In honor of the Directorate’s new Beginning, your task today is: write three new beginnings. Write the first Sentence or two of three fine Tales. Work quickly and do not Overthink; this is mere Practice.
You may post your Work as a Comment below, or you may work in Privacy. You may Applaud the Beginnings of others, but do not Criticize; these are merely Practice, and should not be Judged.
Write! Or else.
Once, when I was a bell, I rang in a child’s hand. All who heard me wept salt-less tears that soaked the harvest sweet, and we feasted like kings every fall.
~
The jackal’s teeth were soft, if she was careful; teasing around their edges, she could intuit smooth from sharp with her fingertips as she coated them with green poison. To the jackal, it tasted of apples; to whomever she bit, it would taste of almonds and burnt amber.
~
Three new things were required of every apprentice seeking to enter the Temple of Knotted Belts: three new things that had never been known before. Some brought words heard in dreams; some brought fantastically wrought maps of places imagined; some brought wine made from stones.
Kendra brought a child.
Applause! Well done, Agent Labrys.
Aloysius was not the kind of gentleman you would call “un-noteworthy”, or indeed “un-distinguished”. Because Aloysius was, as he had known since leaving the comfort of his mother’s womb, a True Gentleman. He never lost his temper and always remained inscrutable. But Aloysius was also marked; a fault concealed so well, that he could have lived his whole life without it ever coming to the surface, had it not been for Alice…
Another satisfying strip came off in her teeth. The skin had not yet completely broken and although the skin around her nail was starting to look red-raw, it was still presentable. Finding that the nail of her right forefinger was slightly longer than the rest, she started to get work on it, carefully making sure she didn’t start too deep. She knew that if she stopped she would start to shake uncontrollably. This was Camilla’s first time to be interviewed by the law.
In the turgid beginnings of time, there was a small lump of dirt that, though it had been through many transformations – from space, to gas and dust in far off parts of the galaxy – had finally amassed itself into this particular formation at this particular time, in this particular place. This event could not and would not ever happen again in the past, the future, or any possible parallel universe, because this was it, a new aeon was about to shudder into existence…
1.) There was always a task, and this one was harder than the last. Mala didn’t mind that so much; it was just that the doll in her pocket wouldn’t shut up, and the wolf she’d pretended to befriend, the one with the saucer eyes and lipstick mouth, had taken a liking to her and had followed her even here, and whenever she sat still and tried to concentrate on her task, he would lay his steam-gray head in her lap, which just seemed… lascivious. As for the task, it included milking a golden orb spider of her silk, and spinning that silk into a fan for the witchmam, who had it in her mind to attend the ball. She’d probably end up eating the prince, but Mala didn’t mind that either. No one liked the prince. No single poor female under the age of 30, that is, who lived in the wood where he liked to hunt.
2.) They told her that her mother lived in a tower in the desert, making men from sand and lightning, from spit and the blood between her thighs. They say her father ruled most of the known world, and that if he knew she was alive, he would stick arrows in her eyes and hang her from the top of a trebuchet and use her as his mascot in whatever battle he was fighting. Mik grew up without either of them, and did a fairly good job at it, but she was getting restless. It was time to go south.
3.) Jack Yap rode his white bear to a city by the sea. It was a devout land, where there were more saints than people, and more goats than saints. The king kept a saint on hand to advise him, and the only wicked woman in the entire country was the king’s daughter. So of course, Jack Yap was set on meeting her. Like calls to like.
Ire-Claw, I bow my bi-pennal head to you. Your second utterings in particular are beloved of me.
*bows back*
Thanks for alerting me to this WAY COOL SITE, ax-face.
I like all of YOURS, but your third is ringin’ my bells something fierce.
Great idea, and here’s mine:
1) Black Cherry, sour Cherry, sharp and sweet; with her smile so delicious, and her tongue so dark and ripe. She is good for kissing, oh she is well-kissed, her lips are glossy with kisses. She takes my hand and writes her phone number across my palm, slowly, as if pen and skin are lovers. The next time I see her she will tattoo my spine with her black petals. I hope it hurts.
2) My robot lover has hands that can play symphonies, legs that can leap tall buildings, eyes that can see through flesh. It is charming, well-read, and up to date with the latest news and gossip. My robot lover eats electric noodles and when we get close, my hair stands up around my head in a staticky halo.
3) In a blue alley between two derelict houses, set back from a silent dual carriageway, a horse and rider wait. Moonlight paints them indigo and silver. Outlaws. White steam rises from the horse’s nostrils, but otherwise she makes no movement. The rider, too, is utterly still. She is listening. Something is coming.
O Applause!
Agent mjc: Dirt! It cannot be Simple to write about Dirt, but you are off to a Marvelous start.
Agent Ire-claw: Please finish the Tale begun in your Second Beginning.
Agent Monster Soup Head: Not only is your Name magnificent, but your Beginnings! Delicious, symphonies, moonlight.
May I draw your Attention, fine Agents, to the rest of this Week’s Exercises?
1.) To Mac, the backwoods were an unexplored kingdom. How many hours did he spend chasing a flutter of wings, scavenging strange insects, rooting through the rich black soil? It would have been like any other wasted summer, dirty knees, scraped hands and bruises, but Mac discovered the tree with the long slender thorns clustered on its bark, and the magic of impaling creatures upon it.
2.) When the factory shut down, all the robots were disassembled and sold as scrap metal. As an nod toward a possible future where human and android coexist peacefully, one robot was kept alive, and given a house to live in on Rosewood St.
3.) It hadn’t rained in thirty-seven days. The farmers watched their crops sag under the heat, turn brittle with thirst, and die. Allie Dawson knew they would come for her, when every other attempt to make it rain had failed. The farmers couldn’t hide their contempt for her, their frowning lips, hard gazes, shifting from one foot to the other. Allie took it as a measure of their desperation that they’d even ask for her help at all. It wasn’t easy for them, she knew, but it was much harder for her.
not gonna think at all
1) Just take the 9:05 bus to the valley and walk the rest of the way in to property. I am smiled upon as company but no one else can know. There are never many people taking this bus so I know the driver must question my being here. Afterall, I don’t look like someone who should be taking a bus much less getting off in that neighborhood.
2) Wimpering continues from the otherside of the door. I refuse to unlock it. She would see. She would see my tools. It’s easier to let her cry. I will be done soon, then I can pick her up and hold her to my chest. Damage done.
3) Fancy the twinkling lights flashing colors on my face. They pour across me from the sign across the street creating ambiance as I stand in this doorway. Waiting. Waiting for Mr. Right…. or Mr. Right Now.