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Build a story...let's try again...
291fifth
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The following is the berginning of a story I have written (except that I have changed the name of the main character.) Add a short paragraph. Let's see what happens. This is a good writing exercise...let's try and keep it serious! Feel free to use dialogue and introduce other characters.
Octavius pushed his cart into the cavernous Orlando Convention Center. He wasn't happy with his table assignment,#958, located at the rear of the room and well away from the main entrance. Octavius had no basis for complaint, as he wasn't a show regular, not having set up for the past three years, but it took little to get him into a foul mood.
Arriving at his assigned table, Octavius quickly filled the cases with his coins and began the ritual of looking for "deals," both buying and selling, among the other dealers at the show. Octavius arrived back at his table in an even more foul mood. The lack of fresh material on the bourse floor kept his dealing to a minimum. He hadn't even made enough to cover the table fee, let alone his travel expenses.
Next to Octavius was a table alloted to Brutus Dixon Paper Money of Muncie, Indiana. Brutus was about the same age as Octavius and just as badly overweight. Another dealer, Jock Mapplethorpe, who wasn't well known on the circuit, was seated at Brutus' table, eating potato chips while examining each of Brutus' notes. Suddenly, Brutus' face grew flushed as he looked at the notes Jock had examined.
"You just put greasy fingerprints on all of the notes you looked at! You just bought six thousand dollars worth of currency," Brutus said.
"I didn't do that, those marks were already on the notes," said Jock.
Brutus picked up the stack of notes and waved them in Jock's face.
"If you don't make good on these notes I'll see to it that you never set foot in a major show again," said Brutus.
"I don't need to take any guff from you," said Jock as he rose from his chair and began to walk away.
Brutus, now beet red, stammered and suddenly fell onto the table, knocking it over and sending display cases and the currency in them all over the floor. Still clutching the six thousand dollars in damaged notes, Brutus hit the currency covered concrete floor and lay motionless. He had done his last deal.
Octavius looked down at Brutus as the EMS crew loaded him onto a gurney for a perfunctory trip to the hospital where he would be declared dead of a stroke. Brutus was still tightly clutching the notes with the greasy fingerprints. He wouldn't give them up even in death.
Show officials quickly gathered up Brutus' remaining stock and moved it to the security room. Since it was too late to find a replacement dealer, the table would remain empty for the remainer of the show. After the show officials had left, Octavius moved some of his bulkier material to the now empty table.
It turned out to be a great show for Octavius. The extra selling space had allowed him to show and sell more "product." Still. Octavius felt an uncharacteristic uneasiness. He thought about just how quickly Brutus has passed from this world and couldn't get the image of him clutching the greasy notes out of his mind.
Octavius pushed his cart into the cavernous Orlando Convention Center. He wasn't happy with his table assignment,#958, located at the rear of the room and well away from the main entrance. Octavius had no basis for complaint, as he wasn't a show regular, not having set up for the past three years, but it took little to get him into a foul mood.
Arriving at his assigned table, Octavius quickly filled the cases with his coins and began the ritual of looking for "deals," both buying and selling, among the other dealers at the show. Octavius arrived back at his table in an even more foul mood. The lack of fresh material on the bourse floor kept his dealing to a minimum. He hadn't even made enough to cover the table fee, let alone his travel expenses.
Next to Octavius was a table alloted to Brutus Dixon Paper Money of Muncie, Indiana. Brutus was about the same age as Octavius and just as badly overweight. Another dealer, Jock Mapplethorpe, who wasn't well known on the circuit, was seated at Brutus' table, eating potato chips while examining each of Brutus' notes. Suddenly, Brutus' face grew flushed as he looked at the notes Jock had examined.
"You just put greasy fingerprints on all of the notes you looked at! You just bought six thousand dollars worth of currency," Brutus said.
"I didn't do that, those marks were already on the notes," said Jock.
Brutus picked up the stack of notes and waved them in Jock's face.
"If you don't make good on these notes I'll see to it that you never set foot in a major show again," said Brutus.
"I don't need to take any guff from you," said Jock as he rose from his chair and began to walk away.
Brutus, now beet red, stammered and suddenly fell onto the table, knocking it over and sending display cases and the currency in them all over the floor. Still clutching the six thousand dollars in damaged notes, Brutus hit the currency covered concrete floor and lay motionless. He had done his last deal.
