| Story Version 4.1 |
[Nov. 5th, 2005|08:28 pm] |
Reposted from this thread
Jane sat down and set her briefcase carefully on her knees. She looked around nervously to make sure the coast was clear, and then looked around again as a precaution. She told herself she was being silly, paranoid, but then it was hardly surprising that she felt anxious. After a third look, she took a deep breath and opened the briefcase.
Or tried to. The lock was stuck. Jane double checked the combination and tried again.
Jane narrowed her eyes and examined the briefcase closely and a the hair stood up on the backs of her arms. She shuddered and felt sweat dribbling down between her breasts as she realised that this was not her briefcase.
kay, so she'd merely put the briefcase down and then accidently picked up another that looked similar to it. Save that from the moment that she had received the briefcase it had been handcuffed to her wrist. She checked that the handcuff was still there and intact. It was, and yet the case she was looking at now was not the one she had been given that morning. Bewilderment overcame Jane and she breathed deeply as she tried to comprehend what the consequences of having the wrong case might be.
Wandering outside in order to calm herself, Jane saw a newspaper lying on a bench. She picked it up, and was most alarmed to note that the date at the top was not the date it was supposed to be- this appeared to be tomorrow's paper, published a day early. But why would a newspaper run something twenty four hours early? It didn't make any sense at all...
Continuing on to the nearest shop, Jane decided to ask the lady at the counter of the grocery store what the date was, and was most dismayed to learn that the lady's reply corresponded to the date on the newspaper; Jane appeared to be missing an entire day of her life. But...how did this tie in with the briefcase that was not hers? If she could jump forward in time, or somehow miss a day, perhaps it was not so implausible that the briefcase chained to her wrist was switched over.
"Um.. I don't mean to pry, but.. why do you have a briefcase handcuffed to your wrist?" said a voice. Jane jolted out of her speculation to realise she was still standing at the grocery counter. The voice came from a lanky young man behind her, wearing a suit. He raised his eyebrows, and the lady at the counter gave a shrug, as if to say "Don't ask me, I didn't invite the weirdo.". |
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| Story Version 3.1 |
[Nov. 5th, 2005|08:25 pm] |
Reposted from this thread
Jane sat down and set her briefcase carefully on her knees. She looked around nervously to make sure the coast was clear, and then looked around again as a precaution. She told herself she was being silly, paranoid, but then it was hardly surprising that she felt anxious. After a third look, she took a deep breath and opened the briefcase.
From inside the case a glorious smell arose. A smell evoking childhood summer holidays spent with her grandmother, serene domesticity, the loving family home her career would never allow her to have. A small smile blossomed on her perfectly glossed lips. As she lifted one of the still-warm chocolate chip cookies from the briefcase, the smile widened and she closed her eyes in pure bliss.
No sooner, however, had she lifted the cookie to her lips but a discreet cough sounded behind her. She shut the case in a panic, threw the cookie to the floor (not without a twinge of regret), brushed imaginary crumbs from her immaculate, obviously highly expensive black suit and faced the man who had ruined the moment she'd been waiting for all day.
"Jane? You look flustered, what's wrong?"
Jane gasped at the sight of the one man she had never expected to see again.
"I would have thought you'd already be able to answer that question yourself." Jane replied bitterly, as she looked the man up and down. He gave an impression of wealth, but it was slightly shabby. His suit had been drycleaned a few too many times, his shirt collar was looking thin and his tie had certainly seen better days.
Convinced that this man had no power to hurt her again, she defiantly opened the case again and took another cookie. She had been waiting all day, and no spectre from her past was going to deny her this. |
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| Story Version 2.2 |
[Nov. 5th, 2005|08:23 pm] |
Reposted from this thread
Jane sat down and set her briefcase carefully on her knees. She looked around nervously to make sure the coast was clear, and then looked around again as a precaution. She told herself she was being silly, paranoid, but then it was hardly surprising that she felt anxious. After a third look, she took a deep breath and opened the briefcase.
It was empty.
Sitting there staring at the empty suitcase, pondering the mystery, Jane chanced to look behind her, and gasped in wonder. What had just moments ago been a dull, dubious, run down and rather bleak hotel room had been transformed into grandeur. It seemed that the essence, the very history of the place was shining through the layers of dust, reversing time. The carpets, once threadbare were lustrous and lush. The chipped and waterstained hall stand was now polished, bright, and had a mirror at its head. Jane was awestruck.
She pinched herself, wondering if she had inadvertently fallen asleep. (After all, watching one's favourite relative slowly die, as Jane had been doing for the last week, was not at all conducive to normal sleep patterns) No, the sudden pain shooting through her forearm assured her that she was, indeed awake. But the sudden transformation of her chapped hands which told of too many hours in the kitchen and her bitten fingernails into a smoothness she hardly remembered them having even in her youth astounded her even more, if possible, than the room.
