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Let's Write a Short Story Together

Updated on December 20, 2010


For those of you who might think I have forgotten about writing a story using the characters you donated to me, I assure you have not. Those wonderful characters are running around in my brain, some of them fermenting in the twisted pathways of my psyche, and hopefully getting ready to gel into a plot of some sort. My dilemma is this: I was given wonderful characters by my fellow hubbers and I need to treat them with the respect they deserve. But a wicked urge comes over me when I get ready to urge to write a funny story. Or at least what passes as funny for me. Which isn't everyone's cup of tea, I might add. So there is my question. Do I get serious about this story, or do I follow my temptation toward humor? I don't yet know the answer. But I am working on it.

In the meantime, I had an idea that we should all write a story together. The way it will work is this: I'll start, since it's my hub. And then everyone who wants to participate can continue the story in their comment. Each person who comments after that will continue it from the previous comment. I think it will be fun! Want to try? Put on your thinking caps and let's make up a great story. I can't wait to see the responses!

The beginning of the story

Grover shuffled toward the post office, a red envelope in one hand and his keys in the other. His wiry gray hair poked up haphazardly around his small round head, and his wire-rimmed spectacles were perched on the end of a somewhat bulbous nose. Stepping to one side, he held the door open for a lady to enter ahead of him.

Inside the red envelope was a money order for $50 and his fingernail clippings, carefully wrapped in a small square of plastic wrap and taped for good measure. This spell better work. I can't take much more. His hand trembled as he slid the letter into the slot.

Madame Jeruso had promised him she could stop his torment, guaranteed she could put a wall between him and the men who pursued him. He had no choice but to try it. The police had been no help at all, thinking him a daft old man in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's. Hell, the police couldn't even seem to see his persecutors, much less apprehend them.

Your turn

Okay. There you have it. Now, you take the story from that point, and let's see what happens!


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    • profile image

      Jadav Pegu 

      6 years ago

      Madame Jaruso pulled herself up. I can't let this 'dead' man arrest me, she told herself.

      "You are your own bloody enemy!" she shouted back, trembling and pumping up her chest. "I am going to destroy you!"

      Grover smiled crookedly.

      "I've waited eleven years to do this". Madame Jaruso walked up to Grover, shakily. She picked up the nurse's chair and swung it at Grover.

      The old man staggered, fell and relapsed into another coma, for good.

    • PJ Hawkinson profile image

      PJ Hawkinson 

      7 years ago

      Madame Jaruso gasped as the windows shattered outwards, seemingly fleeing the fabtabulous words that Grover was spouting. "What?" she faltered, not knowing what to say.

      "Cat got your tongue?" Grover sniggered.

      "Cat? I know not of a cat." She stared around in frank dismay as the walls shook and hum. "What is happening?"

      "I expect it is my enemies coming for me," Grover said in a flat voice. "Now is the time, Madame. Save me if you can. You have been paid and I have said not one, but several, words."

    • Docmo profile image

      Mohan Kumar 

      7 years ago from UK

      'Trisdekaphobia' said Grover, clearing his throat.

      'Pardonnez moi?', Madame Jaruso's poise slipped a tad and she fixed an a strand of hair that strayed had over her lineless forehead.

      'Sesquipedelian.' Grover continued, his voice sounding like someone had scraped a tin can over a granite wall.

      'I don't understand.' Madame Jaruso, chewed her cheery red lower lip.

      Grover's eyes narrowed as his voice grew croakier. His pupils dilated into large deep pools of ink and his breathing grew heavier.' Glossolalia.' he chanted in a sibilant whisper.

      Madame Jaruso slowly stood up and backed away from the bed, 'Monsieur Grover, are you alright?'

      As she leaned on the door and felt for the door handle, still facing him, the windows shattered in a shower of glass and a strange hum rose from the shaking walls.

      'Floccinaucinihilipilification! How's that for a word, Ma Cherie!' cackled Grover.

    • Christopher Price profile image

      Christopher Price 

      7 years ago from Vermont, USA

      "This is your vendetta Monsieur Grover", she purred. "The word shall be yours as well."

    • pinetreehugger profile image


      7 years ago from the far left hand side of the tropical rain forest, where no one else will dare go

      Glover then with great effort sat up in his hospital bed, took a small sip of ice water,and looked at her with a blank look on his tired old face, and whispered "what word?"

    • know one profile image

      know one 

      7 years ago from Australia

      But she was a stranger to him. All his dealings with Mme Jeruso were over the phone... the voice he vaguely recognised here and now - a slight French accent pulled out of a smoky nightclub - but the fog of the last wasted decade clouded his thought processes.

      She pulled out her scissors. He looked around wildly. "Time up? For who? Me?"

      "No, for your dark tormentors." She took out the red envelope from her bag. "Inflation has had a damaging affect on it's value, but I'm prepared to accept the $50 as previously agreed." She held up his fingers. The nails had grown considerably during his enforced rest, just as she had instructed the nursing staff. "And these will do the job even better."

      "Madame Jeruso?"

      She smiled a sultry smile, gratified that he was at last out of la la land. "It is she, at your service, again. Eleven years is a long time to wait, no?"

      "Eleven years?"

      "I will let the nursing staff explain." She proceeded to cut his fingernails, accumulating them in a small pile on the bed. She took the $50 out of the envelope and tucked it into the cup of her lacy black bra. She then removed the old nail clippings from the envelope, still kept safe in the plastic wrap. Into the bin they went. She placed all 10 newly cut talons in the red envelope.

      "I shall return when the moon has risen over the blood soaked ramparts of your tormentors."

      "You're going to kill them?"

      She stood up. "What did you think I was going to do? Pat them on the head and say have some warm milk and honey... No, Monsieur Grover. They deserve no such mercy."

      She straightened her pencil skirt and applied a fresh slick of Chanel gloss. "Monsieur, I just need you to say the word."

      to be continued...

    • goody7 profile image


      7 years ago from over there under the sycamore tree

      It was Madame Jeruso sitting in the chair on the side of his hospital room. She said "It's good to see you awake after all of this time". Glover looked at her dazed and said "Where am I?". Madame Jeruso carefully stopped to choose her words before telling him that "Time was up".

    • goody7 profile image


      7 years ago from over there under the sycamore tree

      So he started to walk faster and faster until he came upon an intersection. Grover quickly ran down a dark alley way to elude his followers. Once in the dark alley way he could hear a faint noise. He followed the sound to a dumpster, where he noticed a dim light coming from underneath the lid. His curiosity got the best of him, and he slowly opened the lid. He jumped back in fear from the sight that became clear to him now. Before he could run a dark shadowy figure stood up from inside the dumpster, and pointed a gun at Glover. Next a shot rang out which could be heard up at street level. Eleven long years passed by before Glover finally awoke from a comma. When he opened his eyes for the first time he saw that she was staring at him.

    • jdogg42 profile image


      7 years ago

      .....But little did Grover know he was once again being followed.


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