So Beatrice gave me “the mystery of the Belgian mask shop” and Cinnamon gave me “A small but determined young child finds an old key in their backyard and sets out on a mission to find the door it opens”
This is Part 1- part 2 is next.
How is it inside Newcastle? My name is Anita, I live in Belgium and I currently have your mysterious key. It arrived in my mailbox this morning. I cannot believe there are so many stamps on the envelope, this small key is really going everywhere! I was touched by your letter and intrigued because I am owning an old mask shop and there is a door I’ve never been able to liberate. I tried your key and it is the ideal solution. Unfortunately, it’s just a closet and it is empty, but for a letter. Please find enclosed. I do not think you will be disappointed. I’m sorry for my English, I used Google translate.
PS. I actually did put it through google translate a few times.
Rosie was just 16 when she crossed the wall to QLD. She’d heard there was work there. She remembered being terrified. Rumour had it that if you didn’t answer the phone with ‘I wake up with Today’ you could be evicted from your home and that if you failed to salute the Today T at work you’d be fired.
When she finally got to the capital, Karlsville, she found that if you could deal with Karl’s face staring at you from coins, posters and art galleries it really was Australia’s best kept secret. Most of the rumours had been put out by Queenslanders trying to keep people away from the party state. In a bizarre twist Queensland had become a very progressive nation since its breakaway. Laws became publicly driven through reality television shows and a strong artistic culture was born because of Karl’s entertainment obsession. Rosie was now a people smuggler, smuggling alternative Australians into QLD. She hoped she’d never get caught or she would have to face a sentence of 10 years of insanity by dad jokes.
This one goes out to Josh Kudeborg, who gave me: “Finding Love at the Elderley Citizen Centre”
Joan was furious that her favourite Mills and Boon book from the elderly citizen centre had graffiti on it again. Damn kids. Too embarrassed to bring it up at the weekly meeting, she endured the notes. The sauciest page was completely obscured by the words ‘Tiger, Need you 6pm tonight.’ Little did Joan know this was actually Betty and Jack’s way of keeping their affair at the centre secret.
‘Now if you go down the high street you’ll come to the town’s main attraction,’ the information lady was saying. Incidentally she was also the post office lady and the green grocer. James was already regretting coming to this industrial town, it was small, ugly and boring.
‘What is it?’ he asks.
‘Genie from number 42,’ she responds as if this makes everything clearer. ‘You can’t miss her.’
Minutes later James grumbles down the high street. He spots who can only be Genie. 70 years old, her grey hair falls like a curtain to the ground, her skin sags south too, giving her a bizarre distorted expression as she stands on her head.
A sign besides her reads ‘I am the woman who’s been holding up the earth all these years.’
James laughed. ‘Like atlas eh?’
‘What’s atlas?’ Genie replies. Even her voice sounds frail though she continues to stand on her head, obviously very practiced. ‘Anyway love, you’ll have to come back later to watch me in action, I’ve got a lunch break,’ she continues.
James snorts, ‘But the earth’ll fall down?’
But just as he says this a young miner walks up.
‘Morning Genie,’ he says smiling.
The two smoothly swap places.
‘A girl’s gotta eat,’ Genie says wondering off.
Perhaps this town wasn’t so boring. It was certainly mad, James thought, but it had its charm.
Laura Noonan gave me the trigger ‘appletini, plumber and cyclone’. Here is my story. Starting to realise that the idea of editing needs to be thrown out the window. This is live and unedited!
2450. 10 years since cocktail night. The day that changed the world. Changes in the atmosphere and climate caused streams of baileys to flow from the rivers and the seas became polluted with vodka. Most eco-systems have been destroyed causing mass extinction and animal alcoholism, particularly amongst oxen.
Plumber and water baron, Gina Palmer, surveys her newest water bar. Thousands are congregating outside, she can almost feel the thirst of the crowd for sobriety; for relief. It was almost too easy. A waiter passed her a premium tap water, liquid gold.
A familiar hiss from the crowd outside had started. It was the protestors. Scientists had been sending Gina threats since the global disaster. They warned if she didn’t stop controlling water supplies and donate to research into the phenomena more drastic alcoholic events could occur. Gina didn’t even bother look up to see them, she thought it was ridiculous, besides this was making her the richest woman in the world.
The familiar chants of ‘We won’t be filtered!’ drifted through the glass and then suddenly they stopped. Gina looked up for the first time, they’d never stopped before. Then it hit, the glass shattered and the roof lifted off the bar, appletini poured in from the skies. The cyclone wiped out most of the city that day.
Here is the trigger I was given by the dog loving Michael- http://webby.com/humor/i/Weary-Traveler.jpg
“Jazz was probably the world’s best hungover godparent, she smiled smugly. The dog had been dropped home and now, quality time with her niece.”
