Strongest Start! (Page 1 of 3)

Do we want to come up with a theme of our own to jumpstart a storyline?  I like crowd-sourcing stories.  It always makes for something interesting that I wouldn't have thought about in any other scenario.  I like the idea of each of us using our own characters but making a common problem that each has to solve in their different ways. 

Otherwise, I'm not doing the Strongest Start.  I'm letting others win who want it more and have more talent :-)

1085 was when the tax men were compiling the "Doomsday Book" in England. That would make an interesting story.

Rebecca's idea is cooler :-)

I can take a challenge. Let's see if I can come up with a neat idea in my world.

A

Hey, you started it (grins)

And at least one of us don't have a clue what she's doing ...

I'm going to sit this one out.  I've got enough going on right now.  And I inspired this?

(Gags quietly.)

Okay, so where do we start? Or rather, how do we start?

Take a look back to the article that started it!  They are the same.

I think I'll go make some popcorn.

You only need the first three chapters to enter. (Actually, you really only need one chapter to enter!) If you win, they hold the prize for you until you are finished writing it.

Here you go, folks.  It isn't more than a page and a half.  What do you think?  Anything in ( ) is supposed to be in italics.

(Priest sez I ‘uz born in year 1085.  Worst day of me life.  Lost me mum to fever.) 

Char shook her head like a dog.  Dirt flew in a halo around her filthy hair, suspended and glittering in the sun.  It was pretty.  She did it again. 

(Paupers don’ get burial like rich folk with stone statue and weepy womans.  I knows when the grave got dug and peoples got flung inside like seed.  ‘Cept they don’ grow.  Souls settle down an’ nap.  Every nows and den, I sees ‘em wake.  Some screams.  Me, I don’ listen to ‘em.   Some talks to me.  Dem I like, since I get taught when dey tells me secrets.)

(I kin write if I wanna.  Mostly don’, but I reads good.  Kin talk like a lady, but then I git beat.)

The townsfolk nearby ignored her as usual, walking around with their ghosts dragging behind like linked kites.  Old lady Mari had the most, babies clinging to every piece of her exposed skin.  Char watched her pass, blowing a kiss at the oldest boy.  He followed behind his mother, wobbling on unsteady feet and yelling for his mam’s attention.

Mari pulled her headcloth tighter. Spots lined her care-worn hands as they kept the vegetables from falling into the dirt.  Mari rushed away, basket under her arm.  The boy’s ghost lunged forward, dragged by the old woman’s pain.

Char picked a new person to watch.  The bum had just arrived yesterday.  He was a sad one, lines visible beneath a coating of overgrown beard.  She headed his way and mumbled a greeting to the ghost who stood at his shoulder, stroking the man’s hair as if she wanted to be reborn as a comb. 

The ghost looked up and met Char’s eyes.  There was surprise written in the grey eyes.  “You can see me?” the lady asked in the murmured vibration that only the dead used.  She was pretty, with long hair and a circlet of metal around a round and youthful face. 

Char nodded.  She picked a piece of loose straw from the ground and used it to scratch her scalp, sighing in relief as the straw worked its way under the rats nest of her hair. 

A raw look of hope blossomed the dead lady’s face and giving it a hint of color.  “Can you talk to him for me?” she pleaded.

Her eyes might have been green, Char decided.  “Dependin’ what he sez,” she answered.

“What?” asked the bum.  He looked up. 

In his hands, Char could see a little bird carved as if it were flying.  She wanted it so bad, but she wanted food more.  “You got sometin’ to eats, sir?” she asked and tried not to look desperate.  Everything she wanted got stripped away, so it was best to plan on hunger tonight.

The bum reached into his coat and handed her a hunk of bread.  “For you, milady,” he said in a flourish. 

His eyes were nice.  Blue like the sky.  Char snatched the food away, seeing the bird tucked into the fresh baking.   She hesitated as the pretty lady continued to plead, hands folded as if in church.

Char took a deep breath and mumbled a question at the ghost.

The pretty lady let out a sob and answered.  “Tara.  Tell Edmond that I love him.  Tell him…

(She ask’d and he givin’ me food.  I’m gonna git beat or burnt as a witch At least iz gonna be wit a happy belly.)

Taking a deep breath, Char dropped the piece of straw and got ready to run.  “Tara sez she lovin’ yuz, Edmond.  She standin’ to the side, keepin’ yeh close.  You a lucky man, knowin’ her wit’ such a purty face in all.  I gots to go now.”

The bum looked at Char, not avoiding her eyes at all.  “Wait a minute, what?” he asked in a cracking voice. 

The pretty lady reached out an arm, keeping contact with Edmond's skin.  "He has to know!  I found a portal before I died.  Please, tell him!"

Char took the chance to run away, letting her feet lead the rest of her to safety.