One of my writing groups had a challenge to rewrite a fairy tale whose main character has been swapped from a different fairy tale. Here's my take: a spot of humor on this crazy Friday...
Once upon a time, in a dark and scary wood--
"Seriously? You're gonna go with dark and scary? Why not tenebrous or ominous?" Hare said. His silly smile interrupted by those awkwardly gigantic front teeth.
Tortoise frowned and looked up from his desk; his pen still in his stumpy paw. He breathed in and out. Twice. Trying to keep his slow and steady composure. "Who is writing the story my dear friend?" He blinked bulbous eyes.
Hare slouched on Tortoise's desk, looking over his paper with that ever-twitching nose of his. "All right, have it your way, but really 'Once upon a time' is kind of cliche. Don't you think?"
"You have your own paper, why don't you--"
"I already wrote a story Side-kick. And you still weren't done, so I thought I'd help."
Tortoise sighed. "Thank you, but I really don't need your help."
"No really, how about this," Hare stretched his arms out in front of him as if he were visualizing some grandiose production. "No one has ever been brave enough to enter the ominous and tenebrous woods behind Happy Valley until now..." He paused for dramatic effect. "Whatdya think?"
"I think it's nice, you should write another."
"Another?" Hare's face fell and his ears drooped down passed his shoulders.
"Unless you have a better idea." Tortoise offered, but he knew there was no other idea. He and Hare had been locked up in that stone tower for weeks now. And truth be told, Hare was grinding on Tortoise's patience. That pink nose that never stopped twitching, that annoyingly cute little fluffy tail, and his ever-present chatter! The rodent wouldn't stop talking for a moment! Tortoise was delighted when he found two quills and some parchment paper. He'd encouraged Hare to write, thinking that for all the activity in his, excuse the pun, hare-brained head, he'd have tons to write.
But, alas. The thoughts in Hare's head weren't necessarily numerous, it was just that the inside of his brain was less like a sponge for knowledge and more like a pinball machine. The same idea just bounced around in there until it popped out between his buck teeth.
It was hopeless, they were trapped in that tower together, for eternity. All because Tortoise had made one hasty decision--at that fluffy animal's persistence--and ventured with him down that stupid rabbit hole!
"Hello!"
A voice from the outside!
Tortoise rose, Hare twitched nervously. Both of them reluctant to approach the one window. The last time they'd approached, it had been nothing more than a mockingbird.
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your hair!"
Tortoise smiled. Surely one more hasty decision wouldn't hurt.
Showing posts with label Challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Challenge. Show all posts
Friday, August 26, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
1435
This was a challenge for a short story on one of my yahoo groups. We had to finish the story after the first paragraph. This is what I came up with. Enjoy.
"A box arrives from the attorney of your missing, though quite eccentric,
Uncle Harry. Opening it, you find it is full of worn books, mainly classics,
but near the bottom you find an untitled journal. When you open it up, a
note and a small metal disk falls to the floor. Opening the piece of
parchment paper, you see its a wanted poster with your Uncle's name on it,
dated 1435. When you pick up the disk, it begins to vibrate in your hand.
You start to feel dizzy...."
Ms. Parker looked up at us over the flat top of her glasses and her lips puckered into that tiny smirk.
It was time.
The eraser end of my pencil froze in mid-bounce off my lips as my eyes met hers. My fingers twitched to flip over the paper on my desk. Already thoughts were spinning in my head. Ideas. I was being swept away into a story of my own making. I could hear the steady tick of the second hand, one, two three...
"Go!" Her smile launched in full now as the flutter of paper flipping across formica desk tops filled the room.
I turned my paper over fully, my pencil poised above it. Thoughts and images formed in my mind's eye. A scene played out before me. I could go with the obvious--time travel--the disk a portal back into 1435. I would go with the obvious. I had precious little time before Ms. Parker would call, "pencils down." And collect our stories.
Mine had yet to be her favorite.
