Thread to Write a Story Using One Sentence Per Post

Fourteen days to Chistmas, but the surroundings looked the same as any other time of the year - there was to be no knock on the door, no children laughing, no pulling of crackers - it was all over now.

"Poor gentlemen, very poor indeed."

Professor McTavish was once again extremely disappointed in his creative writing class' efforts to begin a short story.

"They are, of course, 'text book beginings'" he told the assembled layabouts who passed for literature students in the 21st century.

"Indeed, too textbook.

One is defeated by the writer's eagerness to set up as many questions in as short a space as possible; the other is simply boring.

I suggest, gentleman, we start again."

For a long time I used to go to bed early.

(that one's for Ross Blackman)

'V' sat facing the entrance to Marylebone station, clutching the black leather briefcase to his chest, his nervous gaze flitting back and forth to the taxi rank outside.

And what was the evil entity which had just planted this absurd thought in his mind?

"Good God not mind controlling alien lizard invasion again" thought McTavish, wondering if this particular obsession was unique to Norwich FE College or a feature of all second-rate creative writing courses.

The Buyer studied the taxis lined up before him closely, checking for any signs of aftermarket modifications.

The Seller studied The Buyer thinking the aftermarket modifications would not be visible from such a cursory inspection, being, as they were, discreet.

cheers

Nigel

And then the Buyer took out his CELL phone in it's Padded cover and asked his team of specialists "Chaps - which one should it be"..

Derek

<< >>

McTavish noted with approval that one of his students had at least to managed some semblence of real horror by introducing the idea of a riced up Skoda ferrying people around Staffordshire.

Answering the call the aliens breathed a collective sigh; <oh not him again...> thought the hive-mind.

Domf got up from his couch for the first time in what seemed days to cross the bare room to the door, barely noticing the glinting taxi light pulled up on the wet pavement outside.

"So, Marco" said McTavish "do you think this toy car has a valid Hackney licence?"

cheers

Nigel

But while Marco and McTavish were innocently debating the finer points of the Hackney Carriage rulebook, the baleful lizards from the planet anaM were beginning to put into action their fiendish plans for world domination...

Snapping to, The Buyer recoiled from the incoherence surrounding his fragile sanity; "I'm not a lizard," he reminded himself, "it's just that Old Peculiar messing with my meds."

But the, The Buyer recalled, I have always been interested in dinosaurs and I've also had a bit of a thing for geckos most of my adult life... what can it mean?

Uhm, he thought was the what Q warned me that V had seen as the longterm plan. The honk of a taxi horn stopped this train..... surely 'Toy' was not around....

As Domf rounded the corner he recognised the signs, the wet pavement, the flickering taxi light, the dank smell of pond weed - he had been watching "Attack of the Killer Lizard Men from Mars" only yesterday.

Marco sprawled across the back seat of the taxi wearing a silk shirt open to the waist and a pair of leather trousers: "It's time, my little lizard," he said, "for the gratuitous sex scene"

As the creak of leather fell into the rhythmn of the taxi's wiper blades, Marco's mind emptied, until it was invaded by an uninvited realisation, prompted by the situation - "I have just remembered where I have seen that wallpaper before"!!