Octavius looked down at Brutus as the EMS crew loaded him onto a gurney for a perfunctory trip to the hospital where he would be declared dead of a stroke. Brutus was still tightly clutching the notes with the greasy fingerprints. He wouldn't give them up even in death.
Show officials quickly gathered up Brutus' remaining stock and moved it to the security room. Since it was too late to find a replacement dealer, the table would remain empty for the remainer of the show. After the show officials had left, Octavius moved some of his bulkier material to the now empty table.
It turned out to be a great show for Octavius. The extra selling space had allowed him to show and sell more "product." Still. Octavius felt an uncharacteristic uneasiness. He thought about just how quickly Brutus has passed from this world and couldn't get the image of him clutching the greasy notes out of his mind.
All glory is fleeting.
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The End.
Self Indulgence | Holey Coins | Flickr Photostream
E Tu Brutus !
Suddenly, Octavious jerked awake and sat up in bed. No, the bar hadn't burned down and he wasn't dead, but who was this red-headed stranger lying next to him?? He recalled the hosebag he was talking to just before his memory fades..................WOWZER!!!!! "I think I need another drink!!" thought Octavious to himself. He slowly slipped out of bed and hurriedly dressed, hoping for only two things; that he didn't wake up Myrna and that the hotel bar was still open........................
<< <i>..he stumbled into the bar again and sauntered up to a pair of coin collectors and started talking about Morgan VAM's - With a horrified look in their eyes, they killed him. >>
And then set the building ablaze while they sat at the bar, sipping Guinness, while the flames engulfed them. A horrible fire it was that they all died in.
The End.
Self Indulgence | Holey Coins | Flickr Photostream
<< <i>And then set the building ablaze while they sat at the bar, sipping Guinness, while the flames engulfed them. A horrible fire it was that they all died in >>
Death while drinking Guinness...Brilliant!
<< <i>So Octavius stumbled to the bar, which them was lit ablaze, and he died in a fire.
The End. >>
I gotta say thiggy.... you make me laugh incredibly hard, lately.
``https://ebay.us/m/KxolR5
And thigpen, what is with this facination you have with burning people up in fires?
<< <i>So much for "keep it serious".
And thigpen, what is with this facination you have with burning people up in fires? >>
The better question would be how do you not have a fastination with people incinerating themselves?
Self Indulgence | Holey Coins | Flickr Photostream
hi, i'm tom.
i do not doctor coins like some who post in here.
<< <i>Abandon hope all ye who enter here. >>
You have incredible skills, my friend.
I rather enjoyed the story, too. Of course, it would be difficult to continue a story when you started it and ended it
Now, let's say you started the thread with : "Build a story....let's try again....
On a warm , humid morning, Octavius trips into the convention hall, lugging behind his FLYER™ red wagon with peanut butter jars full of greasy, grimey, brown wheat cents. His tennis shoes untied, zipper down, and hairy belly hanging out of his pizza stained, off white and wrinkled T- shirt. The smell of Pabst Blue Ribbon emanating from the pores of his dry , sun soaked skin.
He happens upon a fair maiden of honor who was a legend in her own right.... the Mighty Miss Lorax...a distant cousin to Ajax™ but no friend of Kojac's.
STOP ...
Add a short paragraph. Let's see what happens. This is a good writing exercise...let's try and keep it serious! Feel free to use dialogue and introduce other characters. (how can it be serious ?)
Let's just set the scene, or introduce a character.......... you said: "Add a short paragraph"... How about leading it by example ?
Don't give up hope or be disheartened .... you've got talent ! Now that we know your original story, build another with less information for starters..... there is death and everything around us in the original, if you catch my drift, mate.
it was an excellent ending Thigman..... I give you that. Certain motifs used to establish moods, suspense, irony, and a climactic finale made it a blockbuster, for sure.....
when is the movie coming out
Now the word SERIOUS has some special significance in the thread, huh ?
``https://ebay.us/m/KxolR5
Let's get Octavius out of the bar and continue to build on his state of mind. He is out of shape and has just watched another dealer drop dead with a stack of greasy notes in his hand. He is alone, as always, and is now going to his car in the parking lot. What awaits him? This story has a long way to go.
Let those creative juices flow...
<< <i>The better question would be how do you not have a fastination with people incinerating themselves? >>
I don't know why I don't. For some reason the big thing with me is having them eaten alive.