JIM'S SHORT STORY - PASSAGE 4 - ENTRY OPEN

[mandyb]

SHORT STORY - PASSAGE 4 - ENTRY NOW OPEN

Postby jiminski on 24 Sep 2008, 13:51


Hello,

I thought it could be worth trying to write a story. I am sure it will fizzle out but let's try for a moment.
This one is not made up of single lines and does not use every piece of banal nonsense - Inevitably that ends in spam and gibber. (unlike this of course)

The rules:

Each week whoever wants to, can submit a passage.
First week will be titled Passage 1 and all entrants should use that denotation. (second week Passage 2 and so on)

Voting
- At the end of the week.. or when we have more than one passage, more likely, we all post a vote* on our favourite and most relevant addition to the story.
- I will then update this on the Front page, with the winner each week going to be part of the evolving story.


Passage
- Minimum of 150 words, Try to keep to a of Maximum 360 Words
- Must be your own creation (heh, I will check if it is too good)
- Has to follow on the thread of the previous passage.**
- Can be as insane, creative or nonsensical as you like, colourful language is fine within the context of the story. Sex would be nice too.
- The most popular passage wins, so write whatever tickles your chestnuts!


*I can perhaps make a new poll each week .. we will address this if there are more people partaking than just me and some lippy smart arse. (cue lippy smart-arse)
**I will decide when a new Chapter can begin. That means the story can go off on a complete tangent, to be drawn together later. It may be that we could discuss how developments could occur and how parallel thread can be interwoven


NB. It is important that spelling and punctuation is somewhere near correct, just for comprehensions sake (i certainly need that!)
Grammar Nazis will be welcome but to participate, not to mock and dissuade the creative process please.

[mandyb]

The Peoples Tale so far...

Park Lane Hotel conference room, 27th May 2013

Pulling the pocket-sized PC projector out of his briefcase, Geoffrey Dymock carefully adjusted the focus button before inserting it into a USB port on his laptop computer.

The busty conference room waitress asked if he wanted tea or coffee. Engrossed in fiddling with the projector, he didn’t even bother to look up.

“Mineral water” said Dymock bluntly. It was obvious Dymock was in no mood for discussion. The assistant, who was actually gagging for a coffee, also ordered mineral water.

Dymock set the PC projector on the conference room table, the contents of his laptop screen reflecting sharply on a large screen. He opened the presentation and tested the first couple of slides to make sure they were legible. Then he tested them again.

Reluctantly, with nothing more to do, he sat down, and then they waited. Two nervous suits in a big London conference room sipping mineral water.

A mere twenty five minutes later, bang on schedule as far as Dimitri Balinova was concerned, the great man entered the room, a lackey but two paces behind. Without preamble, without fanfare, and without so much as a smile, he took a seat at the head of the table.

“Ok” said Balinova, throwing sunglasses, car keys and mobile phone onto the table, “what have you got?”


Dymock launched into presentation mode, rationalising this, explaining that, itemising the other.

Balinova interrupted. “Just cut to the chase, show me what you got.”

“Well, it seems our target is worth some 200 million dollars, lives on a large purpose built 210 ft Palmer Johnson Yacht just off Acapulco. It is fitted with all early warning systems, SAM ground to air missiles, all the usual trappings of a man of his wealth…”

“Yeah yeah” interjected Balinova, not interested in hearing that this man was worth more then him…..”So can he be got at?”

“So what would you like to know?” asked Dymock irritated. This presentation had taken over 45 man hours, mainly his man hours, and it was being flushed down the toilet by this Russian ingrate.

“What do you mean what do I want to know?” said Balinova, starting to get riled, a feat which never took too much effort. “I want to know whether the man we have in the frame can be got at!!! That’s what we’re here for isn’t it?”

“Well I’m coming to that” said Dymock, reluctant to abandon several slides of meticulously gleaned data.

“Well for f*ck sakes come to it now” growled Balinova.

“OK, we have managed to overcome the main security in his computer system, but we still have to gain access to the top level security priorities…”

“OK, OK, I get it, but you can fix all that, right?” interrupted Balinova impatiently.

“Right?” he repeated.

“Well yes” said Dymock, “we’re working on some software that should bypass the levels...”

