Author: Jill Broscious

5.17.21

I have to practice all the different genres of storytelling because I don’t know which one will be part of the contest’s Round 2! Below is a “crime caper” – meant to be a silly escapade with flawed characters.

Genre: Crime Caper
Action: Driving
Word: Tool
Word Count: 100

Robin’s Hoods

The idea hatched on poker night. Lamenting the world’s economic injustice and fantasizing ways to set things right, Jerry rigged the plot.

Tim’s tools would bust the locks.
Jerry would mander the cash.
Robin would drive Batman’s getaway car.

Waiting at the wheel, Robin pondered the plan’s absurdity. How could they deliver money to the needy if they get caught? Who, exactly, ARE the needy, anyway?

Go!

Doors slamming, Robin pressed pedal to the metal. They sped down the deserted highway, eventually stopping at a vacant lot to count their blessings.

And book their flights to the Seychelles.

Ahhh…sweet justice.

5.16.21

Genre: Comedy
Action: Taking a test
Word: Busy
Word Count: 99

Karma

God: So, you wanna go to school? Face difficult tests and final examinations? Many levels must be attained to achieve your diploma.

Me: Oh, yes!

God: Don’t forget you ASKED. Busy living, it will be challenging to remember.

Me: I won’t.

Whoosh…

Me: Waahh…I’m in pain. Lost. Confused. Struggling. Where am I? What is happening? Help!

God:

Me: Why am I here? Where are YOU? Why won’t you help? Get me OUTTA here!

Whoosh…

God: Welcome back. You decided not to complete your education?

Me: I forgot to remember.

God: So, you wanna go to school?

Me: Oh, yes!

5.15.2021

This past month I have been practicing writing a story a day that can be told within 100 words and incorporates a random action and word, to prepare for a writing contest that began today. The following story is based on the contest’s assignment:

Genre: Action/Adventure
Action: Hanging Laundry
Word: Start (can be included in a larger word)
Word Count: 100

7,000 writers are participating in this contest. I am in a group of 63 people from which 15 writers will be chosen for the second round. I will know in July if I make it or not.

This is the story that emerged from the given parameters:

Escape

Springs or sliders? Springs had better grip but inflicted pinch marks. Sliders risked slippage but left no trace. This conundrum, the thrill in my day.

Halfway down the line, mind lost in mindless reverie, I startled as a Porsche pulled up the driveway.

Lilly!

“Let’s go, girl.”

Speeding down the freeway we giggled, reminiscing. That midnight train to Naples with sailors met in Rome. Skiing the Austrian Alps. Dinner at the Paris Ritz.

I was home rescuing pinned clothes before he pulled in the driveway asking: “What’s for dinner?”

Secretly thrilled I had chosen the sliders.

They left no trace.

5.14.21

Action: Itching
Word: Sign
Word Count: 93

Body Talk

My body was on fire! And not in a good way. Red flaming boils were busting out all over my lower torso and legs.

What the hell?

Fierce competitors, itching and burning jousted for my attention.

They won.

Relentless pain endured for two weeks. Amid this torment, an inner torture flared up to amplify my discomfort. A particular relationship needed to end.

Surely, the broiling blisters were a sign, warning me this person was no longer good for my health. My body was screaming: Danger. Danger.

I cut the cord.

Voila. The welts vanished.

5.13.21

Action: Cooking a meal
Word: lighthouse
Word Count: 97

Flame Keeper

The lighthouse keeper loved solitude and simplicity. His modest needs were met: a hot plate for cooking beans and rice, a cot for intermittent sleep, a woodstove for warmth.

His sacred responsibility – to man the lights 24/7, ensuring seafarers safe passage home.

Little else to occupy, his daily entertainment was Nature’s free concerts.

Waves slapping against the rocks set the tempo. Seagulls cooed the melody and squawked its counterpoint. On stormy days, their harmonies’ accompaniment: rolling drums and clashing cymbals.

Holy music to his ears.

But what he loved most was the light, the light, the light.

5.12.21

Action: Making money
Word: Dream
Word Count: 99

Utopia

Imagine

Money grows on trees. Your backyard is full of oaks and maples, willow and ash. Their unlimited foliage, your endless supply.

Imagine

A life of absolute freedom. No need to sell your soul to meet your soul’s needs. Free to do. Free to be. Free to come and go as you please.

How would you spend your time
Who would be your chosen companions
What would you have and experience
Where would you travel
When would you fulfill your long-deferred dream

Why must we wait for real life to begin?

Look closely. The trees are all around us.

5.11.21

Action: Tapping your feet
Word: Joy
Word Count: 99

Piano Man

Tapping feet rose to stomp. Louder and louder. The vocal din escalated, roused to a lion’s roar. Clapping hands fell into a collective rhythm of impatient anticipation. Twinkling stars burned ever brighter in the dimming light.

We waited.

Finally, Billy Joel appeared onstage. His presence triggered idolatrous worship and contagious delirium (or was that the pot smoke meandering beneath our nostrils?).

Jumping right into it, Billy performed his magic for hours. The crowd swayed in delight. Ineffable joy flooded my being, watching those nimble fingers fly.

If only I could play like him.

The Piano Man was my hero.

5.10.21

Action: Watching TV
Word: Child
Word Count: 95

Tele-Vision

Mesmerized by a rectangle
Its flashes of colorful eye candy
Its barrage of cacophonous ear buzz

Watch me! Watch me!

Too tired to resist
Just flick the switch and switch the flick
To something boring, or titillating, or stupid, or scary

A child’s nightmare

Entertain me! Entertain me!

No will to resist
Grab a burger, pop a beer
Take in the daily meat and drink

Why do we open this Box of Blather
The substitute teacher that teaches us nothing
When we can go outside, look around, and breathe?

There is magic in the air.

5.9.21

Action: Arranging flowers
Word: Pinwheel
Word Count: 98

Mother’s Day

Swooning with sensual delight, I arrange the honey-scented blooms in a crystal vase. The lavender, white, dusky pink lilacs are her favorite flowers.

While hands primp and fluff, thoughts revolve counterclockwise.

A family outing to an amusement park. She bought each of us a pinwheel as a souvenir. Fascinated by the spinner, I recall blowing on the colorful spokes, entertained by the clicky-clack sound of their gathering momentum.

The same sound those playing cards made when we embedded them in our bicycle tires and noisily raced each other down the neighborhood street.

Life’s wheels just keep on turning.

Action: Listening to wind chimes
Word: Drop
Word Count: 99

Wind Chimes

Reclining on the porch love seat, I slip into dreamlike reverie as a breeze wafts softly across my face, teasing the wind chimes to sing their song.

Those tickling bells, their random tones, more heavenly to my ears than a Bach fugue.

The king of structure, Bach created musical patterns that conform to precise mathematical principles. Complex and exquisite, his melodies flow in perfect harmony.

In a world of chaos, confusion and uncertainty, his compositions promise order, clarity, and comforting resolution.

Why, then, do the wind chimes’ aimless, unpredictable tunes move me so reverently to drop to my knees?