wife says. She waves a sash. A red one. This is indeed a special occasion! I kiss her cheeks as I tie it around my waist.
The children have gathered at the doorway.
"Come! Come!" I say. "Father will put on a great show today!"
Children skipping behind me I enter the main square. The crowd is shoulder to shoulder. It is hot. Musky. Now I see what the fuss is about...
It is a tourist. An American, probably. He looks lost, bothered. Dripping with sweat. This is no doubt his first time in our country. The Americans are generally quite wealthy and are generous with their money. Fortune has smiled upon me this day! I can tell my appearance has taken him by surprise. It must be the flourish of my sash. Bless my sweet wife. I prepare to give him the performance of a lifetime!
My sword looks heavy but it is actually quite light. It is wooden. I carved it myself. The silver paint was difficult to procure but it makes the sword flash in the hot Cairo sun. I begin to twirl it, theatrically as I have trained for countless hours to do. Spinning it effortlessly in my hands.
I can feel the eyes of my children. One day too they will train and perform with the sword. They will bring happiness to this market and put bread on their table. They will be buskers like their father, delighting an appreciative crowd.
My routine has barely started when the American is reaching for his pocket. Already he will part with his money! This is a good day! Thank you for this blessing! Yet... this is not a pouch of coins but... a firearm?I think of my wife, my children... Oh fuck!!"
The challenge is to take a supporting character from a well known movie that dies, and write a short story from their perspective. What the hell was their take on the whole thing? Did they see it coming? Did they even know what was going on?
There's one rule. Don't tell us the name of the movie.
Here's one to start us off:
"The tourists love it. There is money to be made here. Especially if the market is busy. It is a hard life - the heat, the desolation, poverty, illness. It all threatens to consume us. But there is opportunity too. Opportunity to put some smiles on faces. Opportunity to make a few coins. I try to make the people happy.
Today the market is very busy. It is lucky for these have been particularly desperate times. There is some sort of ruckus in the main square, a crowd is gathering. There is shouting. Bustling. My wife calls me to the window.
"Something is going on!" she says, "You must take advantage of the situation! Perform for them, my beloved! Make them happy!"
She does not need to tell me twice. Already I have leapt from my chair and am pulling on my hood. I am halfway out the door.
"Something theatrical!" my wife says. She waves a sash. A red one. This is indeed a special occasion! I kiss her cheeks as I tie it around my waist.
The children have gathered at the doorway.
"Come! Come!" I say. "Father will put on a great show today!"
Children skipping behind me I enter the main square. The crowd is shoulder to shoulder. It is hot. Musky. Now I see what the fuss is about...
It is a tourist. An American, probably. He looks lost, bothered. Dripping with sweat. This is no doubt his first time in our country. The Americans are generally quite wealthy and are generous with their money. Fortune has smiled upon me this day! I can tell my appearance has taken him by surprise. It must be the flourish of my sash. Bless my sweet wife. I prepare to give him the performance of a lifetime!
My sword looks heavy but it is actually quite light. It is wooden. I carved it myself. The silver paint was difficult to procure but it makes the sword flash in the hot Cairo sun. I begin to twirl it, theatrically as I have trained for countless hours to do. Spinning it effortlessly in my hands.
I can feel the eyes of my children. One day too they will train and perform with the sword. They will bring happiness to this market and put bread on their table. They will be buskers like their father, delighting an appreciative crowd.
My routine has barely started when the American is reaching for his pocket. Already he will part with his money! This is a good day! Thank you for this blessing! Yet... this is not a pouch of coins but... a firearm?I think of my wife, my children... Oh fuck!!"
