Story Vignette Writing

A miniature writing exercise for those on a coffee break. Write a short, brief story on the spot. Try not to mind how it turns out — as long as you get a better feel for things.

If you feel like it, be kind and share a bit of thought on the above poster's story. It helps.

One hot evening Alphonse carried a sleeping Quon up into the spare room, where she could look out over the top of the town when she awoke. There were planes dotting the clear sky. After a while it got dark and the jazz night lights came out. Alphonse went upstairs with a glass of water and a baguette and checked on Quon. She was awake staring out to the sights. Alphonse could hear his parents below drunk and jolly on the wine.

When she took the bagette she nibbled little bites at a time and savoured the crunchy sweetness. Mama would be proud. She helped herself to the drink of water too.

Before Alphonse said his prayers late night he looked upon Quon one more time. It was dim and quiet, and she was tucked underneath the quilt. He wanted to bid her good night, and he did. His words fell on her awake ears. As he went back to his room he heard her say so also and he dreamed a vast blue heaven.

edited 24th Jun '10 8:10:49 AM by QQQQQ

A man and a bear walked side-by-side through the woods at dusk.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" said the man to the bear, spreading his arms and taking in the myriad sights and smells. "The birds singing in the trees, the frogs croaking, the crickets chirping, the way the sunlight filters through the branches! Nature is truly a wondrous thing. Don't you agree?"

"While I admire your enthusiasm, aesthetics don't mean much to me," said the bear. "Nature may be wondrous, but she can be cruel and savage. Also, she has a wicked sense of humor, and you would do well to remember that."

The bear then devoured the man and continued on his way.

Jackson's rocket was being torn apart by a flurry of tentacles, there was no way he was going to come out of this alive. Outside a giant abomination a thousand times the size of Earth writhed and bellowed. The rocket was almost there, Jackson readied; he was clad in his astronaut suit, on hand on the bomb attached to him. "Alright you FUCKER!" the small ejection compartment rocketed forward into the beast's mouth.

He didn't have to go far, just enough to detonate the bomb. It went off with a quick bright flash and went dead.

"Well... Fuck, that did nothing." "Honestly sir, if you really thought that was going to work-" "Hey! You don't disrespect your commander, it always works that way in the fiction." "But we're not in fi-"

Cue Aside Glance

edited 24th Jun '10 12:09:53 PM by Knighted

Edit - Dang it, I suk at speling. A bit long, sorry. I was unaware until after that it should only be one scene.

A heavy-duty truck bounced along the dirt path, running its wheels in the ruts that had been eroded out by contless other vehicles. The driver, a youthful male, frowned and scowled as he alternated his attention from what he felt was little more than a dry streambed, to the dusty gauges on the instrument cluster. As he noticed that the coolant gauge tracking out previously uncharted territory above the 'hot' reading, he swore loudly. Today was not going to be a good day, not by any stretch of his imagination.

He coudl already feel the engine beginning to misfire, the exhaust pulses sounding off and out of time. The roar of the engine changed in harmonics, from the low rumble he had so admired when he had purchased the truck six months ago, to a more strained sound. He looked at the oil pressure gauge and saw with dismay that it was dropping. Warning indicators began to light up, urgently telling him that the vehicle was definitely in trouble. Despite the rock-solid design, that of a powerful workhorse inline six-cylinder, even he doubted that the factory intended it to run long on no coolant and little oil.

And he had thirty more kilometers to go.

"Forget it, drive on!" he yelled over the din, determined to run the truck into the ground. He had no tools, no spare water he could afford to give it. It was going to hvae to run until it died. Every meter it spent in sacrifice was one less meter he would be forced to walk. It was imperative that he make it to town before dusk faded fully into night. Before They came.

The odometer clicked out another full kilometer, then another, until he both heard and felt a temendous racket erupt from in front of hte firewall, where the engine sat. The tachometer fell rapidly and finally stoped at zero. He let the truck coast to a stop, the noise of the rickety rusting frame and the road noise being replaced by the tinging of the engine as it began to cool.

He sat in the cab for a brief moment, reluctant to exit the still-cool interior in exchange for the blistering heat outside, but he coudl already feel the cab warming, now with the air conditioning stopped. A bit of fear started to gnaw at him, that of what the storis said happened to loners out in the wilderness after nightfall, when They began to roam freely. In a mixture of worry and disgust, he wrenched the door handle and slammed his shoulder into the doorframe, and the door flew open. The rusting hinges protested audibly. The youth grabbed his rucksack laying in the passenger footwell and hefted it up, and climbed out of the truck.

