Shorter Stories #1

On the evening of Saturday the 26th of May, myself, Matt and Chris pioneered an idea for a new writing game. It involves everyone writing a short story in 8 - 10mins in one of my many 5c notebooks, with each story including a particular character/setting/object/action/line as decided before writing (each person selects one of these things beforehand). 

These were the conditions for the first round:

I picked Fisherman, Chris picked River, Matt picked Kite and Matt and Chris picked the last sentence while I was in the toilet.

Here are the resulting stories. I have copied them onto the computer with no alterations except for a few minor grammatical edits. NJOY!!


The river beckoned. If it was a person it would have been like Santa Claus but without the outfit. Large, warm, inviting. Naked.
Wilson stared. He could not remove his eyes from the rapids. But no! He had so much work to do. Screeds and screeds of work; a tower to the sky of work. However, it was a splendid afternoon so today the work would have to wait. Today, Wilson was determined to fish.
Casting his line out to the water, Wilson stared (again). His line would not arch like it usually did. Instead, gravity seemed to have abandoned the very object. It was soaring into the sky, an absurd hooked kite! Carrying Wilson with it. He had always dreamed to fly. Away from pesky phonecalls and the morning slog. No more work, only the stars and clouds. To fish from a distant galaxy. As he sped towards the sun and an inevitable lack of oxygen, Wilson was content. No more work.
It was a long journey. At last, he closed his eyes and whispered to himself “and so it was and forever will be.”
Regan


It’s not every day that you meet a fisherman and even less that he is a kite fisherman. Ok, so you might be thinking “kite fisherman? That sounds terribly impractical and at best just down right unhelpful” and you my friend would be bang on the money. Kite fishing is outlawed in 13 of 50 of the states as it is just such a huge waste of time.
Now back to the kite fisherman I met. He was 6’12” and had a face like a rack of lamb. You might think there would be something a bit fishy about him, I mean there has to be something not quite right up top to fish with a kite, but there isn’t he’s not fishy at all due to him not catching a single fish. He goes down to this old dried up sewer drain, which I guess you could call a river, attaches a worm to his kite and sets it free to chase after the illusive sky fish. Yep he is after birds. And one day you know what? He got one, the biggest sky fish you or I will have seen and at last he closed his eyes and whispered to himself, “and so it was and forever will be.”
Matt


Henry had a serious knack for finding the perfect spot. His expertise and unparalleled mastery made him a local legend.
He would lick his finger and lift it toward the wind. This was his first step for locating the hot spots. He would paddle his canoe in the direction of the winds with the taste of anticipation seeping into his saliva.
He ensured he was following the wind with his trusty brown and yellow striped kite which he proudly hoisted high above the towering willows, triumphantly reaching toward the heavens.
He knew how to have the fish at his mercy. He licked his lips and plunged the rod beneath the water’s surface.
Suddenly he was paralysed and overbalanced, his elderly frame splashing into the river.
His lungs filled with water and his vision clouded over with darkness. At last, he closed his eyes and whispered to himself, “and so it was and forever will be.”
Chris




Other rounds here!!