Hump Day Kick Start – for your muse, a writing picture prompt, or just a visual treat.
Ooh. The intrigue! Tell me about this book. Who does it belong to? A mad scientist from the future? A missing child? A jaded lover? What’s inside? Is it a spell book with instructions to unleash evil upon us? Information on the day the world ends? A detailed confession? Evidence that vampires exist? My juicy diary?
Give it a shot. Tell a tale or caption the pic.
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BENEATH THE WATER'S EDGE Romancing the Pirate novella
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Ooooo, right up my alley. This may take a bit. post later
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Looking forward to what you cook up, Ruth.
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“Where did you find that?” asked Humbert.
“Basement… crevice behind a brick I pried loose,” replied Janine.
“How’d you know to look there?”
“I didn’t. But when the sun rises, a tiny beam of light comes through that little window and shines directly on that particular brick.”
Humbert looked skeptical. “What you doing up at sunrise?”
“Looking for this.”
“You knew it was hidden in the cellar?”
“I knew something was down there.”
“How?”
She sighed. “It had to be. Everybody in the family’s been talking about some weird secret for three generations, but nobody has ever found it.”
“Secret about what?”
“Nobody knows. It’s secret.”
“And you think that little book will shed any light…?”
“It has to.”
“So open it already,” he said.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“See this note on the cover?”
“Oh, everybody puts that on their private stuff.”
“Not everybody.”
“Well, it doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “Just open it.”
“Nope.”
“If you don’t, we’ll never know the secret.”
She mulled that over and nodded. “But I still can’t open it.”
“Superstitious?” He chuckled. “Oh, just give it to me. I’m not afraid of a silly warning. Besides, it’s probably just a bunch of grocery lists.”
“Don’t open it, Humbert. Could be dangerous.”
“You’re always telling me what to do. Don’t you think I’m mature enough to know when I should and when I shouldn’t open a stupid old whatever with some spooky warning on the cover?”
“Maybe not.”
“Give it here,” he demanded. Then he snatched it from her hands and opened it.
Immediately, lightning filled the cellar and Janine fainted.
When she woke up, Humbert was gone.
The little book was on the floor, open to the first page. It read, “This will rid your life of nosy immature people.”
Janine smiled. Good riddance to Humbert.
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Haha! Poor Humbert. And who names their son Humbert?
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wasn’t he the professor in the book Lolita?
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Don’t know. Never read the book. *shrug*
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Aw, come on. There’s no way I’m NOT going to open THAT. It’s like a prostitute paying ME for sex. Still, my hands tremble, as I open it. What could be inside that no one wants exposed? Jon Benet’s murderer’s diary? Nostradamos’ confession to freaking out future generations by making up all that crap and then freaking himself when it all really happened? OJ’s private photos of the crime scene? What the hell can be so personal, so private it has to be secreted away by someone who took vows of never reading what’s in it?
Again, my hands shake with fear and more than a little dread. I turn the slightly stiff leather cover and turn past the first few pages that are yellowed and blank. Then there it is, something no one could ever even conceive being hidden like that, for so long, so hidden.
“Marcia’s Favorite Smoothie recipe”
1 1/2 cups whole milk
3 bananas
7 ice cubes
Smoothie mix (from grocery store)
chocolate to taste
Place all ingredients into blender. Push ice crush, then whip, the add even more chocolate. Drink
Evil. Pure Evil. I am tempted to burn it and then dump the ashes down the sink.
Damn bitch Marcia. I turn more pages which are also yellowed and stiff but no more recipes present themselves. Not quite like having a prostitute pay me unless it’s with this recipe…all over me…wait! I think of something more evil. Yeah, bitch Marcia, I’m going to keep this recipe and think of you every morning I drink it…
Sorry, didn’t get to this til tonight…Patti
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Haha! Brilliant, Patti!
Can’t wait to try this recipe out myself.
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How long is too long- it seems I wrote a short story
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It’s all good, Ruth. But maybe you’ll want to sell it.
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