He took a few steps down the dirt road and stopped. Casting one look at the abandoned mass of useless metal he had just been driving moments before, he sighed and started to walk off into the setting sun. He would have to hurry to make it to the town before the sunlight disappeared and with it, his chances of seeing another sunrise.

Off in the low hills only a kilometer away, one of Them watched the youth begin to walk north into the setting sun, and It grinned, the ruined fangs gleaming in the sunlight, as It imagined the thrill of the coming chase.

edited 24th Jun '10 3:32:51 PM by pvtnum11

Once their was a young Stoat by the name Bane. Young Bane had always wanted to be a great and magnificent knight, who would vanquish evil from the lands. He practiced his chivalry day and night deep within the woods not far from his village.

It's coffee break. Tony Montana the sysadmin is having the source code compile on the mainframe, and he decides to take the opportunity to kill some time on TV Tropes forums. He discovers a neat little thread in Writers Block - 'Story Vignette Writing.'

Ooh, what's this about?

Upon clicking on the thread, he sees that it's a neat exercise in writing something with what little time there is. He hasn't written anything much creative since university long ago, and it seems a good time to start.

As hard as he tries, his brain is stuck in logic-ville and nothing that seems good comes to mind.

And there's only five minutes left.

Taking a sip of his white coffee, Tony's mind begins to shake and whirr in excitement, and he has a good idea about a neat prince killing an Angel.

But upon laying a finger on the keyboard to type, the mainframe explodes in a shower of confetti. Coffee break is over.

Lol. That actually had me interested.

Rog busted through the door, pancake batter flying everywhere; no breakfast was going to beat him, but it sure was doing a good job of fucking his shit up. "FUCKING STOP YOU PANCAKES" Rog ordered his food as he flicked on his stove and broke the dial, "You're not going to like this!" The stove blazed on and Rog set the pan right over the flames, causing the pancakes to squeal and shriek in terror.

"Rog, you fool! You have made us stronger than ever before!"

"THIS CANNOT BE"

Pancake tackled Rog, the yet uncooked batter dropped to the ground. Pancake had forgotten one thing about Rog, he could EAT him; The man arched forward and took a bite right out of Pancake's face "ARRRGGGH", this gave Rog enough time to reach for his most dangerous weapon. A brand new stainless steel frying pan hammered Pancake on the head, splattering the fridge side of the kitchen with uncooked batter and bread. Rog reached back to take another swing, but Pancake had regained his composure and decided to take a bite out of Rog's ribs!

"FUCKIN' PANCAKES, I WAS GONNA EAT CEREAL TODAY", Rog shuffled and fell back to the foot of the counter, he was visibly wounded.

Pancake readied himself for another lunge; Rog was ready, this time he managed to scoot to the right and Pancake subsequently bludgeoned himself on the hard edge of the counter. It was time to finish this, Rog took the milk he had set aside for his now trying to kill him breakfast and poured it on Pancake.

"Nooooo! Yougrlg- die frlr- thsgrlgrll..."

Pancake was dead

"and shit like this happens EVERYDAY."

edited 25th Jun '10 12:58:50 AM by Knighted

6am before bed — I can do this :

Harry awoke to find himself standing at the edge of a cliff, Men in sunglasses are running after him shooting. He wasn't afraid though He was in control of his mind but his body pushed off the cliff on it's own. He fell a few feet before he began to fly. He looks back and see's the cliff in question is actually a giant carter in the Francisco bay.

Harry isn't wearing any pants, or any clothes for that matter. But he suddenly thinks of them and my some kind of magic he is wearing black and gray suit. He stops in the middle of the ocean now more in control of his body. though he seams to command these powers without him even knowing how. He lifts up one hand as a 20 foot pound rises up out of the ocean and into the air. He does the same with the other hand.

Before he can experiment with his powers more a white bullet hits him square in the forehead causing him the shatter the background behind him as he fall into a hall of mirrors filled with white light, as a man in iron armor and helmet with a goatee, descends onto him at amazing speed. The man throws him into another mirror as it shatters behind him. As this man goes for a second punch but Harry dodges and pushes the man in armor through the shattered mirror which sucks him into another plane of existence, where all the mirrors are windows.

