Day 3. The Title

Imagine you’re looking through a collection of short stories. One of the titles catches your interest. That’s the story you want to read first. Now, write a story to go with that title . . .

Preamble if you will,

Reading over the description of the challenge I think I might have gotten it wrong. Maybe I was just lazy that particular day and didn’t acknowledge what was being asked. On a minor tangent, I’ve been interested in, don’t judge :/ erotic short stories and this happens to be one I would like to write eventually. I’m trusting no one will steal this idea.

Anywho, below you’ll find my story and then Patrick’s (my boyfriend) story. He, too, was not pleased with this particular challenge. So now I don’t feel so bad.

The Title: Terminal Love by Yours Truly
What to do when fate brings two people together in the place of transition, from one plane unto the next? For Jackie and Ivan, this question plagued their minds, broke their hearts, and gave them hope simultaneously. What if they were never meant to be together? How can they survive without each other? The flirting, the romance, the sex, the intrigue, the suspense  the longing, hoping, and dreaming of a life together . . . what do you do?

 

The Title: Jungle Walk by Patrick Reid

Rain, sleet or snow, it was five blocks from Jason Becks house to his school. His mother rushed him out the door as per the usual, as if his exit would herald some grand escape to a tropical paradise for the next 5 hours.  Today it was hot as Satan’s balls. That meant his walk would not only be long, hot and painful but today’s forecast would see at least one girl take notice of his sweaty armpits. He turned north on his street and started his lonely walk from the destitution of Earls Town to the posh enclave of St. Margaret’s Academy. The noise that would eventually overtake the streets in a few hours slowly reared it nose when a police car shot passed in the opposite direction blasting its sirens at the invisible traffic. The Hispanics were already out in front of the local Garage, some dancing and some looking to fight anyone who looked up to it. Jason kicked up his routine. Eyes straight ahead. Check. Hoodie over Face. Check. Flight or fight instincts on deck. Check. Though even Jason admitted that the day he chooses to fight any of these monsters is the day he had decided it was time to die. As he passed the burnt out building directly across the workshop he counted the steps to the corner onto 54th.

As he turned the corner his heart relaxed as the hookers smiled widely at him. A tall blond hooker who called herself Mystique shouted at him from down the line.

What did you all think? After reading my story again, Patrick doesn’t feel so bad about his, which makes me wonder if mine was really that bad :/

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So tell me . . . what do you think?

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