![]() He was painfully aware of the suede elbow patches on his coat jacket, of the dullness of his black shoes, of the fact that he had not combed his hair since yesterday. He walked into the library at noon every Friday, carrying his briefcase, his token of intellectuality, this small square thing that he never carried except when he saw her, because he needed something to tell her, to give her the sign, that he was a man of many thoughts and many occupations, and that he would never be worthy of her but that he would try. A world with her in it would have to be the most beautiful world of all. And he knew that no author need waste ink on explaining the existence of the stars - she was there, and that was enough, because of course, a world with her in it would have the brightest stars, the highest mountains, the greenest trees. He was wildly glad to have chosen his particular profession, and as he browsed through the books on planets and on moons, as he perused long-winded works that explained the existence of the stars in too many words, he felt her hawk eyes watching him. ![]() The books were in alphabetical order, and the A was closest to her desk. ![]() He loved the way her bony elbows rested on her desk. He loved the way she smiled, the way she pursed her thin stripe of a mouth into a careful, small smile, a smile not given out often and not given out gladly. He loved the way her long slender fingers crept over the books like thin white spiders, the way her keen, sharp eyes swept around the room, peering owlishly over her chunky black spectacles, seeing everything and seeing nothing. The main characters: poised astronomer and miserly librarian. Idea: The theme of this story: romantic tragedy. I've got one, I've got one! I actually wrote this a while ago based on what one of those generators spewed out, so it's really only a snippet, but hopefully it will do. Well, I liked that! Pretty good for a randomly generated idea! He lifted it up to see a familiar green bottle with a very elaborate gold label. He felt something else, too - something heavy in his hand. The woman wrapped her arms around his waist. A woman was behind him - a beautiful woman. It was empty - was it private? Was it his?Īs Monty's mind spilled over with questions and pure shock, he heard footsteps. He was by a luxurious indoor swimming pool. His suit was brand new, his trousers crisp and clean. Rings! Rings with jewels the size of fists! He looked down. Lifting his hand to it, he saw a sparkle on his fingers. Monty shut his eyes and pushed back in his stool.Ī few minutes later, he awoke. As he swung the bottle to his mouth, the room fell dark. Without a moment's thought, Monty burst the seal and sent the cork rocketing into the lightbulb above. He passed it to Monty like a person gives a mad, starving lion a lamb chop, pulling his fingers back so hastily that there was an audible wooshing. The bartender unlocked the cabinet slowly and gently handled the bottle. With one smooth move (well, as smooth a move as a drunk person can make), his credit card was on the table. If Monty was going down, he was going down with class. "Shampaine! Speshelshampaine! Thewhoalbottle!" Locked away in the glassy cabinet, standing all alone like a king of alcohol, was the Special Champagne. The light twinkled through the liquids within each one. His eyes passed across the glistening upturned bottles at the back of the bar. "We, uh.there's no.would you like something else?" He knew just how easy it was to anger drunk customers. He ummed and ahhed like his life depended on it. The bartender was actually shielding himself with the cloth. "Well, uh, it would seem you've, uh.drained our beer supply." He twiddled his glass-cleaning cloth between his fingers, cowering slightly. He exhaled and let the rest of his fat roll out. A big, fat, jobless, girlfriendless, car-windowless blob of nothing. He looked down at his flabby layers of stomach. Oh, Monty's too fat to chase kids round the town! When he finds the kid who threw that brick, he'll.he'll. He had just lost his job, his girlfriend and his car window. If there was ever a worse day, he hadn't heard of it. ![]() Idea : During the story, a character drinks something they haven't had in a while. Tell us the generators you used and, if you want to, the ideas that inspired you. However, I'm always creative in groups.Ĭlick the link above, go to the generators and try to make a story. I'm always there, but I can't force myself to use the ideas from there. It's full of writing generators and stuff. ![]()
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