Sunday, October 20, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
Tonight, at the plot bunny buffet
I had an idea today, and you can steal it for your plot bunny...
I’ll tell you the idea as I had it, you can abuse it any way you like.
A man wakes up in a hotel.
He doesn’t know how to get to the hotel, or why he’s there.
He went to bed last night, woke up in a hotel this morning.
He is wearing pajamas that are not his own, but they fit well.
By context (TV, newspaper, or looking out a window) he concludes that he is in Paris.
That Paris, the one in France.
There are clothes in the closet, very good clothes that fit him.
He has a wallet with about five thousand Euros in it and four major credit cards in his name.
He has a drivers’ license and a passport.
There is also a cell phone that rings.
The man answers the phone and is informed that if he goes to Brussels, someone will give him a case and if he takes the case to Frankfurt, someone else will pay him ten million dollars.
This then begins a race to Belgium, and then Germany.
Our hero is not a member of the SAS, he isn’t a former Navy Seal, he’s a normal, everyday guy.
On his way to Belgium, our hero is nearly mugged, and someone approaches him to make an offer that they’ll give him twenty thousand dollars to just give this up.
No one tells him what’s in the case and warns that it’s probably booby trapped to stop anyone tampering with it.
He gets an accomplice/bodyguard in Brussels who helps him on the rest of the journey. The other person (it should probably be a woman because of tropes) doesn’t know what’s in the case or why they want it any more than our hero.
The two of them then adventure their way to Germany, after basically being in a coldwar spy thriller from the late 70s/early 80s.
And now, the spoiler (don’t read if you don’t want my spoiler)
I’ll tell you the idea as I had it, you can abuse it any way you like.
A man wakes up in a hotel.
He doesn’t know how to get to the hotel, or why he’s there.
He went to bed last night, woke up in a hotel this morning.
He is wearing pajamas that are not his own, but they fit well.
By context (TV, newspaper, or looking out a window) he concludes that he is in Paris.
That Paris, the one in France.
There are clothes in the closet, very good clothes that fit him.
He has a wallet with about five thousand Euros in it and four major credit cards in his name.
He has a drivers’ license and a passport.
There is also a cell phone that rings.
The man answers the phone and is informed that if he goes to Brussels, someone will give him a case and if he takes the case to Frankfurt, someone else will pay him ten million dollars.
This then begins a race to Belgium, and then Germany.
Our hero is not a member of the SAS, he isn’t a former Navy Seal, he’s a normal, everyday guy.
On his way to Belgium, our hero is nearly mugged, and someone approaches him to make an offer that they’ll give him twenty thousand dollars to just give this up.
No one tells him what’s in the case and warns that it’s probably booby trapped to stop anyone tampering with it.
He gets an accomplice/bodyguard in Brussels who helps him on the rest of the journey. The other person (it should probably be a woman because of tropes) doesn’t know what’s in the case or why they want it any more than our hero.
The two of them then adventure their way to Germany, after basically being in a coldwar spy thriller from the late 70s/early 80s.
And now, the spoiler (don’t read if you don’t want my spoiler)
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Twins in Death: Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
The First Battle of Central Park
October 31st, 2002
12:04 a.m.
New York
Kestrel sat alone in the ballroom, looking out the windows. There were such large windows and they gave such a beautiful view of the night sky. The dark and heavy clouds covered the night sky, but they were beautiful clouds. The wind had begun to pick up and the leaves were sailing by. They tumbled along, like the little happy things they had once been. Now they were dead of course, which was a bit of a sobering thought. Those had once been attached to a living tree, in order to help make food. When the season got too cold, and the leaves were too expensive in terms of water and warmth, they had to go. The tree could only survive by getting rid of the leaves. That which had formally been so vital to its life could cause its demise, so the leaves had to go.
She wondered for a moment if that’s what they all were. Were they just leaves, drying up on the stem of the world? She was alone and trying to figure out where the hell she was going to go next. The problem was she felt like she might be drying up, like those leaves. She had felt it for so long and wondered if it was time for her to be blown off the life tree and become mulch for next year’s plants?
She thought, if only there was some sort of sign that everything would be all right.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Monday, October 14, 2013
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