You may have noticed I changed the name of the blog. (Thanks Steff for the suggestion!) I figured I may attract more readers this way. Mostly people looking for a recipe for fried crickets. But maybe a few low maintenance folks who don't need a whole lot from a blog like regular posts, or interesting stories. So stick around if you've made it this far! You can consider yourself unique, adventurous, and glutton for punishment!
One of the things I wanted to do with this blog was practice writing fiction stories. But just reading witty engaging prose isn't enough for my loyal readers (both of you)! No, you need to participate! In the spirit of the Choose Your Own Adventure books that I LOVED as a kid, I want my stories to be Vote for Your Own Adventure* - y'all pick the direction the story goes (No back tracking or alternate ending. What you choose is what you get. Unless I decide to overrule the vote and turn communist.) Even what kind of story you'd like to hear. So here are your choices:
A. Romance - Angela gazed into Malcom's deep brown eyes. She could see the sunset reflected in his dark limpid pools. As she melted into his arms, his kiss, she sighed the deep contented sigh of a woman truly loved.
B. Suspense/Mystery- Greg Bernard lifted Melissa, his 5 year old daughter, into his arms, and held her close. He breathed her warm sent in, memorizing her smell. He noticed that she smelled different now than when she was just an infant. Less baby powder, more girl. He carried her to her room, and tucked her into bed. His gaze lingered on her brown curls, and her eyelashes, and finally her mouth. She looked almost exactly like her mother. The thought of Angela still struck him right to the heart. Three years ago she had been murdered by a man he arrested- James Calvin. Even though Calvin had taken away Greg's wife and part of his heart, he still hated Bernard. At the trial he swore that vengeance was not done, and that he would see to it Bernard would join his wife.
Exactly one hour ago James Calvin escaped from prison. Forty five minutes ago Greg set his alarm system and loaded his gun. Thirty minutes ago Calvin crossed the railroad tracks and walked into town. Fifteen minutes later Bernard turned on Melissa's night light, then left her door cracked open as he made his way to the den. Exactly five minutes ago his house went dark, simultaneously the alarm system went off. One minute ago he heard Melissa scream over the wail of the siren.
C. Western - (modern western)
"Reckon she'll live?"
"I've seen worse survive. But it's all about her spirit. If her spirit's broke, don't nothing you do or don't do matter."
The men gazed at the foal who they had just cut out of her mother's stomach. She was a deep sorrel with a white star on her forehead. Her mother had bled out and died during the birth. Not a great way to start life, losing your momma right off. Her surrogate mother did not like her, but the old mare tolerated her. This awful excuse for a filly was not her child. But her child had died one day ago and she knew he wasn't coming back. At least this thing could alleviate the pain in her stretched bag.
Let me know which one you want!
*I don't believe this is copyright infringement as the stories themselves are my original work. Only the idea of voting is borrowed - and if voting for what you want is copyrighted then the whole country is in trouble.