Standing Just Inside the Door

  • by jengirl with brown hair
  • People do.
  • no one knows where he went
  • “There are balloons.”
  • thinking it was kind of funny

Tune in next time part 207                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Standing just inside the door was a girl with brown hair and a bright orange pinkie on her left hand. That was a sign that she was a very high ranking Pinkie Swear, and also tough. She’d endured the agony of having her entire little finger tattooed a shade of orange too bright for most hunters to look upon. It’s hard to believe that anyone would voluntarily do that, but people do. People do.

“I can tell you’re not Jason,” she said, taking in my crocs, “but you’re probably looking for him. He was here about half an hour ago and no one knows where he went. We were preparing to celebrate his tattoo ritual,” she gestured around the black-lit room. “There are balloons.”

“Yes there are,” I agreed. The floor was knee deep with them, all glowing under the unnatural illumination.

I was thinking it was kind of funny that the Pinks expected Jason to pledge fealty, when for as long as I could remember he’d been more of a thumb wrestling kind of guy. Back at the Academy, he’d been thumb wrestling champion four years running.

If there’s one thing my association with my twin had taught me, it was that you should never trust a thumb wrestler. It takes a certain psychopathy to excel at the sport.

Had Jason’s foray in this group been benign? Was he merely studying this foreign faction the way Dian Fossey studied gorillas? Or had his mission been more sinister?

I looked around at all the fanciful balloons. What might Jason have hidden beneath their glowing childish joy?

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Juggling

Elsewhere’s Twin continues its sojourn in its chrysalis, preparing for its glorious emergence next month as a beautiful butterfly of prose.

Grandson of Science Novel is chugging along, approximately a quarter of the way to the first draft finish line.

Sibling of Music Novel, which is next in line for composition, is like a snowball rolling downhill, getting bigger and bigger, collecting more and more plot complications and character details. Soon we’ll have a full-blown avalanche of an outline on our hands.

We’ll talk more about each of those in the coming weeks. Mark your calendars!

Right now we’re splitting our time between writing, brainstorming, and research for a variety of projects. Our current research topics include brain structure, the history of the New York City skyline, cancer, the Mandela Effect, and birth videos. And there’s a TV show that touches on subjects somewhat similar to some things we’re working with, so we’re binging our way through that to make sure the similarities stay in the realm of “slight” and don’t require us to restructure anything. So far so good. And it totally counts as research. It’s not a distraction, honest!

Plus, of course, we’re keeping up with Twin Peaks. Our son comes home every week to watch with us. No, your family is weird.

Although The Size And Color

  • by Kent(except one, but she had chronic yeast infections, so there’s that)
  • six foot four and full of muscles
  • while intoxicated
  • with his face turned towards the wall
  • this female not only has a lewd mind

Tune in next time part 206                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Although the size and color of the glowing prints varied, I realized immediately what they had in common: they were all left little fingers. Which meant there was only one place this could be.

I had stumbled onto the headquarters of the Pinkie Swears. I hadn’t worked with them in years, but if anyone here still remembered me they could be just the ally I needed. As long as I could avoid any serious breaches of decorum.

All of the Pinks I ever rode with had terrible halitosis (except one, but she had chronic yeast infections, so there’s that) which it was forbidden to point out (especially to Gertrude, who was six foot four and full of muscles, and liked to wrestle while intoxicated). I wouldn’t have wanted to be just another chump who suffocated in her bed with his face turned towards the wall, but now I hoped she would be working the door tonight.

Passing under the canopy of fluorescent pinkie prints, I reached the entrance to the hideout. I knocked, and a slit opened.

“Password?”

I could smell that I was in the right place.

“Uh,” I stalled, “uh, this female not only has a lewd mind, she’s got a body to match.”

The door groaned open.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

I Climbed the Steps for What Felt Like Hours

  • by jen— like the ones upstairs!
  • awkward sex at your family’s house
  • knives in the back and everything
  • fluorescent fingerprint
  • try to put my eyes out

Tune in next time part 205                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

I climbed the steps for what felt like hours, wondering all the while where they would let out. Hopefully not in another dumpster. When I finally reached a landing, I paused to catch my breath. I had two choices: either continue my climb, or grope my way down a darkened corridor to the left. From above I heard a faint rustling and squeaking, while the hallway was silent. I chose the silence, not wanting to encounter any more rats — like the ones upstairs!

The passageway was narrow and unlit. I kept my hands on both walls and felt my way along slowly, probing each step with my feet before committing. It felt more than anything like having awkward sex at your family’s house when you’re a teenager and the Academy is closed for the winter holidays. My family makes it even more awkward than most, of course, what with all the alliances and treaties and double-crosses. We were ruthless. I’m talking knives in the back and everything.

