Wednesday March 2nd, 2011

The exercise:

Today we write about: originals.

The snow was gone by noon today - not that it was particularly warm or sunny, but it disappeared all the same, so I shan't complain.


"It's a copy," the man pointed out, sniffing daintily.

"Of course it is," I replied, giving him a hard look. "I'm not an idiot."

"The original is still kept under lock and key," he continued as though I hadn't spoken. "A man couldn't get within twenty feet of it without setting off a dozen alarms."

I didn't bother saying anything. Instead I studied the replica in my hands, turning it over and over, mesmerized by its beauty. Or perhaps I was just entranced by how much the real deal was worth and relished holding its twin. It wasn't the same, obviously, but it was a nice warm-up.

"Have you seen enough already?" he asked as I handed it back to him.

"Oh, no. Not at all." I smiled at his blank expression. Once his confusion looked like it was prepared to form itself into another question, I pulled out my gun and aimed right between his eyes. "So how about you take me to the original?"


Greg said...

Ah, transient snow, one of the better kinds. Lasting long enough to watch and enjoy, but not so long as to turn dirty and icy and treacherous. That definitely sounds like the best kind.

There's definitely something to be said for owning the real thing, and your protagonist certainly knows how to go about it! I'm not sure why, but something about the last paragraph makes me think of a criminal Indiana Jones :)

Any thoughts yet on the celebrations for the 1000th blogpost? How about writing 1000 lines of "Happy Blogday to Me"? Or perhaps you could get a thousand pigeons, attach one word of a thousand word short story to each of them, and let them free. People all round the world could collect the words and attempt to reassemble them into your story.
You could even bake a cake, put a thousand lit candles on it, and then post pictures of it (plus the ones of the fire brigade arriving, and Kat slapping you for trying to burn the house down... it would be a great photoset!)
Hmm, looking back over these original ideas, I wonder if you're going to be as enthusiastic about them as I am?

Monica Manning said...

I always love your twist endings, Marc. Great stuff!

Greg's enthusiasm is contagious. Your 1000th blog post is a milestone deserved of spectacular celebration!

My piece, too long for your blog (as usual) is here

g2 (la pianista irlandesa) said...

I'm gonna do a quick continuation of 'Loo's... because I can.
- - - - - - - - - -
It took him a minute to realize what was happening, but I could tell when he did, and his eyes widened. He tried to argue, bargain, plead, but his tongue wouldn't cooperate.

I decided to save him the trouble. "Look, this original is pretty important to me, but you said so yourself: I couldn't get within twenty feet of it. Unless I had some help with the alarms, of course."

He shook his head, careful not to touch his forehead to the gun's barrel. "This is... this is ridiculous!" he squawked.

"Not so loud," I shushed gently, placing my other hand over his mouth. "Now listen: I suggest you just give me a hand by turning off the alarms and giving me a ten minute head start. That's more than fair.

"Course," I continued, dropping my hand, "it is your choice, though I highly recommend helping me out. It'll be easier for me, less painful for you, and one less thing for the cleaning crew to scrub up."

"Oh, come on, you can't be ser--"


"I'm afraid I am."
- - - - - - - - - -
I'm going to end it there. Not sure why, but I am.

I'm not gonna lie, I like Greg's different ideas for commemorating the thousand-prompt mark. I'm partial to the pigeon one. In any case, you're gonna have to come up with something soon. ^^

summerfield said...

He pulled her towards her, grabbing her waist with both hands, and gently sat her down on his lap. Her eyes darted about the large living room, the stereo in one corner and a large mural, his own handiwork, on a wall. He felt her unease and whispered in her ear, "It's okay, you're not hurting me this way. It's okay." and that made her relax. She rested her cheek on his forehead and closed her eyes. She imagined them dancing and unconsciously she made a humming sound.

"Hmmmm..." Alessandro said. "Yes, I think I would like us to dance."

He pressed a button on the right hand pad of his wheelchair and the living room lights became the soft glow of a hundred candlelights. He placed her arm around his shoulders while his one hand held the small of her back.

"We want music, right?" he asked and she nodded.

Alessandro pressed another button and the stereo made a small hissing sound before it clicked to the soft sound of bells, the intro to "Baby I"m for Real" by The Originals .

Portia sat still not wanting for the moment to end, but she knew, he would be gone soon.

marc, this was the first thing that came to mind when i saw your prompt.

Marc said...

Greg - I'm rather fond of the pigeon idea, actually :)

Monica - thank, and it's great to see you 'round here again. I shall pop by your blog shortly.

g2 - I'm so happy that you continued that! And I think you ended it at a great spot :)

And yeah, I'm going to have to figure something out tomorrow I think.

Summerfield - I'm torn between thinking that's a very sweet, sad scene... and thinking it's awesome that guy is so slick, having the lights and stereo controls on his wheelchair :D

summerfield said...

ngek! horrors!

my first line should've read: He pulled her towards him.

read your work, summerfield, before pressing send, you foolish, foolish woman.

Marc said...

Summer - I hadn't even noticed that until you pointed it out, so don't worry about it :)