Having trouble coming up with a good beginning or ending line for a story?
Just pick a random one from another book!
During the last stream, a subscriber picked that we write a story with a beginning sentence randomly chosen from a book, and an ending sentence randomly chosen from another book.
Watch the full video here, or scroll down for the story.
Our beginning sentence came from Stephen King’s 11/22/63: Hold on and wait for the ringy-dingy.
Our ending sentence came from Suzanne Collins’s Hunger Games: If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you.
Here’s what we came up with to fill in the story between those two sentences:
Hold on and wait for the ringy-dingy.
Ring ring. Bring the Master his breakfast of fried sausages and eggs, then have him force you to lick the grease off the plate to make his daughter giggle.
Ring ring. It’s time for the Lady’s midday drink, which turns her from a grinning spider to a screaming monster in one small sip, adding fresh bruises to your rainbow-splotted leg.
Ring ring. Tea time for the Young Missus, boiling hot. With the Lady passed out in her bedroom, no one hears your screams as steam pours off your hands except the other servants.
Ring ring. Lunchtime. Whack. Too slow.
Between rings, the servants gather in the downstairs kitchen, seated on their stools with no rests for backs or arms. They grip with scarred hands onto the bar that slides through each of their Spartan seats, holding on — as instructed — waiting for one of the brass ringy-dingies on the wall to clang and call for them.
Moving unless serving the Family was forbidden. Random checks from the Master and Lady made sure of that. As did the decrepit hands hanging from the ceiling of the last servant caught standing without permission.
But speaking was not forbidden. And the masters couldn’t stop all of them if they stood at the same time.
Their first steps to the ground from the stools were shaky. All of them moved together, gripping their bars, watching each other, making sure they were actually going to go through with this.
As soon as their shoes touched the floor, without any sign of the Master or Lady catching them, their tremors stopped. It was as if confidence spread along the ground like spilled tea, connecting and unifying them. They marched as one single unit up the staircase, bursting into the dining room that they had served mere minutes ago.
The three faces of the Family froze at the sight. Mouths agape, eyes burning, the Lady was the first to grasp for the string to the bell.
Ring ring. She yanked. All of the servants cringed, as if having a collective tooth pulled. And yet, they marched on.
Ring ring. The master grabbed the string this time. Only a small twitch from the group as they surrounded the dinner table.
Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring. The Young Missus tightly tugged the string, whipping it through the air like an angry toddler gabbing for its teddy. She was stopped only by one of the servants clasping her small, pale hand in his own calloused one.
The Master demanded to know what they wanted. The servants told him: they wanted to leave. The Master sighed. That was the one thing he could not give them. If word got out that they were unable to control their servants, they would be disgraced. If guests came to visit, and they had no servants, they would be destroyed.
The servants considered this for a moment, then came up with a proposal. Outside of the house, no one would know anything had changed. But inside of the house, they would switch places. The masters would now sit on the stools, and the servants would now ring the bells when they needed meals or tea.
The masters agreed to the terms quickly. A little too quickly for one of the servant’s liking. He had been standing behind the others, holding a freshly-brewed kettle of tea in his bandage-wrapped hands. Now he pressed through the others to the front and told the Family to place their hands onto the table, fingers spread, and hold them still. Perfectly still. They did, but their fingers still shook as they stared at him in fear and he positioned the steaming kettle over their hands, ready to pour. He spoke.
“If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you.”
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Featured image: GAHAG (edited by me)