Let’s write a chain story – your turn
Haven’t done this in ages, but I’m hoping this will be a good start to the week. The rules are simple: the story starts with my opening below.
You fill in the rest. Maximum TWO sentences at a time. You can have as many turns as you like, but they can’t be consecutive – in other words you have to wait for someone else to contribute before you add to the story again.
You can twist and turn the story anyway you like, but do read what’s gone before…
I thought it would end when he walked out the door.
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BACK TO CREATIVE WRITING SCHOOL — 120+ reviews on Amazon and over 75% gave it five stars
A Good Confession
"Unputdownable" Miriam Stoppard
BRIDGET WHELAN writer 
I turned to look at Abigail. ‘Now we must hurry, we have things to do.’
Yet again I made the mistake of forgetting what I already knew; the relief made plans before either of us were ready for them.
I checked my phone and hoped the battery would last, we will need it if it all goes pear-shaped. “Abigail, my phone is on its last breath, have you got yours with you?”
” No. I wasn’t going to risk it with him about. He’d have had no inhibitions about reading the texts for more ammunition.”
Manny adjusted his real ammunition belt concealed beneath his heavy wind-breaker jacket. It was fully stuffed with gold-tipped bullets for his Ultramax 9mm Luger, the handy little equalizer outwitted Abigail had no idea he was carrying.
My heart sank when I heard the door close. I peered down between a gap in the banisters and wondered what on earth those two idiots doing —didn’t they realise that he might never be coming back?
My heart sank when I heard the door close. I peered down between a gap in the banisters and wondered what on earth those two idiots were doing — didn’t they realise that he might never be coming back?
The two idiots in question, Manny and Abigail, were blissfully unaware that they had been under the watchful gaze of a 3rd person perched on the polished mahogany banisters above them amidst the slightly off oppulance of Hotel De La Clown. Unbeknownst to them all, the convoluted plot of the 1949 British film noir masterpiece THE THIRD MAN was about to show it’s hand as being pivotal to everyone.
Silence. It was as if the great old cinema itself, was holding its breath.
The slow-motion silence pressed down on Manny and Abigail like pressure on the ocean floor. With a cramp slowly taking hold of the lower portion of his left leg, the perfectly hidden, ever watchful but by now quite drowsy Third Man thought to himself, not the first time, “So far, tonight’s been all about teasing and no pleasing”.
Silence. It was as if the great old cinema itself, was holding its breath
Silence. It was as if the great old cinema itself, was holding its breath