This was our writing exercise a few days ago. It had to start with "It was a dark and stormy night," and end with either "Twas a lovely picnic." or "Monkeys!" You'll see which one I chose. Feedback, please!It was a dark and stormy night. Priscilla was combing her fluroescent white hair in the few beams of moonlight that managed to shine through the red velvet curtains over picture windows across the room."Hmm." She said, pursing her lips that shone like blood. "What cliche weather we're having, considering I'm going to murder my husband in about ten minutes...." She chuckled to herself just as a man with dark, slicked-back hair to match his pencil mustache entered the room. His beady black eyes held no emotion as he spoke to his wife."Priscilla, darling, are you quite ready to depart? We wouldn't want to be late for the Hornby's souiree." His voice drawled in a way that suggested wealth. Priscilla had always loathed that."Coming, dear." She said. "I'll meet in the parlor in just a moment." She parted her ruby lips to reveal perfectly straight, white teeth. It could have been a smile. Or a sneer.The slimy man turned on his bony heels and strode out of the room. The second he was out of sight Priscilla's emerald eyes darkened and she deftly grabbed a jewelry box off the shelf. It creaked as she began to lift the jewel-encrusted lid. The hilt of the dagger was barely visible in the dim light of the fireplace. This knife was one of her oldest companions. She had used it to kill her first husband, her second husband, her mother... Her third husband's death had actually been an accident. He fell off of a fourth floor balcony while Priscilla chased him with the knife. She laughed at the memories of such good times and raised the lid all the way. She stared down at the black silk in the box and saw that the glint of light she thought was the knife's handle was actually a cymbal clutched in furry brown hands. A gasp escaped her lungs. She never thought she would see this again. The onyx eyes that seemed to glow with Hell's fire... She placed a hand over her cold heart and whispered, "Monkeys!"
December 16, 2011
It was a Dark and Stormy Cliche...
This was our writing exercise a few days ago. It had to start with "It was a dark and stormy night," and end with either "Twas a lovely picnic." or "Monkeys!" You'll see which one I chose. Feedback, please!It was a dark and stormy night. Priscilla was combing her fluroescent white hair in the few beams of moonlight that managed to shine through the red velvet curtains over picture windows across the room."Hmm." She said, pursing her lips that shone like blood. "What cliche weather we're having, considering I'm going to murder my husband in about ten minutes...." She chuckled to herself just as a man with dark, slicked-back hair to match his pencil mustache entered the room. His beady black eyes held no emotion as he spoke to his wife."Priscilla, darling, are you quite ready to depart? We wouldn't want to be late for the Hornby's souiree." His voice drawled in a way that suggested wealth. Priscilla had always loathed that."Coming, dear." She said. "I'll meet in the parlor in just a moment." She parted her ruby lips to reveal perfectly straight, white teeth. It could have been a smile. Or a sneer.The slimy man turned on his bony heels and strode out of the room. The second he was out of sight Priscilla's emerald eyes darkened and she deftly grabbed a jewelry box off the shelf. It creaked as she began to lift the jewel-encrusted lid. The hilt of the dagger was barely visible in the dim light of the fireplace. This knife was one of her oldest companions. She had used it to kill her first husband, her second husband, her mother... Her third husband's death had actually been an accident. He fell off of a fourth floor balcony while Priscilla chased him with the knife. She laughed at the memories of such good times and raised the lid all the way. She stared down at the black silk in the box and saw that the glint of light she thought was the knife's handle was actually a cymbal clutched in furry brown hands. A gasp escaped her lungs. She never thought she would see this again. The onyx eyes that seemed to glow with Hell's fire... She placed a hand over her cold heart and whispered, "Monkeys!"
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This is great. I love how the whole thing is a cliche, down to Priscilla having the ugliest name ever to match her hideous personality. What I want to know is: Why was Priscilla so angry? She had to be upset or depressed or vicious about something. There had to be something in her past that would make her want to kill her husbands and her mother. Did they know too much? Did she have some kind of horrible secret and that's why she was a killer? Did she just like killing people because she was a sick and twisted individual? And what's with the monkey? Also, how did her husbands not know that there was something off about her?There is a ridiculous amount of detail in this story because it's so short, but the descriptive words really help paint the picture of what is happening. Great job making a lame writing exercise entertaining. I want to know what happens next.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great story, filled with great descriptions, added onto with great character development. I would clap for you if I wasn't too busy typing. I liked how you described everything in the room even down to the blood colored lipstick. It was also very nice how you took the character Priscilla and made her three dimensional by having her act one way towards her husband but feel completely different. I also liked how you gave a brief but thorough synopsis of her history without droning on in details. It was short, juicy, and gave the reader only what they needed. Bravo, I liked it!
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