The Alphabet Challenge

Question

After spending the better part of the day on the site, adding a few stories and whatnot, I decided to top it all off with a challenge. So here it is, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed discovering the website:

Your assignment is to write a story where each sentence begins with the next letter of the alphabet. There is no word limit, but it would be nice if the whole alphabet was represented.

Comments

I did not pick a winner because I can't make my mind up. They're all so good. Thank you all for your responses!

Answer 1

After much thought, I decided it was best to leave.
Barefoot, and with only the clothes on my back, I set off down the long dirt road to my future.
Cuts on my feet oozed blood as I collapsed on the side of the road after a solid twelve hours of walking.
Did anyone know I'd left yet?
Every time I spoke, they ignored me, so I don't think they even knew I was there in the first place.
Finally, three days later, I reached my destination.
Green ivy covered the walls of the brink building.
He was standing on the balcony, looking out to the horizon.
I called his name, and he looked down at me.
“Jesi...I knew you'd come...”
“Kiss me, please, I walked all this way to feel your lips again.”
Like were were two halves to a whole, our lips met.
Minutes passed like that as we tasted each others kisses.
Never had I felt so complete.
Only the pain in my feet could have broken the kiss, and I asked to sit down.
“Please, come inside, I've been waiting for you.”
Queens didn't live like I did with him...I had everything my heart desired.
Reaching old age, I laid in his arms one night, remembering the happy years together.
Softly, his lips brushed mine.
That kiss was the last we shared.
Unfortunately, every romance has to end and ours ended that night.
Very few people get to die in the arms of the one they love, but both of us did.
We fell asleep in each others arms, and neither of us ever woke up.
X's and O's mark the tree we carved our names into, and we were buried under it's branches.
Years later, someone cut down the tree to build a house.
Zelda doesn't know we haunt her basement, because we're peaceful, and still in love.

Comments

Okay, you won me over. That was beautiful.

---

Came a little late to the party midnight, but you hit a home run.  Nice one!

---

Thank you very much :-)

Answer 2

Sounds fun.
 
About the time Jimmy realized he had any sexuality, he got confused.

Becky was a real looker and everyone wanted her.

Carla was his mental equal in math and science.

Darryl mystified him, though.

Even though he knew something was wrong, he couldn't help befriending Darryl.

Forgetting his fears, he aproached him in the cafeteria.

'God, give me strength' he thought as he laid down his tray.

He sat down.

"I really liked your speech yesterday"  he said.

Jimmy was surprised at the scared look on Darryl's face.

Kindness from other students was foreign to him.

"Liked it?" he said stunned.

"My favorite part was the LSD flashback."

"No one can tell us what to use as subject matter."

"Otherwise it would take the creativity out of Creative Speech Class"  I concurred.

"Paul Grift looked like he wanted to slug me."

"Queer guy,' we both laughed.

Real people are rare in my life, too.

So many bullies and bigots.

Tough guys are a dime a dozen.

Under that frozen exterior there must be a confused boy.

Very well stated - if I do say so.

"When do you get out of class today?"
 
"X Factor is my last class at 3 PM"

"You mind if I drop by around 4 for a pizza?"

"Zoe will probably freak and call us names, but OK."

The end.  It never turned into anything romantic, but their bond was thicker than that.

Comments

very cool, Giraffe!

