Written for Richie Billing’s Two Sentence Story Prompts for The Fantasy Writer’s Toolshed newsletter. Can’t say enough about this fantasy writer who is super generous and helpful to budding writers.
Genre: A Cowboy Story
A Cramp for A Win!
Seth contorted his shoulder to reach that agonizing spot on his calf, which he was determined to keep pressed against the flank of the bucking bronco. The move didn’t do a thing to ease his cramp, but damn, if his inflexible leg didn’t just do the trick to keep him seated on the back of the snorting beast for that extra three seconds!
Genre: First Contact / Alien Encounter.
Did She Just Say That?
A vision materialized in the antechamber, zeroed in on me, probably because I was the only one holding a clipboard, and demanded, “Take me to your leader.” No way did that blue-skinned beauty just utter those B-movie words I thought, even as I turned to walk towards the Oval Office, propelled by some mysterious force.
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Saving Her Distraction
The elf princess’s long legs ate up the distance, bow raised, arrow nocked, hair billowing around her head in aqua ribbons, electric green eyes fixed on her target. She was pleased to see the cagey goblin, who knew well her deadly aim, freeze in his tracks at the mouth of the Cyrian Cave as she bore down on him and called out to the trussed-up human she’d come to adore, despite his inability to stay out of trouble, “You nearly did it to me this time, my love, leaving me to spend another thousand years looking for one like you who drives me so satisfyingly to distraction.”
Genre: Crime Story
Lovely Burnt Bone
Detective Armstrong knelt by the destroyed boathouse, sifting through Julia’s scorched remains, then plucked up a fragment of her jawbone while she hovered over the scene of her death and watched with ghostly eyes. Finally, she thought, as he called out, “Would you be so good, Reginald, as to process this lovely piece of dental work I will refer to from here on as our smoking gun.”
Genre: Thriller
Mom’s Sacrifice
She crouched under the bridge while her terror dissipated and listened for the scraping sound his game leg made as it dragged along the asphalt, signaling her mother’s murderer was nearing their trap, and their plan was working. Step… thump… step… thump… step… thump… then a hitched breath, a swish of metal slicing through the air, and a quiet splat as the hated head dropped into a vat of acid.
Genre: Nautical Adventure
Due East
Storm clouds roiled across the horizon, while the setting sun pierced the ominous gloom with its brilliant orange rays. Captain Scott made his navigational calculations and called out orders to adjust the Helene’s course due east, even as he dreamed about the fabled gold ahead, and gloated over the bloody destruction he left behind, which had finally eliminated the competition.
Genre: Fairytale
Sad Swallow
In a voice that plucked at her heart strings, the dear swallow lamented, “All winter we exchanged stories, my beautiful Thumbelina, and it made my heart soar. When you climbed upon my back and begged me to take you to my favorite far away land, how could I have known my happy dream would end with you forsaking me for another?”
I’m not claiming by any stretch that these are great stories, but I did give them my best shot, and Richie guaranteed submission for any and all efforts by his followers. I missed the deadline for Sad Swallow, so Richie added it to his next newsletter. He’s awesome… and a great writer!
Two brothers get swept into the Coral Sea by a wave to end all waves, but they have their surfboards and ride them out. Then, a giant, golden fruit bobs up on the horizon, carrying a motley crew of survivors and promising the strangest of rides.
~~~
Carter passed the binoculars to his brother as the two leaned against the railing at the top of the giant pineapple. The fiberglass fruit hadn’t originally been a houseboat, but it made a damn good one after being swept into the sea by the tsunami that devastated eastern Queensland. Before that, it served for decades as a popular photo-op entrance to a zoo.
“Still no sign of life in any direction.”
The dire report came with Flynn’s unflagging optimism, making Carter marvel and shake his head before responding.
“Miro thinks we’re mostly drifting in circles but says there’s a possibility we’re inching towards New Caledonia. What do you think?”
Flynn lowered the glasses. “If anyone has a clue, it’s Miro. He can read the sky. Going in circles isn’t good.”
“I know. Rations are thinning… like, to nothing, but us starving is not what worries me.”
Flynn chuckled, nudging his brother. “You still haven’t made friends with Bunji and Dainen?”
“It’s not a matter of making friends. What do you think the tigers will do when they get hungrier? Even to me, you look like a juicy steak.” Flynn laughed harder, lifting Carter’s spirits as always.
Nothing could shake his brother’s sense of adventure. It’s what kept them alive long enough to come across this absurd sanctuary.
The brothers were camping on Rainbow Beach when disaster struck across what turned out to be an unbelievable swath through Oceana. They survived the monster wave, the one everyone talked about but didn’t believe would come, only because they were excellent surfers.
