From Fiction University: Enabling third party cookies on your browser could help if you have trouble leaving a comment.

Sunday, February 4

Writing Prompt: The Chain Story: Ah-Choo!

By Janice Hardy, @Janice_Hardy

This week’s prompt is a chain story! I’ll give you the first line, and someone else comments and builds off that line. Next commenter will build off that line, and so on.

In the event of two commenters posting at the same time and sending the story in different directions, just pick the line you like best, or try to incorporate both if you can.

The woman in the weird sweater kept sneezing.


Let the fun begin.

7 comments:

  1. I slid from my seat to avoid her saliva spreading over me. I could not get sick. Not now.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  3. The train barreled on towards Chicago, as I took a seat farther back in the car. No, now was not the time to get sick. Not with Mom's diagnosis.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I edged closer, hoping to catch what she had, hoping to have a good reason to ditch the interview.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Conflicted, I paced up and down the aisle. The flu would keep me from visiting the cancer center to set up Mom's treatment. Dan would be forced to step in and help. But would he be sober enough to answer the phone?

    ReplyDelete
  6. No, I can’t take that risk. For all I know he’s passed out in a ditch right now. He can barely take care of himself, let alone our sick mother. Sighing heavily, I slide into a vacant seat as far away from the sneezing woman as possible. Just contemplating the idea of purposely getting sick was ridiculous. I’ve been carrying out the responsibilities of caring for my mom for months now and it was all becoming stressful, but I owed it to her. After all, I was the only one that seemed to care about her nowadays. The only one alive at least.

    ReplyDelete
  7. And would he ev___ Waaaait a minute. What in the name of all things green and organic was going on! A couple of purple strands from the sweater were curling themselves around her neck, appearing and disappearing as the sweater knitted itself. A grey, naughty one was flopping about under her nose, attempting to look industrious and... achoo! The woman smiled up at me. "It's my grandmother's." Like that explained everything.

    ReplyDelete