Here's how this project started.  With a simple Twitter post.  Then others started filling in the gaps.  Read below, then in the comments, write the next line.

DaddyClaxton: What's the next sentence? "I'm no hero. My cape has been taken from me; stripped away by the greed & evil of others." Let's write the book.

I sit here now, listening to the sound my keyboard makes as I write this note. (thanks, @Rebecca_Pugh)!!

It's cold and the darkness of my room pervades over what once was an oasis of light, happiness and a well of strength.

It's raining, and yet, somehow.. it soothes me. I know I should get up
and clean, but the glow of my monitor mesmerizes me. I stop. There is a
noise in the hallway. Something doesn't seem right. (I'm so there in
the moment, what's next?)

I smell something. It's tickling my memories, senses I've not felt in
years. The back of my brain is throbbing. I can't place that scent.

I want to yell, "Damn you, Salazar," like the guy in Charlies Angels,
but my instincts tell me, that would be dangerous. Something lurks….

The floor creaks as I step. That smell. What is that smell? What am I not remembering?

I step out the door. There's something peering at me. Eye level. Confused
I step closer just as the neighbor's cat hisses and lunges.

I fall back. My head bangs against the doorwell and lights flash in my
mind's eye. Was it a muzzle flash?! I hear voices. It's fuzzy.

UPDATES: 


Jack said…

Suddenly
I realize that I haven't really lost my cape. The wind caused it to
blow over my head, blinding me so that I didn't see the staircase. I
must have banged my head when I fell down.

That would explain the throbbing knot and the considerable pain radiating throughout the rest of my body.


BookBuzzr said…

But
still, I can't place that smell. I know it, and yet it eludes me. I lie
immobile, scared, not sure what to believe. Is this a dream? Or did I
really fall down the stairs? Oh wait…
Whats that noise again?

Voices,
repeated over and over again in a familiar voice. Remember, remember,
for I shall not be around to protect you, the voice lingers through the
recesses. I desperately try grabbing at the imagined sounds, fingers
looking for strands of some semblence of sanity. It evades my attempts
but teases me none the less.


01/18/2010 at 04:51 AM


ChristinaKB said…

The
echos fade to a hum, then a murmur. But that smell… fresh rain, or is
it blood? Rust? Ozone from an air purifyer? Pick, pick, pick. My mind's
eye swirls, drawn to that day. Once I'm in the range of it, I'm sucked
in. Soon it is the only memory I have. The day when everything changed.

OKAY, let's keep it going.  Who is our capeless hero?  Man or woman?  Mortal or superhuman?  Why did he/she lose their cape?  Who is it they're afraid of?  What did they really think was out there in the hallway?  Why are they so worried?  And what's with that smell?  What has been blocked out of this character's mind? 

Let's see how far we can take this tale.  It's fun reading so far.  I'm intrigued….




  1. Jack

    Suddenly I realize that I haven’t really lost my cape. The wind caused it to blow over my head, blinding me so that I didn’t see the staircase. I must have banged my head when I fell down.
    That would explain the throbbing knot and the considerable pain radiating throughout the rest of my body.

  2. Donny "Daddy" Claxton

    Very cool, Jack. Thanks for writing the next line.

  3. BookBuzzr

    But still, I can’t place that smell. I know it, and yet it eludes me. I lie immobile, scared, not sure what to believe. Is this a dream? Or did I really fall down the stairs? Oh wait…
    Whats that noise again?

  4. Hamish Hoosen Pillay

    Voices, repeated over and over again in a familiar voice. Remember, remember, for I shall not be around to protect you, the voice lingers through the recesses. I desperately try grabbing at the imagined sounds, fingers looking for strands of some semblence of sanity. It evades my attempts but teases me none the less.

  5. ChristinaKB

    The echos fade to a hum, then a murmur. But that smell… fresh rain, or is it blood? Rust? Ozone from an air purifyer? Pick, pick, pick. My mind’s eye swirls, drawn to that day. Once I’m in the range of it, I’m sucked in. Soon it is the only memory I have. The day when everything changed.

  6. Donny "Daddy" Claxton

    Thanks to each of you for your posts. This really a cool process and something I hope to continue here on the site.


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