They saw the huge swell on the horizon before it grew so massive, it blocked out the sun, and they grabbed their boards and prayed. Thanks to Flynn having snatched up his bugout bag with a flare gun and firing a shot, they managed to find each other again, though it took them half a day to reunite and lash their boards together. That had been a crazy, happy time.
After that miracle, they drifted for days as if they were the only two beings on the planet. On the night before their next miracle, the starry heavens had lulled Carter into philosophical dreams, and he’d given himself up to the big sleep when his brother’s hopeful voice penetrated his resignation.
“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
With an effort, Carter lifted his head towards the horizon and spotted through hazy eyes something that gave him a needed jolt. “Is that a pineapple?”
“It’s a BLOOMIN pineapple! And there are people on it, waving like mad. We’re saved, Carter, by a giant symbol of hospitality.”
The next surge rolled them close enough to paddle alongside the marvelous fruit, where helpful hands pulled them onto the lacquered rind. There, they lay on their backs and smiled into friendly faces, blocking out the morning rays.
When two massive furry heads nudged their way into the greeting, the brothers kept smiling. Why wouldn’t there be tigers on a floating pineapple?
Miro popped out of the makeshift hatch, returning Carter to the present when he demonstrated his uncanny hearing.
“Oi! You knocking my babies, mates?”
Bridie popped up next to him, her freckled face splitting into a grin. “I thought you blokes knew better.”
Thunderous growls followed. The cats’ offering their own indignant comments.
Carter grinned at the zookeeper who’d raised the orphaned beasts and the teenage girl who was the first to hitch a ride with him on this giant fruit, bobbing its way to… anywhere.
###
Five days later, Carter was in a staring match with Bunji. Was the cat drooling? He’d been sure that by now, he and Flynn would have been heaps of bones scraped clean and bleaching under the sun.
They were all starving. Nothing in the way of food had made an appearance in days, no matter how hard they searched. Even Miro, with his uncanny abilities, had been unsuccessful.
Purrs erupted from the massive cat as it plopped onto its haunches and lifted a hefty paw to lick it. Dainen draped himself beside his brother, joining him in a thorough grooming. Narrowing his eyes at the languid felines, Carter couldn’t decide whether to be amused or wary.
The longer he watched them, the more somber he got. Their predatory instincts could trigger without warning in an instant. Would they eat them all at once or spread them out over time? He jolted when the cats rose together in a baffling show of alertness. Then, he felt it.
Carter peeked over the rind at Miro, who was dangling a gull wing over the water. “Um… Miro, why is this pineapple bobbing like a giant version of your lure?” He was already queasy with the jerky motion.
The pineapple dipped again, drastically enough for Miro to grip onto the tiled surface.
“Come, boys! Inside.” Miro waved at his cats and Carter, and one by one, they shimmied down the hatch.
Flynn and Bridie were sitting cross-legged on their sleeping pallets, playing poker with homemade cards, which were actually more feathers from the gull Miro had managed to snare and prepare raw for them. The memory of choking that down made Carter’s stomach roil even more.
Bridie laid down her hand, calling out smugly, “Full house.” She gasped when the pineapple lurched again.
The rocking became so violent that Carter was thrown to the floor and couldn’t stop himself from rolling into Bridie, who was crouched on all fours, trying to hang on. They tangled up together and crashed into the wall.
Flynn slammed into them before their home tilted in the opposite direction, sending them all rolling to the other side. The tigers leapt around them, finding purchase at each tumbling motion, like hamsters on a wheel. Miro, as nimble as the cats, managed to stay upright until he could grab onto the ladder under the hatch.
By the fifth tilt, Carter was sure he was going to be sick. But the motion slowed, then halted altogether. Their relief turned to excitement when they realized the floating pineapple was bumping into something solid. Bridie was the first to recover and scrambled up the hatch to the surface.
Flynn called after her, then followed. Carter came up behind them and stood next to his brother. All three gaped at their surroundings. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the vegetation seemed foreign. The air smelled unlike anything he’d ever smelled, and the sky was painted in odd shades of aqua, blending in with the sea.
Miro yelled for them to get inside because waves were rolling in behind them, ready to pound them into a cliff. But that wasn’t their worst problem. Swooping at them from a massive nest high above were a pair of humongous, winged creatures that did not fit this time. Wicked claws reached for them.
“No way!” Flynn cried excitedly.
Deafened by the screeches coming from the snapping, teeth-lined beaks, Carter dove back inside, right behind Bridie and Flynn. Miro dropped through the hatch and slammed it shut. They rode out the pummeling, maybe for an hour, until everything stopped. Had they been washed up on a beach?
