Story 1 - Boy vs Girl - Part I

Anthony needed something really good. Something so brilliant that it would knock her socks off. He knew that her entry would be fantastic. It always was. But he wanted to win - just this once.

    All he wanted was a better story. Was that really too much to ask?

    There was a pen and a small pile of blank pieces of paper in front of him. The rubbish bin beside the desk was piled high with his previous atttempts, scrunched up and useless, wastes of time and paper.

    He sighed and stared out the window at the busy road below his study, the lights flashing by in the rain. He'd been trying to find an idea that would match the story topic all week, but hadn't come up with anything that grabbed him, nothing that would just roll out of his brain and, singing, fall onto the page.

    He picked up his pen and started yet again.

    They meandererd through the library, sipping from the brandy balloons, chatting to each other idly. The library had bookcases reaching the ceiling and tables selectively placed with discussion pieces - stuffed animals from foreign climes, statues, by the great masters and rare first editions. A young woman sat at the piano, playing softly. She had recently been seen playing to much acclaim in theatres in the West End and her presence added further to the cachet of the evening.

    As the gathered crowd spent time in idle chit-chat they would occasionally look up and check the ornate clock hung obviously on one of the walls. As the longer hand slowly approached the 12 the hubbub in the room became more and more hushed. When the clock finally struck the hour the room descended into an almost perfect  silence.

    When the room was perfectly quiet the Author strode into the room. A lectern had been set up in one of the corners of the room and he moved quickly to it without acknowledging anybody in the room until he reached the stand. He placed his papers down on the lectern, pulled his glasses and a cloth out of his pocket, cleaned them, put them on and before finally looking around at the gathering.

   His suit was clean and new and of the finest quality, but something about the way that he wore it seemed to cause it to be rumpled and ill-fitting. He cleared his throat and spoke out to those assembled before him. For such a large and imposing man, his voice was surprisingly thin and reedy.

    "I'd like to thank you all for coming this evening," he began. "It's not often that I am able to address an audience such as this as my work normally curtails such activities. But the manuscript for my new novel Hark At The Mountain was sent to the printers last week and we were graciously offered the oppotunity to address you all this evening. 

    "I spent six months in research, reading about tribal customs in the Americas, and I hope that it has allowed me to paint a word picture of their life that will stay with you and leave you something to think about."

    He cleared his throat. "And so without further ado I present the first chapter of my forthcoming novel Hark At The Mountain." He reordered his papers and began.

    The moon hung low and fat in the sky as the tribe finished the meal - the hunt had been successful this day and the tribespeople had gorged themselves more than they had in weeks. The flames of the fires had died down, leaving the glowing coals still burning hot.

    The conversations had died down with the flames and the small tribe waited patiently, seated around the coals, for one of their number to stand and tell a story.

    Anthony sighed again. This one didn't even touch on the Boy versus Girl topic and was starting to go around in a circle. The Simmons girl would definitely beat him if he continued writing like this. He scrunched up his latest draft into a ball and threw it in the bin. At least he was getting better at something - he hadn't missed the bin on the last five throws.