I reached a T intersection and turned right. Suddenly I was dazzled by hundreds of fluorescent fingerprints all over the ceiling. After my dark journey they were so bright I had the urge to try to put my eyes out.

It’s a good thing I didn’t though, because of what those fingerprints signified.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Shifting Gears From Revision to Composition

Last time we gave you an update from the writing cave, we were deep into a revision pass on Elsewhere’s Twin. This week, Kent wrapped up his edits. Jen had crossed the finish line well ahead of him, as was the plan. That manuscript can now take a well-earned rest before its final read-through and polishing.

We’ve already returned our focus to writing. It’s sometimes tricky to get the brain back into writing mode after dwelling in revision-land for a while. (Yes, just the one brain. We share.) The road trip must have been just what we needed, though, because this time we seem to have hit the ground running with it. Grandson of Science Novel just crossed the 20k word mark. Woohoo!

Now to write some more.

“Thanks For Helping Me Out Of That Hole”

  • by Kentsheer skill is what’s needed
  • leaped nimbly away toward the females
  • can completely ruin your day
  • I wanted to kiss her and feel her breasts
  • carried it with me for a really long time

Tune in next time part 204                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Thanks for helping me out of that hole,” I said. “If you just direct me toward the surface, I’ll get out of your hair.” When pretending not to stare at your twin brother, sheer skill is what’s needed to avoid detection while you are, in fact, staring, trying to suss out his game.

“Simmer down there, Charlie,” Jason said. “First you have to explain yourself. What were you doing down there?”

I shrugged, to buy time to decide what I should tell them. But then I just enlarged the shrug, because it was the most honest response I could offer anyway. The men glanced at each other suspiciously. A quirked eyebrow, a small nod: they reached a decision about me without saying a word. Jason’s charade of not knowing me was disconcerting in its verisimilitude.

A door opened at the opposite end of their cavernous lair, admitting four women. It distracted the duo for just a second, but a second was more than I needed. I leaped nimbly away toward the females and the still-open doorway. Then I realized who they were.

Tallulah, Taylor, Tara, and Tanya.

A single moment of belated recognition can completely ruin your day. I really wished Tessa were there, too. I wanted to kiss her and feel her breasts on my chest. Not that we’d trade breasts, just that hers would be smushed up against mine.

Fortunately, I moved fast enough and the room was dim enough that the deadly quartet failed to spot me in time and I slipped through the door. I ran up and up the stairway I found on the other side, pausing only to remove Absinthia’s bulky underwear. I carried the pair of lacy shorts with me on my upward trek, carried it with me for a really long time.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

I Didn’t Want to Take the Proffered Hand

  • by jenget your hands out of your pockets
  • — or a lover
  • Are you two brothers?
  • notwithstanding the absurdity
  • Then things got worse.

Tune in next time part 203                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

I didn’t want to take the proffered hand until I knew to whom it belonged. For all I knew these clowns had jeweled daggers of their own and wanted to use them on me. I hauled myself higher.

“What the?” said the voice above me. “Are you climbing with your toes? It’d go a lot faster if you’d get your hands out of your pockets.”

There was something so familiar about the voice. Did it belong to an enemy — or a lover? I had so many of each, and many people qualified as both.

I finally did pull my hands from my pockets so that I could grab the floor where these mystery individuals stood and haul myself out of the shaft. I found myself face to face with my identical twin, Jason. Beside him stood a man I’d never seen before.

“Hey wow,” the stranger said. “Are you two brothers?” He elbowed Jason. “You never told me Charlie was your brother.”

“Never seen this guy before,” Jason said without his lisp.

“But he looks just like you!”

Things were looking up, notwithstanding the absurdity of pretending I didn’t see the resemblance between myself and my twin.

Then things got worse.

 

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Hit the Road, Jack

There’s a lot of music in our lives. We listen to it when we’re writing, editing, and plotting. Our sons are both omnivorous musicians, which means we’ve spent more than our fair share of time attending drum, guitar, bass, and piano lessons, marching band parades and football games, piano recitals, jazz band, concert band, symphonic band, and orchestra concerts, and battle of the bands. One son was in a metal band that had gigs at a local bar before he was 21, the other plays highly esoteric and experimental stuff, in addition to straight-up classical and jazz.

For as much as we like music, though, there unfortunately aren’t many local shows that interest us, which means that when there’s a band we want to see, we have to hit the road.

That’s just what we did earlier this week. We like to use the time in the car to brainstorm ideas, and this time we worked on fleshing out Sibling of Music Novel. It felt fitting to talk about music on the way to the concert, and on the way home we were flush with energy and insight. The drive was about six hours each way, so we had plenty of time to dig in on some details of world building and theme. Since this one is a sequel, you’d expect a lot of the world building to be done already, but we’re adding a new wrinkle which requires us to start from scratch for one of the settings. We’re talking “are the laws of physics the same here?” level stuff. There’s a lot to talk about.