“You three WILL stay inside,” Miro ordered, “and the boys and I will investigate.” Narrowed onyx eyes pinned them down until they relented.
After so many hours had passed listening to ominous noises, Bridie said, “That’s it. I’m going after him.”
The brothers didn’t say a word. Just geared up with their meager belongings and followed her out of the hatch. They climbed down and stood, gaping in disbelief at an unnatural paradise.
“It smells primal,” Flynn concluded after sniffing the air.
“I have no idea what primal smells like,” Bridie whispered as they crept up the beach on shaky legs, “but somehow I get you.”
Carter could hardly take in details fast enough because a lot of what he saw looked edible. His once roiling stomach growled—loud enough, Bridie shot him a sideways glance.
She jerked to a halt. “Do you hear that?”
Not only was the sound terrifying, but the ground vibrated. The tops of the trees rustled. Suddenly, the tigers pounced at them, and they cried out, throwing up their arms until they realized their feline heroes were after something much bigger behind them.
Carter could not believe his eyes. A two-story beast bore down on them with scales, gnashing teeth, and a terrible roar.
Stepping out of the trees, Miro beckoned them, and they ran for their lives. The tigers, having done their worst to a beast with a horrifically thick hide, bounded after them, while Carter entertained the useless thought that floating on the ocean in a pineapple, searching for food, wasn’t so bad.
~~~
How the Contest Works at Writing Battle
Writing Battle… Winter Flash Fiction Contest… What can I say? Okay, I’ll just say it. It feels just like I went ten rounds in a boxing ring! (Since I’ve never done that, I make conjecture here for dramatic purposes.) Only it’s a month long and a knock down drag out struggle through five rounds.
First, there’s the excitement of drawing my prompts with the fabulous flipping tarot cards. Then deciding within the very narrow timeframe of creating my story whether I want to stick with my draw, or try for a redraw. (This time, I did avail myself of the one redraw allowed for the genre, so I went from Winter Survival to Lost World and it felt like a bonus gift! I stuck with my character – zookeeper, and object – pineapple, but I could have redrawn up to 7 more times)
Writing a story in a Lost world with a zookeeper and a pineapple? No problem!
Then comes the writing, rewriting, begging friends and family to read it, rewriting, rewriting, then hitting that submit button. Whew! Surviving stage one… done!
Stage two… the duels. I get to go from writer to judge. The best part? I’m treated to some very good stories (in the three other genres I’m not competing in), and it is so very hard to pick between the two stories (for five duels)! I’ve discovered that offering feedback is not only a great way to give back to my community of writers, but it’s a super good learning experience.
While we wait for stage three, we can open our story to the community and read other stories, then give and get more feedback, or just chat. There are four genres. I mentioned two, Winter Survival and Lost World. The other two were Occult and Meet Cute. One of my favorite stories I read in the post-dueling rest period was from a male author who got Meet Cute and decided to go for it. It wasn’t in his wheelhouse. It was my favorite story. He nailed it. The characters were amazing, it was funny, and the ending delivered the perfect punch and left me grinning.
But the nail biting continues folks. Once the dueling is over and we’ve chilled for about a week and enjoyed more stories, the scoring begins. It’s quite an elaborate system, but I’ll try to capture the gist. There are four rounds of elimination based on the initial seeding round and subsequent dueling results, then the fifth round goes to the professional judge. Each day, we come back for the results. Yikes! I will mention at this point, the platform is pure genius, if you aren’t picking up on that already. All the stages are well laid out with a timer, so you know exactly what will happen next and when.
My goal is to make it to round five one day. I think (if I’m figuring things out right) I made it to round three this time before getting knocked out. My story in the 2022 Autumn Short Story Contest, The Passengers (edited here based on feedback), made it to round two. But that’s okay. The competition is fierce, and no matter the results, you get feedback from your peers. Talk about learning. The story above got enough consistent feedback to tell me exactly what to work on.
I’m signed up for the 500-word Spring Micro Fiction Contest. Registration is open! Then comes the 250-word Summer Nanofiction, then Screenwriting… and back to the 2000-word short story. Did I mention yet, there are cash prizes? Very decent ones, too.
Feedback is welcome on A Pineapple Ride to Anywhere. I’d love to see how it jives with my peers at Writing Battle.
Enjoy a little computer generated imagery and thanks for visiting, and the read!
My Pineapple AI art, courtesy of Photoleap
The last photo is the real thing and inspiration for my story. A landmark in Queensland that captured my imagination before I even traveled there. How could I not use this awesomeness in a story with a pineapple prompt? 😉
Now for the big announcement!
You can meet Max and Teona, the team behind the Writing Battle platform, on my Sunday Creator Spotlight. See Post!
By D. L. Lewellyn 