This may actually belong in the Hubber's Hangout section, but it's also creative writing as a Forum game.
Here are the rules:
This is a fictional story, developed within this forum, by a collaboration of anyone who wishes to participate.
Each person posting has to finish the unfinished sentence left by the previous poster, add 1-4 new sentences, then conclude with a partial sentence which will be completed by the next poster.
Follow the plot line as it develops.
This is not intended to be a Forum version of Mad Libs or a similar form of silliness and rudeness, just a fun way to create a story.
The next post will be the first of the story.
The scent of pine teased her senses, as Philomena scrambled back up the riverbank.
She was shivering and dripping wet, and she had no idea how she had come to be there.
Her last memory was the headlight of....
scratching her legs and arms quite badly.
Recovering her balance, she watched as the white car
Careened to a stop. Angry but also frightened she hid in the undergrowth waiting to see what the driver would do.
Up the road a bit the drivers side door of the white BMW slowly opened. From her hiding place Philomena could see..
the figure of a tall, muscular male stepping out onto the pavement. Philomena tried to brush the grass away from her....
jeans, but the tangled undergrowth limited her movement. Along the side of her leg she could see rips in the denim and scratches that must have come about when she tumbled into the river. Whatever had happened to cause that?
"Hello?" she heard. The most mellifluous voice was heading her way, transported by a rugged frame and ....
muscular arms that glistened from the light of the moon. Cautiously he walked through the brush...
swinging the beam of his flashlight from side to side to reveal spaces the moonlight could not reach. “Is anyone there? Do you need help?”
Philomena hesitated. Yes, she did need help; yes, she certainly was there. But in view of the last three hours
….would it be safer to be silent? Here she was, miles from anywhere and if she were in danger, she could scream her lungs out and no one would hear. Except the pines that stood tall and dark and unmoving, as though waiting for something to happen. She could feel her breath coming quicker as…
the stranger walked nearer to her hiding place.
Her thoughts began to clear. She knew that the microfilm had been stolen....And whatever had possessed Barron to use microfilm in the first place; didn't he realize they were living in the 21st century now? Would his sentimentality, or whatever had prompted his action, compromise the entire mission?
She shifted her attention back to the problem at hand: how to respond to her would-be rescuer without
alerting him to her tenuous situation. The stranger loomed larger now as she began to gain her composure. "Hello," she called, "I certainly hope you know your way around here." Her attempts at frivolity were
greeted with an awkward silence.
After a tense moment, the stranger spoke. "I really wasn't certain that I was not hallucinating," he said. "I saw some movement in the headlights and just wanted to check things out. What is the situation here - do you need a ride?"
She took a deep breath and
accepted the man's invitation, pausing to consider his role in the microfilm theft. Barron had made an unforgivable error and it was up to her to retrieve the outdated evidence.
Perhaps the film was to be found in his car-she would find it, no doubt about that.
Philomena reached out and took his...
She resolved herself to follow through and see what this man might be up too but fear nagged at her mind, causing a shiver to course unchecked down her spine.
"You are cold?" the unknown driver asked as he helped her..
struggle to her feet.
How much should I tell him? she wondered. How much do I actually know?
Grimly she forced herself to admit that there was a gap in her memory between the time she had been dropped off here, seemingly miles from civilization, and the moment when she had dragged herself out of the river.
But here, now, in front of her stood a gorgeous man, holding her hands, surveying her with tender concern, and obviously hiding...
a few secrets. Cautiously she looked deep into his eyes, wondering what was happening inside of his mind. "Are you ok.," he replied. Head spinning she felt a little dizzy and could not seem to keep her balance.....
by Maddie Ruud6 years ago
Just a quick heads up that there's something new and fun going on, now 'til June 15th, headed up by our very own lmmartin. If you're familiar with the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, you'll know how much fun this...
by Arachnea2 years ago
Wiki's blurb:"It was a dark and stormy night" is an often-mocked and parodied phrase written by English novelist Edward Bulwer-Lytton in the opening sentence of his 1830 novel Paul Clifford. The phrase...
by Arachnea2 years ago
I loved the flash fiction thing for the Inner Writer Study. I was thinking it would be fun to do a thread to which folks can post their resulting short stories (flash fiction to 500 words) in response to a monthly or by...
by SpanStar6 years ago
How do you get back to where you submit a line for an opening? Thank you
Copyright © 2016 HubPages Inc. and respective owners.
Other product and company names shown may be trademarks of their respective owners.
HubPages® is a registered Service Mark of HubPages, Inc.
HubPages and Hubbers (authors) may earn revenue on this page based on affiliate relationships and advertisements with partners including Amazon, Google, and others.