This is part 2 of my to be continued series from my first story- including the talented very young writers ideas- Madelaine Spina who gave me the trigger “Waterfall, hidden cave behind it and an inheritance” Also Madelaine- I think you’d be happy to know I am currently listening to the Harry Potter soundtrack to block out the sleepover chatting noise.
Matthew looked at the map then back up at the waterfall. How could it be in the waterfall? He read the accompanying story again though he knew the paragraph off by heart.
Frank first found the storytellers in the waterfall. They were tall, willowy and very quiet; always writing, always listening. They never left their posts.
Something clicked in Matthews brain, could it be behind the waterfall. Was this crazy? It was too late he’d jumped, precariously landing on an algae covered rock. A few more curiosity fuelled leaps and he was there. The water pelted him for a moment and then he was through. Huge arched cave walls glittered back at him, but Matthew was disappointed. There was no storyteller, just a limp leafless tree. He looked around, no doorways, nothing. He sat down and looked at the map, perhaps the next location would reveal all.
I think I may have just ruined my childhood- but Alex asked for fan fic…
The goblin king shifted awkwardly on his throne. Whilst his pants did look kingly, they were rather snug to his crown jewels. Hoggle stood before him.
‘Why do they call you the goblin king, I’m a goblin. You’re not,’ Hoggle prodded.
‘Goblin’s can’t be trusted to govern themselves,’ the king snapped. ‘Besides, I write the catchiest goblin tunes, I think in another life I was an international rockstar.’
Hoggle sniffed. ‘Self obsessed prick.’
‘Look,’ said the King. ‘I just want you to give this poisoned fruit to young Sarah so I can keep her baby brother! You used to love a bad boy.’
Hoggle took the fruit but glared nonetheless. ‘Not anymore,’ he muttered.
What a sneaky little rat, the King thought. Never work with exes.
Forced to recline because he couldn’t fit in his bespoke designer arm chair, Mr Piggot felt he had achieved ‘fat-rich-pig’ status. He lifted his feet onto the suede ottoman looking across at his brown socks, his purpling ankles peeping from the bottom of his trousers. The socks of despair he thought. As it turns out, creating a monopoly on socks and undergarments hadn’t made him happy. Screw it he thought, how about a monopoly on piggy banks? Yes that might work, surely happiness was just around the corner? I’m onto something he thought, forgetting his woes once again.
Hello All! This is the first story and I’m not going to say whose idea this is yet because… DUN DUN DUN! It is a to be continued and hopefully I’ll be able to weave it through throughout the stories. If you can guess props to you!
Of all the things I’ve left for you, this book is the dearest. These browned worn stories are very fragile. I hope you will find the same mystery and joy in them as I have. I spent many of my younger years researching these stories, but never found any scientific explanation for them. The last one is from me and includes a map of their origin. Hopefully it will explain everything.
Here is my first vlog!
There’s a matter of hours before this whole thing kicks off! Remember submissions open 9pm tonight! Tweet @freyawriter or facebook at http://www.facebook.com/24hrwritingchallenge And if you’re in Newcastle for TiNA or NYWF or any of the other festivals on this weekend please do come in and see me I’m at the Elderly Citizen Centre in Liang Street (behind the mall near One Penny Black).
Look out for my hourly-ish video blogs too! All stories and blogs will be posted here on this page. Now DISCLAIMER TIME* There are some unforeseen interweb and 3G issues at my venue, so if nothing has happened on the site or fb/twitter pages for a while please be understanding of my internet woes. I promise I’ll still be writing and will post the backlog as soon as I can get access again.
Thanks so much for following my challenge I hope to thank you all for your support by supplying you all with wit and/or deliriousness.
I went to meet my old writing lecturer the other day and she made me promise to film updates of myself every hour. SO! Every hour-ish I shall upload a short video update of sleep deprived ramblings so you can not only read my brains demise but watch it too!
Videos will be posted to this blog home page. If I start to forget by hour 20 just go to my youtube channel http://www.youtube.com/user/InternetTelly (and yes when I was 13 I thought a cool username would be InternetTelly, and now I can’t change my url…)
It’s been less than 24 hours but already 60 likes on my facebook page! As thanks to you all here are some facts about things that happen every 24 hours:
We will each speak around 48,000 words.
Earth will be hit by lightning more than 8.6 million times.
Your heart beats around 100,000 times.
If you have any friends who like writing, or weird facts… or sadistically challenging writers to write their ideas for them, please share this project with them. This event all depends on you: the followers!
This home page is where all the stories during my 24 hour challenge will be posted. Watch this space! Writing commences at 10pm on the 4th of October.
Until then feel free to click around the site or follow me on twitter @freyawriter or facebook at facebook.com/24hrwritingchallenge for updates on how nervous I’m getting!