Some opening lines for stories never to be written…

But first…
Dulltown UK/Europe: Today’s giraffe is the one you find peering into your bedroom window when you draw the curtains in the morning.
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Billy Tubbs relished embarking on little practical jobs around his old house. It would be so very satisfying installing an electric socket on the wall by his new ornate standard lamp. He slid a fat flat screwdriver into an inviting gap and levered up a short length of pine floorboard, hopefully to expose a nest of dusty power cables living underneath. The screwdriver slipped from Billy’s hand and clattered down into the hole – after a full two seconds he heard it land. Aha! he thought, This must be the long lost secret tunnel of mad Captain Bustard…

The fruit market was unusually busy that Wednesday afternoon. Agent Clara Sputt peered down at the large display of watermelons; one of them obviously stood out, it being much larger than its companions; that was just the one that would be chosen later by Anna Krapzarovna – Clara had meticulously studied Krapzarovna’s habits for weeks. Sputt looked around furtively, and then quickly and surreptitiously slipped the needle-thin radio microphone into the soft juicy flesh of the fruit – suddenly a strong hand reached from behind and closed around her right upper arm…

Ghost-hunter Barry Flute pushed open the heavy creaking oak door to the dungeon of Boghope Castle out on the Isle of Lucy. He had left a small camera there recording through the night. The low chamber smelled damp and foetid, he hadn’t noticed that earlier. He picked the camera up and was disappointed to see that only a few seconds had been recorded. He pressed ‘play’. A green monochrome image showed the door opening and he himself walking in. But, in the background, an apparition was materialising, it was holding a large, and real, beheading axe…

Princess Mutlar-of-Gowns was not afraid of the Dome-of-Thoughtfulness. She strode purposefully into the marble hall. To the right she was surprised to see a familiar figure, it was Dragon-Boy-of-Tumbledown-Shed – he was holding his magical Sword-of-Spledge, but not by the hilt, but by its glistening pale curved blade. The Princess glanced upwards as she suddenly sensed something untoward – she gasped as she saw, crouching on one of the dusty ancient oak beams, the Beast-of-All-Eggs. It peered down and smiled horribly at her, it opened its ugly wet mouth wider, and sighed…

I had no trouble travelling to, or entering, the bank. As confidently as I could manage, I approached the counter. Two of the robot tellers standing in the middle of the room glanced meaningfully at each other, they had sensed that something unusual was about to go down. Other customers turned and looked quizzically at me. I opened my mouth to speak, but one of the tellers put a shiny round finger to his lips to forestall me; the other ran forward and grabbed me in a mechanical, but passionate embrace – I felt her cold round riveted cheek on my neck, as she whispered in my ear…

Boghope Castle.

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in animals, books, creation, drama, giraffe, humour, information, puzzle, sex, story, style, surrealism, sweating, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Some opening lines for stories never to be written…

  1. I love these. Billy Tubbs and his portal, now that made me think of our cat Luna who many years ago disappeared through the accidentally open panel in the closet (access to the bathtub) and wandered out of sight, mewing, for some time, between the bedroom floor/living room ceiling…or so we think? Who really knows? She returned on her own (after I spent the afternoon shaking a box of her food to entice her out so that I did not have to break apart the LR ceiling) but as I look back, she did seem…changed…when she returned…

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