But PLEASE let’s not devolve into scatological or licivious humor. Let’s try to write a good, well written story with a followable plot line. I’ll start:
It was raining, a steady, persistant rain, a good for the crops sort of rain, a rhythm on the roof sort of rain. But the store was a mile away, and Lena had neither car nor umbrella.
Lena was a country girl, and not used to walking to get somewhere; tractors, pick-ups, even horses get you somewhere, but only city people walk.
Steeling herself, she put on her coat and walked outside, flinching as she passed the edge of the porch, the heavy flow of fat drips coming off the edge of the overhang feeling like an assault.
She proceeded down the steps, along the walk, down the driveway and stood. Glancing at her watch, she calculated 20 minutes there, half an hour to gather and pay for the groceries, 20 minutes home. She’d definitely be home before Eric.
The very thought of her abusive boyfriend made her shudder involuntarily. Would he be in a good mood or bad when he came off duty?
(Let’s consolidate the story every few sentences to make it easier to follow.)
It was raining, a steady, persistant rain, a good for the crops sort of rain, a rhythm on the roof sort of rain. But the store was a mile away, and Lena had neither car nor umbrella. Lena was a country girl, and not used to walking to get somewhere; tractors, pick-ups, even horses get you somewhere, but only city people walk. Steeling herself, she put on her coat and walked outside, flinching as she passed the edge of the porch, the heavy flow of fat drips coming off the edge of the overhang feeling like an assault. She proceeded down the steps, along the walk, down the driveway and stood. Glancing at her watch, she calculated 20 minutes there, half an hour to gather and pay for the groceries, 20 minutes home. She’d definitely be home before Eric. The very thought of her abusive boyfriend made her shudder involuntarily. Would he be in a good mood or bad when he came off duty?
Lena almost hoped that he’d call saying he had to work a double shift so that she wouldn’t have to second-guess him. Plus then she could watch American Idol without his running commentary ruining it for her.
She was making her way down the street when a car approaching on the road slowed down, raindrops sliding across its windshield.
The car slowed to match Lena’s brisk pace. The driver, a man she did not recognize, lowered his window and asked, “Need a lift?” Lena paused to consider her options; knowing that Eric would most definitely disapprove of her being in a car alone with the handsome young man.
The very fact that he would disapprove, not the prospect of walking in the rain, is what made her do what she did next.
She brought up one wrist, and thumbed a button with her other hand. A force field hummed into faintly-glowing, slightly-crackling existence. She had been hoping to save the batteries for the walk home, but she felt the field was the only way to discourage the solicitous stranger. Eric could really be a pain when he got going.
(D & R)
But the stranger did not gasp with surprise as she had expected. Instead he kept his strong gaze straight at her, as if the sudden activation of an invisibility field was not only an everyday occurrence for him but also something he was not impeded by in any way.
Priceguy - I’m sorry. brujaja’s post is exactly what I asked NOT be done. And the “(D & R)” at the end - he knew he was threadshitting. Please rewrite your contribution following this:
Thank you.
Sorry, didn’t see his contribution as “scatological and lascivious humour”, and took the “d&r” as a joke.
yes - it wasn’t either of those - but perhaps I should have been clearer in the OP - even tho this is in the Game Room, I was hoping it wouldn’t get silly. Genre jumps open the flood gates. And if yo uknow he meant it as a joke, why did you continue along that line? why didn’t you go back to the previous one?
I didn’t see the genre as established after ten sentences or so.
I thought he meant the “d&r” as a joke, not the rest.
Again, I’m sorry.
Lena turned smartly about and headed back to the apartment, hoping she could do something with the left-over liver that Eric would find palatable. When she heard the car door open, she bolted. But country girls do not know how slick and tricky cobblestones can be.
[sorry, BEG, I am not letting her willingly get into a strange car with a strange man in a strange city]
It was raining, a steady, persistant rain, a good for the crops sort of rain, a rhythm on the roof sort of rain. But the store was a mile away, and Lena had neither car nor umbrella. Lena was a country girl, and not used to walking to get somewhere; tractors, pick-ups, even horses get you somewhere, but only city people walk. Steeling herself, she put on her coat and walked outside, flinching as she passed the edge of the porch, the heavy flow of fat drips coming off the edge of the overhang feeling like an assault. She proceeded down the steps, along the walk, down the driveway and stood. Glancing at her watch, she calculated 20 minutes there, half an hour to gather and pay for the groceries, 20 minutes home. She’d definitely be home before Eric. The very thought of her abusive boyfriend made her shudder involuntarily. Would he be in a good mood or bad when he came off duty? Lena almost hoped that he’d call saying he had to work a double shift so that she wouldn’t have to second-guess him. Plus then she could watch American Idol without his running commentary ruining it for her.
She was making her way down the street when a car approaching on the road slowed down, raindrops sliding across its windshield. The car slowed to match Lena’s brisk pace. The driver, a man she did not recognize, lowered his window and asked, “Need a lift?” Lena paused to consider her options, knowing that Eric would most definitely disapprove of her being in a car alone with the handsome young man. The very fact that he would disapprove, not the prospect of walking in the rain, is what made her do what she did next. Lena turned smartly about and headed back to the apartment, hoping she could do something with the left-over liver that Eric would find palatable. When she heard the car door open, she bolted. But country girls do not know how slick and tricky cobblestones can be.
“Lena,” the man’s voice called out as she lost her footing and landed on her rear, “are you okay?”
The man reached down a hand to help her up. It was then Lena got a clear look at his face, although she still did not recognize him.
“It’s Jerry,” he said as he helped her up, “from Franklin Middle. I didn’t know you lived here, now, too.”
Lena’s expression grew dim as the memories came back to her. “Jerry,” she said, “what are you doing here? You know Eric hasn’t done anything like that in years–” He cut her off.
“I’m so glad I found you,” he said. “Lena… I need your help.”
The worry that Lena was so often afflicted with these days began to creep in and take hold of her senses. She failed to notice that Jerry was wearing that goofy grin that often made him the butt of jokes at Franklin. Lena, though soft-spoken in her childhood, was usually the one to admonish her classmates for their incessant teasing of Jerry. Her compassion was the reason Jerry remembered her and needed her help.
That’s precisely why I left it open-ended. I was curious to see where it would go. Jumping into the car with abandon would have been so cliche.