When we were to write about lost socks, my sock took an arduous journey through burr infested forests, narrowly escaping mouse fangs and a bird snatching, to try and find its way back to mother sock and his identical siblings. Ms. Parker thought it "creative". But picked Jenny's pristine presentation of a sock that fell from the laundry basket out in the yard only to be found later, under the porch, with the cat and her new baby kittens. Awww, how sickly adorable.
And the story about the father and son fishing trip had been no different. A beast the size of a great white shark, ascended the depths of the placid pond to overturn the crude row boat in my story. Leaving my characters to sink into the abyss, only to be rescued by a school of sea monkeys--very different from the traditional variety--so they can help defeat the monster of the pond. I needed more time on that one, to flesh out the details, but really, Bobby's story about the boy saying, "Daddy, daddy, look! I caught one!" and ending right there. While it was sentimental, since the father did hand his son the fishing pole with a fish on it unbeknownst to the son...c'mon, really? Bore me!
But this time, this time I would have the advantage. This time she is asking for--no begging for--the supernatural!
Oh, I was listening in history class. I know all about the mysterious Joan of Arc. Ms. Parker is going to just love my rendition of Ms Arc's unknown child--the one with the same powers her mother had. The one that good ol' Uncle Henry (Joan's lover) takes out of 1435 and brings to present day, for me to protect and befriend. Only Uncle Henry's been taken back! And it's up to me and Joan of Arc's daughter to go to 1435 to rescue him, without getting caught. Hold onto your spectacles Ms. Parker, 'cause this one's gonna blow...you...away.
Uncle Harry. Opening it, you find it is full of worn books, mainly classics,
but near the bottom you find an untitled journal. When you open it up, a
note and a small metal disk falls to the floor. Opening the piece of
parchment paper, you see its a wanted poster with your Uncle's name on it,
dated 1435. When you pick up the disk, it begins to vibrate in your hand.
You start to feel dizzy...."
Ms. Parker looked up at us over the flat top of her glasses and her lips puckered into that tiny smirk.
It was time.
The eraser end of my pencil froze in mid-bounce off my lips as my eyes met hers. My fingers twitched to flip over the paper on my desk. Already thoughts were spinning in my head. Ideas. I was being swept away into a story of my own making. I could hear the steady tick of the second hand, one, two three...
"Go!" Her smile launched in full now as the flutter of paper flipping across formica desk tops filled the room.
I turned my paper over fully, my pencil poised above it. Thoughts and images formed in my mind's eye. A scene played out before me. I could go with the obvious--time travel--the disk a portal back into 1435. I would go with the obvious. I had precious little time before Ms. Parker would call, "pencils down." And collect our stories.
Mine had yet to be her favorite.
When we were to write about lost socks, my sock took an arduous journey through burr infested forests, narrowly escaping mouse fangs and a bird snatching, to try and find its way back to mother sock and his identical siblings. Ms. Parker thought it "creative". But picked Jenny's pristine presentation of a sock that fell from the laundry basket out in the yard only to be found later, under the porch, with the cat and her new baby kittens. Awww, how sickly adorable.
And the story about the father and son fishing trip had been no different. A beast the size of a great white shark, ascended the depths of the placid pond to overturn the crude row boat in my story. Leaving my characters to sink into the abyss, only to be rescued by a school of sea monkeys--very different from the traditional variety--so they can help defeat the monster of the pond. I needed more time on that one, to flesh out the details, but really, Bobby's story about the boy saying, "Daddy, daddy, look! I caught one!" and ending right there. While it was sentimental, since the father did hand his son the fishing pole with a fish on it unbeknownst to the son...c'mon, really? Bore me!
But this time, this time I would have the advantage. This time she is asking for--no begging for--the supernatural!
Oh, I was listening in history class. I know all about the mysterious Joan of Arc. Ms. Parker is going to just love my rendition of Ms Arc's unknown child--the one with the same powers her mother had. The one that good ol' Uncle Henry (Joan's lover) takes out of 1435 and brings to present day, for me to protect and befriend. Only Uncle Henry's been taken back! And it's up to me and Joan of Arc's daughter to go to 1435 to rescue him, without getting caught. Hold onto your spectacles Ms. Parker, 'cause this one's gonna blow...you...away.
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