“Don’t give me ‘should’ Dymock,” snapped Balinova “give me ‘will’ will bypass the security levels, this is kindergarten computer class shit.”

“Yes” said Dymock tensely “we will bypass the security levels...”

“And the man, can we get to him?” asked Balinova, rapidly getting angry.

“We have an operative going through the final stages of joining the crew as we speak”

“Well you had better hope he gets the fuckin’ job Dymock”

Dymock sighed, as others played, this was what he spent his weekends working for. This was what he had given his life up for…

‘She, sir,’ said Dymock. ‘It’s all been taken care of.’

**************************
‘Who shall we be today, today, who shall we beeeee today…’
Constanza Mille-Fleur Rococo tried to stand on her tip-toes to peer out of the French windows at the glorious autumn morning, but the mattress was too soft and she teetered backwards. Giggling, she planted a hand on the bedstead and flicked her legs up and over the dead body lying next to her, flashing a heart-stoppingly perfect bottom and a pair of white panties to any telescope-wielding gentleman lucky enough to live in the buildings across the park.
‘That’s for you, boys,’ she growled huskily, before laughing again and collapsing in a gangly heap next to the bed. Beneath it was a large suitcase, blocked by a fat, lifeless arm hanging down from the mattress. Constanza tutted and sighed.
‘Now now silly, I told you to keep your hands to yourself.’ She tried to push the arm to one side, but it was as stiff as a pipe wrench. She rolled her eyes theatrically, placed one foot against the offending elbow, reached for the wrist and pulled it with a movement of sudden and violent strength. There was a crack.
‘Bang!’
Constanza placed the now dangling limb next to its body on the mattress, gave it an affectionate little pat, pulled the suitcase towards her and opened it. Humming happily, a quizzical finger at the side of her mouth, she drew from it a viciously bobbed black wig, a pair of enormous sunglasses and a beige raincoat.
‘Natalia!’ she squealed. ‘It’s been too, too long!’ She clutched the wig to her chest and hugged it. A phone in the suitcase began to ring. She flicked it open and glowered.
‘Da,’ she growled.
‘Bucephalus – its Dymock. You need to be in Mexico in five hours. As arranged.’
‘Who? You hev wrong number.’
Dymock sighed. ‘Angelina?’
Silence.
‘Natalia…’
‘Da.’
‘Natalia, stop fooling around and get down to Acapulco immediately. You know what to do.’
‘Go loco?’
Click.
Constanza dressed quickly, pulled on her wig, closed the case and took a last look towards the bed.
‘Bye bye,’ she cooed. The door closed behind her. She had a plane to catch.


===========================================================


ENTRY NOW OPEN, PLEASE COMMENCE YOUR NARRATIVE.

Passage 4 - Options:


Entry 1

Frederick Caesar III, Great Grandson of Hungarian immigrant István Császár, was bored. Bored of everything. In fact he was so bored even the normally invigorating sight of the two supple young females enjoying each other’s body on the Persian rug in front of him just made him yawn.

Freddy, as he was known to his close circle, and that circle had got ever closer over the years, was wondering what life would throw at him now. Here he was, rich beyond the imagination of most, with anything his heart desired at his fingertips. The Yacht, the Gulfstream 550 jet waiting patiently on the tarmac a few miles away, the Villa in Gstaad he hadn’t visited in a few years, the Picasso hanging in the Stateroom suite, everything. But he was bored God damn it!

The Bang and Olufsen phone in front of him purred gently into life. Switching the music down he reached for it, admiring, as he always did, at the machining and the perfection of design and functionality.

“Yes”

There was no need for him to say anything else. The only calls that came through to him on this phone were internal or had been screened heavily, so the caller always knew it was him at the other end.

A voice, gravelly from years of smoking Gauloise cigarettes came through, “Our new staff member shall be arriving soon Sir”

“Everything checked out?” he responded, more of a statement than a question.

“All is in order”

Without saying anything else, Freddy set the work of art down. Stretching, yawning and then, with much of the peasant blood still running through him, passed wind.

Standing he clapped his hands. “Get out!”

The two girls hurriedly exited the room; after all, they could continue down in the cabin Freddy had so kindly provided them with, even if was aft.