Kent did all the driving, while Jen navigated, which is how we like to run things. It also means that it was up to Jen to take notes on our conversation. She used the voice recognition dealy on her phone, to quite amusing results. Our main character has a non-standard name, and in the notes it ended up being spelled at least four different ways. When we got to our hotel we had a good laugh over all the other kre8ive word choices as we transcribed the notes and expanded them.

We’ve been pretty deep into editing Elsewhere’s Twin, while also doing some writing on Grandson of Science Novel. It had been a long time since we devoted a lot of brainpower to plotting out a new story, and it felt really good. We came up with a lot of really fun stuff. Well, we think it’s fun. Our characters definitely won’t.

But back to the important thing, our concert experience: the venue was small and stuffy, there was unexpected moshing and crowd-surfing, the opening act was pretty good, and the headliners — Royal Blood — were phenomenal. We were only about 10 feet from the stage. We both got caught up totally in the music, which is just how it should be, and which is a feeling we want to be able to capture in our Music novels. The sweat, the flailing limbs, the thump and roar, the smell of the smoke machine, all of it will hopefully make it onto the page.

The evening was topped off with the surreal discovery that the building across the street from our hotel burned down while we were at the show. That unsettling feeling might make it into the novel, too, but mostly we want to just relive the excitement of a really good rock show.

There Is A Trick

  • by Kentbetween the second and third toes
  • coated with motor oil
  • “That’s Charlie.”
  • sprang upon me with a jeweled dagger
  • please take my hand

Tune in next time part 202                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

There is a trick to climbing up a metal pole. There are probably many tricks, but the one they taught me at the Academy consisted of a special way to grasp it between the second and third toes, which hurt like hell and meant, usually, carrying your shoes and socks in your mouth. This time that trick was no help anyway, because this pole was coated with motor oil.

I could still hear the pillow talk of Jim and the one-legged woman, but could no longer discern their actual words. However, a new voice from the darkness overhead came through clearly.

“Someone opened the lower panel,” the voice said.

“That’s Charlie.”

“You ain’t even looked. And it ain’t Charlie, I promise you.”

“Who else could it be?”

“Come look, and then you tell me.”

“Hey,” I called softly, “can you help me?” I had no reason to trust them, whoever they were, but they already knew about me so I really had no choice.

“Charlie!” the second voice cried.

“Sure,” I said. “Pull me up?”

“I told you,” the voice went on. “You think I’d forget the face of a man who thrice sprang upon me with a jeweled dagger? You think so? Well, I tell you, I would not.”

“Maybe we ain’t talking about the same Charlie.”

“Could be we’re not. Very likely, in fact.”

A rope reached down from the blackness, swaying and waving as if sniffing around for me. When it came within reach I started to climb. There were few people upon whom I had ever sprung with a jeweled dagger, and most of them only once. I had used numerous aliases over the years, too many to keep them all straight, but I didn’t recall ever telling anybody my name was Charlie. The puzzle pieces didn’t all fit, but I had a feeling I was going to recognize the owner of at least one of these voices.

I hauled myself up the rope in darkness until one of those voices said, “Here, please take my hand.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

If I Went Back the Way I’d Come

  • by jensitting there, all puckered up
  • there was this guy there
  • surreptitiously unbutton the top of your shirt
  • It was implied.
  • “Truly.”

Tune in next time part 201                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

If I went back the way I’d come I’d end up in the rocket surgery with Jim, the Professor’s girlfriend, and the remains of poor Absinthia. I hated the thought of seeing her sitting there, all puckered up and bloody, so I began to search for another exit. There were no other visible doors, but perhaps there was a hidden passageway. I ran my hands along the walls, feeling for seams, and eavesdropping on Jim’s conversation.

“But who was that guy?” asked a feminine voice, probably the Professor’s one-legged girlfriend.

“What guy?” drawled Jim.

“When I got here with the ransom note, there was this guy there with your sisters!” the woman said. “I saw him!”

“I didn’t see a guy,” Jim lied. Whatever his reasons for lying, he was doing me a favor. I kept up my search. Maybe he was in on the Professor’s kidnapping.

“Don’t you surreptitiously unbutton the top of your shirt at me, Jim,” the woman said. “I’m not going to be distracted by your muscles and all of your sexy chest hair. You can’t seduce your way out of this one.”

“Who says I’m trying to seduce you?” Jim purred.

“It was implied. By the striptease. And by the way you’ve got your hands on my hips now.” She sounded distracted.

“I’d never use sex as a distraction,” Jim said. “Truly.”

I heard kissing noises.

Just then my fingers found a hidden button near the top of the wall, which, when pressed, caused a panel to slide open, revealing a fire pole. The problem was I was standing at the base of it. I peered up into the darkness above, trying to gauge how high it was and whether I had the strength to climb it.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!