Harry wanders for a few minutes when he is attacked form another mirror and is pulled into it my the man in armor, In desperation he causes an explosion, burning off his clothes and damages all the mirrors shattering them all, He stands at the edge of a cliff the mirrors where are world, he closes his eyes and ...

The timer buzzed. A lanky technician switched it off and glanced at the digital presssure gauge. A mere glance told him everything he needed to know, and his hopes faded. The test had failed. Again. he shook his head in resignation as he started to input the test data into the aged computer on the workbench. As he did so, he almost missed hearing his supervisor walk up, but finally noticed him standing there.

"Hey, Bill," the tech said.

"Failed again, Rob?"

"Piece of crap. It's gotta be the secondary flow valve. Design flat-out sucks," he said, tapping impatiently on a small block of metal jutting out from the mass of piping.

"You try isolating it off yet?"

"No, I was seeing if it was the flow regulator."

"Well, let me know if you need help. I got a meeting to go to in a few minutes, but don't hesitate to come grab me, okay?"

"Is it one of those meetings about the next bunch of meetings, again?"

"Worse. Monthly finance thing. Honestly, all I do there is stare off and try to look awake."

Rob laughed at that. "Well, I gotta get back at this." He flipped on the vacuum pump and opened a valve, and the digital gauge began marching down the scale. Bill nodded and walked away.

edited 25th Jun '10 5:07:05 PM by QQQQQ

The pancake story was hilarious, BTW. I was envisioning this happening in my cramped galley kitchen. Killed by milk. Mow my co-workers are wondering why I'm giggling from my cubicle.

edited 25th Jun '10 6:21:00 PM by pvtnum11

Wasteland Warriors XD

Escape was futile as the claw assassins slowly surrounded them, hissing and screeching they were closing in with much anticipation, claws elongated stretched out, sharper than ever. "Isaiah draws his katanas"

Isaiah "wispering": These creatures, ive seen them before human hybrids created by "The Superior", combinations from the most deadly snakes and reptiles the wastes has to offer.The "pits" "Loreal pits" on their faces are highly sensitive infrared detecting organs - It's their sixth sense! it's their only weakness!! we must strike fast!!!

.......everyone else is dead-the End lol

edited 26th Jun '10 7:18:07 PM by Leadman

just kiddin let me continue

The Assassins were ready for their next kill As the first assassin came rushing towards them !!!

Liora grabbed her "white & black" tiger stripped "imprented" pump shotgun "Get some!!" she roared", and shot the vicious creature in the face!

"Arawreesshssssssss!!!" the monster squiled as it crashed towards the ground "DEAD"

The pack moved swiftly and stratigic around them "looking for their, chance a weak spot" with keen and intiilligent eyes.

Germano"impatient/eagerly":"While shooting rapidly" There are 12 of them and 4 of us, the odds are stacked, what can we do?

Isaiah: "looks at his wrist" "It glows with a powerful aura" A special project i worked on earlier"

"Barada Nikto?" Anyway my advanced

Alex saw himself to the nearest barrel-seat. The bar was aglow with soft wisps of neon from the failing lights, giving the room a weary but serene atmosphere. So tiring, it almost put him to sleep. He needed a buzz. Beer, vodka, whiskey, scotch, anything. He couldn't fall asleep yet, much less in a place like this. Too public. Too scuzzy.

As the lights continued to paint the room in pallid color, Alex pondered his situation. Just what had brought him here again? The town entrance? Or was it before that? Maybe it was after. Right now, he didn't care. He just wanted a drink.

"Yo, barkeep. give me something. Anything. Your pick." A large man approached him. The first thing Alex noticed was his face. Absolutely covered in scar tissue. The second was the absence of anything resembling a drink. "Hey buddy. What gives? I asked for a drink, did I not?"

The walking mountain remained silent, staring at him. With what intent, Alex didn't know. He stared back, focusing all his energy into the man's eyes. The bar was completely empty. Nobody but the deer head and the barkeep around to object to him perusing the contents of the bar. And the barkeep could always be taken care of.

Just as he was beginning to seriously consider this possibility, the man broke the lock, laughing heartily. All at once the man opened up. The man's grizzly bear laugh threw his face into a whole new light, giving it a friendly shape as opposed to the stone soldier that had stood before him moments ago. Alex sighed happily. An initiation for the newcomer. Always nice to see that some people could still hold on to the simple things. People had become too stiff, too rigid for his tastes lately. Meeting people like that left a sour taste in Alex's mouth.