Jane rose slowly, marvelling at how easily her joints moved, without a hint of the arthritic pain that had become such a part of her life that she barely noticed it any more. Setting the briefcase carefully, reverently, on the floor, she crossed the room to the mirror and looked into it. What she saw reflected there was astonishing.
Her skin was smooth and clear; her body slim and taught; breasts firm and perky. The scar that had marred her face for so many years was gone.
She smoothed her hands sensuously down her body admiring her youthful figure and stared into the clear grey eyes reflected in the mirror.
**CRASH!** |
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| Story Version 2.1 |
[Nov. 5th, 2005|08:21 pm] |
Reposted from this thread
Jane sat down and set her briefcase carefully on her knees. She looked around nervously to make sure the coast was clear, and then looked around again as a precaution. She told herself she was being silly, paranoid, but then it was hardly surprising that she felt anxious. After a third look, she took a deep breath and opened the briefcase.
It was empty.
"How could this be?" she thought. She had been specifically told that the briefcase contained something vitally important and that she was not to open it under any circumstances. Okay, she fell down on that last part, but you can't blame a person for being curious, can you? After all, it is only human to be curious. She wondered what it could be about the case that was so important.
Jane tore apart the lining of the case. It always worked in the movies, and it paid off. A brown paper envelope hidden in a false bottom. Then she realised how stupid she had just been, getting too overeager in public. Looking around again she realised she was being watched.
Ethan stood there, one eyebrow raised in that intolerable way which Jane could never quite manage.
"So, you're no better than the rest of them after all. So like a woman. I've told my father over and over again 'Never trust a woman', but does he listen. Evidently not."
Jane glared at him, wanting to strike that smirk off his smug, devastatingly handsome face either with a biting comeback or, if suitable words could not be found, with her fist.
"Well," he continued "take a look. Behold what you have risked your job and, perhaps" (here his smirk got broader and took on a more sinister slant) "even your life to discover"
Almost reluctantly, Jane picked up the envelope and opened it. She gasped
"Ethan...how...why..." She stared at him in a mixture of awe, horror revulsion and fascination.
Ethan giggled, a high pitched squeaking that didn't suit him at all.
"For You, Jane," he chuckled, "Just for you and just for this very moment..." his eyebrow irritatingly raised again and his teeth glinted as he smiled hungrily at her, "did you honestly think that we didn't know? Jane, Jane, Jane," he giggled again, "you're exactly as stupid as I thought you were." |
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| And so it begins. Story Version 1.0 |
[Oct. 30th, 2005|10:00 pm] |
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Jane sat down and set her briefcase carefully on her knees. She looked around nervously to make sure the coast was clear, and then looked around again as a precaution. She told herself she was being silly, paranoid, but then it was hardly surprising that she felt anxious. After a third look, she took a deep breath and opened the briefcase. |
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[Oct. 30th, 2005|09:44 pm] |
Welcome!
With the idea that NaNoWriMo could be a lot of fun but way too much like hard work, ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) splatchtrock decided to gather people together and generate a story - or dozens of stories - as a group. Ever played that game where you pass a piece of paper around in a circle and everybody adds an extra sentence to the story?. ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) story_version_1 is like that game, but better.
Here's the deal:
We have started you off with an opening paragraph. That will be the beginning of all the stories, but it can go any way you like, and in as many different directions as people can think of. All you need to do is find a point at which you'd like to jump in and do just that! Post a comment on the entry containing your little portion of the story, and see where it leads, or comment in reply to somebody else's comment and continue their story (please make sure you click on the right "reply" link, otherwise your thread could get lost!). You can write as little or as much as you like, and you can write as many times as you want.
Every so often (as the need arises) the comment threads or story arcs that have developed will be collated and posted as new entries by one of the mods, so that they can continue to branch and grow without comment threads getting too long and confusing. If the community starts generating lots of stories (and we hope it will!) this will mean lots of posts, so bear this in mind before adding the community to your friends list.
Here is an example of a smaller version of the game that was played out some time ago in splatchtrock's journal. Remember, the more people who get involved, the more stories there will be and the more fun we can have, so tell all your friends to join up as well. The more the merrier!
The only rules are as follows:
- No non-story comments. If you want to tell someone you like their comment, you can do so in their personal journal. If you need to ask a question or raise an issue, you can contact one of the mods via email or comment in this post. Non-story comments are just going to make the threads even more confusing, and we want to keep this as user friendly as possible!
- Limit of one comment per story 'development'. If you run out of space in your comment text box, then finish and let someone else have a turn before you continue. If you write the entire thread yourself it kind of defeats the purpose of making this a group activity!
- Do try not to be deliberately offensive. The mods do have a sense of humour, but there are limits. You can use your common sense on this one.
- Enjoy yourselves! This is supposed to be fun, after all :) Don't stress too much about trying to control the flow of the story. Every path the plot takes has infinite possibilities, so explore them! |
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