Walking with a languid, almost bored, pace Freddie moved out to the deck. As always the heat choked his lungs, even here on the water it seemed stifling, and he immediately longed for the cool of the air conditioning again. But curiosity was his master this moment. Picking up his binoculars he scanned the water, quickly getting a visual on his pride and joy, the Ferrari Riva, and it was closing fast.


Entry 2

Miguel Diaz took a bite from his prime rib. He could never get enough of the tender meat that was raised on his cattle ranch in Chili. Seated across the mahogany table from Miguel his wife Maria was just finishing her dinner. To the left of Miguel was his 26 year old son Richard, reading a copy of that day’s Wall Street Journal. To the right of Miguel sat his 24 year old daughter Sonia, her head looking down on her food.
“Is Pedro’s replacement coming?” asked Miguel.
Richard put down the paper and looked at his father, “yes papa, Natalia will be here tomorrow.”
Sonia started to sob as trickles of tears landed on her plate.
“I will have no crying from you!”, as Miguel slammed the table with his right fist. Maria looked at Miguel as their eyes meet. Miguel lowered his head toward his plate as he spoke. “If you are done, Sonia, you can leave”.
Sonia rose from the table. Baggy sweats could not hide her tall shapely body. As she slowly walked away, her fingers brushed her cheek, as she still felt the day-old bruise left there by her father.
Miguel rose from the table and left the dining area. He walked outside and stood by the railing of his yacht. Looking out across the Acapulco harbor he took out his cell phone and placed a call.
“Antonio, are you done yet?” Miguel asked.
Fifty miles west of Acapulco on the open ocean Antonio answered his cell phone. The small motor boat Antonio was on rocked gently in the calm waters. “Si Jefe, it will be done within a few minutes”, Antonio replied.
Antonio sighed as he looked at the bound man lying on the deck of the boat. Antonio looked the man in the eyes as he said, “Ah Pedro, we had such good times, why did you have to dick the Jefe’s daughter.” Antonio lifted the bound man, hoisted him into the water and watched the weighted body disappear from sight into the blue waters of the Pacific.



Read each Option, when poll is posted next Saturday - Vote for your Favourite Passage and the most popular will continue our epic tale!

[mandyb]

saved

[mandyb]

Ok, it seems that the consensus is to continue this thread.
So, let's give it a go!

The rules remain the same. Send your entries to me and I will post them anonymously. Anyone wishing to remain anonymous should say so in their pm and I will honour that request.

I'm kinda winging it here, so if anyone has any suggestions, please post them!

So get writing peeps - I'll give it till a week on Saturday, before grappling with the poll.

Good luck, and let the story continue!

[mandyb]

Right you lot!

Hope you're all busy gathering words and putting them together in a wee chapter for me.

Don't think it has to be particularly long, in fact, it's been suggested that we try to keep it shorter in order to invite more participants. 150 words is fine and no more than 350 for this weeks entry. Next week, we can look at a stricter word limit - all suggestions welcome.

As I said earlier, you can remain anonymous if you so desire.
We have a great first entry already and I'm assured 2 more are on the way.
Don't be shy; I know there's talent out there - don't hide your light under a bushel, let the whole world see.....or at least us good old CCers.

[mandyb]

Bump
Mainly because our chaosfactor has gone and bumped the old thread. Ahhhh, bless.

This is the one to write in chaos, but do it when you're sober k?...I think that's when you make more sense....

[william18]

can we have more time?

[mandyb]

can we have more time?

Yes, Wills - it's open 'till Saturday 22nd.
Sorry, I didn't make that very clear I guess, but I thought since there was a bit of a lull before, that I'd give people plenty of time to re-read and come up with something through the coming week.
The poll will go up Saturday sometime, so I'll need the entries before then.

[mandyb]

Time's a flyin' people!
I was promised at least 4 more stories here - I sincerely hope those 4 people aren't going to let me down.
I do so hate to be disappointed.

You have till Saturday; after that, I will not be held responsible for my actions.

[Sackett58]

Time's a flyin' people!
I was promised at least 4 more stories here - I sincerely hope those 4 people aren't going to let me down.
I do so hate to be disappointed.

You have till Saturday; after that, I will not be held responsible for my actions.

oh oh