The barkeep turned around, reaching into the bar. After a little meandering, he brought out a glass bottle filled with a large amount of a brown, fizzing concoction. Probably homemade. He poured it into a shotglass with a slosh. The homebrew fizzed and popped. Alex could swear he even saw it smoke. When he was finished, the foam didn't just creep up to the rim, it bubbled over in clumps, spreading out over the counter.

"Drink up!" The barkeep said in a thick accent, belting out another meaty chuckle. Alex swallowed. Another initiation. Shoving sanity aside temporarily, he lifted the glass of smoking spirits and gulped it down in one go, almost choking. While the initial sensation was amazingly vile and pungent, the resulting aftertaste was sharp and crisp, with a slight citrus taste. The barkeep looked back at the newcomer, giving him a small smile.

"Welcome to New Haven, friend." Alex grinned. Welcome indeed. He just might like it here after all.

edited 26th Jun '10 8:04:28 PM by KSPAM

" my advanced Kinitic Inhanced Arm Blaster" it's very powerful but it has a 15 minute recharge effect,it's a one shot ordeal "we have to kill them all at once "at the same time"!

"To Be Continued"

KSPAM: Nice. What the heck did he drink, anyway?

The Southern take on the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

edited 28th Jun '10 4:48:49 PM by KSPAM

I concur with pvtnum 11 above. Very nicely done, KSPAM. I feel like I've been in that bar, and I don't even drink!

@K*SPAM- like the warm atmosphere you established, and my story follows a fairly opposite path.

Gant shifted his hand along the rain-stained window of the boxcar, his head knocking against the seat; he cursed everything with a lethargy born of sorrow. What a distant cry from the warm camaraderie of his barracks. The fog slowly split as his slow fingers traced through it, drifting slowly, back to his side, their lines completed. And again, just seeing the darkness-shrouded land beyond brought a keening pain to him. He gasped in the unaccustomed jolt, raising a hand to his chest and doubling over. Heartsick, they called it- and what an apt title, Gant thought, shifting again. Suddenly, the seat to which he molded himself was unbearably wrong.

Somewhere, out there was Itou. Did she miss him? Was she sitting like he was, with a drink or book forgotten, remembering how they fought, back to back? The mechanical noise of his sigh echoed, coming back to haunt him again. If she remembered him now, if she still thought him a friend... Her scarred hands would be folded together, chin resting in her fingers as a few tears made their way down her cheeks. She'd cry quietly, looking past the window and whatever was past it, letting the light die down until she sat in the dark, not even shivering.

Gant didn't ever weep. But at that point, he wished he could simply embrace himself and cry himself to sleep. Just to sob, let that pain free him instead of holding it for mere dignity. And so he simply hugged himself, keeping away the chill of the open door, and settled back, crying in silence and stillness as the train rushed to its destination.

She stared out at the high rise buildings that were short halfway of touching the evening sky and hid the setting brilliance of the sun. Eventually it would be night, she knew, and the colourful hues that painted pink, orange and red around would be gone.

Shion stood at the edge of the patio balcony, with only the waist high fence to separate the boundaries of home and vast expansive world. Beneath she could hear the laughing of a whimsical card game. The oriental streets below had kids enjoying soccer with a basketball. It surprised her that the basketball could take this abuse for so long.

She had a calculus exam tomorrow. Crunching numbers through complex derivatives had little belonging in her mind that ran carefree and dreaming. She was born to run. But caged inside with the thought of another failure looming, Shion sighed. Her heart had a lonely hole that she sought to fill, if only for the moment before the sands run dry down the hourglass again.

The kids cheered and laughed as they scored a goal between lampposts. It did not matter that the ball was thrown by hand, that there was no referee to announce the breakage of rules — they were enjoying their fun as the busy world continued its course. It tickled that place in Shion's heart, tugged at it like a little kid beckoning to come play.

She decided to come down and join their game. When she asked if she could play, they let her assist the losing team. Together, they had the fun of their lives and the soccer game grew an enthused audience of passerbys, rivalling the crowds at the World Cup with Shion's playful enthusiasm in the mix.

When the sky grew dark and the lights turned on, Shion thanked them all for such the wonderful game, knowing she had to come back home and study.

Will they ever meet her again? they asked. To that, she said, who knows? with a shrug. And she left and went to her apartment where she slept in her bed with an appreciative smile.

edited 12th Sep '10 10:42:06 PM by QQQQQ