Answer 3

Alpha Male was not how one might have described Joe: diffident, mild, easy-going.
‘Bravo,’ his girlfriend sighed sarcastically as he struck out the last of their matches without getting so much as a single spark.
‘Charlie, I know camping isn’t exactly your style, but I think we’ll both enjoy it if we give it a chance.’
‘Delta Airlines are doing a special deal at the moment; we could have gone to Canada,’ was her reply.
Echo-like, the words rang in his head as he set about looking for flint, and he wondered if this hadn’t been a huge mistake: after all, if (as he suspected) their relationship was failing in the best of circumstances, how could it survive here?
Foxtrot between man and nature played out as Joe searched hither and thither to find the hunter-gatherer tools of flint and kindling that man has long called friend.
Golf, of course, was the past-time Charlie thought he should enjoy: a man’s game, the sport of gentlemen, the hobby of choice for the movers and shakers, like her dear Papa.
Hotel living with room service, ocean views and an infinity pool wouldn’t go amiss, either.
India, Provence, Sicily: destinations that they could have been enjoying chased themselves around Joe’s skull as he struck what he thought was flint, but could just as easily have been granite, for all he knew.
Juliet, his sister, had put him up to this, telling him that she and her boyfriend Michael had rekindled their relationship by the glowing light of their roaring campfire – although, as Joe pointed out to himself while his arms went numb from the striking motion, that had been in a warm June, not the end of autumn.
Kilo of kindling plus kilo of unsuccessful stone plus kilo of sweat from a hundred failed attempts equals a metric tonne of disappointment.
Lemur-like in his meekness, Joe was forced to admit defeat: no flint, and more importantly, no fire-lighting skill.
‘Mike and Juliet said there was an actual campsite not too far from here: we could probably borrow some kerosene or something… maybe even cadge a bottle of wine?’ Joe wheedled, making Charlie shrug with only feigned indifference and allowing Joe to lead the way through the forest.
November mist swirled about them, the fog masking the gnarled tree roots so that by the time they were noticed, Charlie was already lying face down on the ground.
Oscar winners have dreamt about the kinds of tears and histrionics Charlie went through as Joe carefully examined her ankle.
‘Papa told me about the Delta Airlines thing,’ Charlie remarked, not really to anyone in particular.
‘Quebec seems like it could have been the sensible option,’ Joe said with a rueful smile, brushing her hair off her forehead and smiling into her tearful eyes.
‘Romeo,’ she murmured playfully as he lifted her up and carried her, without so much as a grunt of exertion, through the dark woods.
Sierra, as a word, had never looked so welcoming as it did in silver letters on the back of their old Ford.
Tango dancing had nothing on the contortions and twisting Joe went through to carefully wedge Charlie comfortably in the back seat so she could keep her ankle elevated.
Uniform, orange-glow streetlights announced their arrival back in civilisation, and Joe was, in spite of himself, immensely cheered by their artificial presence.
“Victor” was the word Joe would, if he had thought about it, have used to describe himself as he carried Charlie in through the large, white double doors: sure, some guys (Bear Grylls wannabes, no doubt) could make fire, but he had navigated from the forest to the hospital with no map, no Sat Nav and Charlie weeping copiously in the back.
Whiskey in a plastic cup was the furtive treat in A&E as they sat side by side – her ankle swelling to pumpkin proportions – getting steadily merrier and merrier.
X-Ray machines gave Charlie the creeps; they always had done, and Joe held her hand as she screwed up her eyes through the procedure.
‘“Yankee”,’ smiled Joe, ‘is your favourite film, and we haven’t seen it for ages – we’ll watch it at the weekend, with buckets of ice cream and gallons of coca cola.’
‘“Zulu” is your favourite film, though,’ she sighed as she leaned her head on his shoulder, the familiar sensation of her cheek against his collarbone soothing her, comforting him, and making them both realise that familiarity doesn’t breed contempt: sometimes, it breeds love.

Comments

Great challenge! I really enjoyed this - it really was a challenge. Trying to think of the sentences was hard enough, but using punctuation to keep a sentence going without having to use a new sentence was even tougher!

I decided to step up the challenge a little, though, in that the first word of each sentence is also each letter's Police Alphabet codeword (I hope you don't mind - I like making things hard for myself!!)

---

Great job, LR.  Especially liked the line:   after all, if (as he suspected) their relationship was failing in the best of circumstances, how could it survive here?

How true.  If you fumble on the small stuff, what will you do if faced with a real problem?

---

As soon as I noticed what you were doing, I smiled. Nice job.

---

I like your use of the phonetic alphabet. A pleasant, romantic tale.

Answer 4

August was always a depressing time of Zach, no matter what the weather.
Behind the glass window he spent his days, staring our at the countryside, looking for inspiration.
Clouds drifted by fairly often, and his artistic flair could not depict anything from them, although he knew even a child could surpass him in creativity when he was in this state.
Depressed and lonely, the days dragged on without sign of any speck of light in his dismally dark tunnel, and he sunk further into himself.
Each day, each night he would stare down at his blank canvass, he would look up, and stare at the view from his quaint cottage.
Focusing harder and harder to draw from the picturesque countryside, but to no avail.
Good weather, bad weather, overcast or sunny had no effect, and as the hours passed each day, he seemed to spend more time thinking about his past than he did focusing on his art.
He thought of his wife.
Imagined her beautiful face, embracing her in his memories.
Julie, a name he would never forget, a woman who would live forever in his mind.
Knowing he could never hold her again drove him crazy, it was this that was sending him into this dark hole of depression.
Last year, Zach and Julie came to this cottage, and he would paint her a picture, as he had done each year for the past 23 years, of the countryside and her.
Minute details would always be captured each time he painted his wife, trying to out-do his last painting, attempting to capture his wife's beauty with his watercolours.
Nether the less, Julie would always be excited about his unveiling of the picture, always be shocked at how amazing it was, would always be grateful.
Over the months, these memories seemed to fade, but they still seemed vivid.
Part of him knew he should try move on, but how could he?
Quarreling within this own mind would drive him to insanity, he had to decide.
Reasoning with himself, he decided that if he could paint a picture, one that rivaled the beauty of his past artworks, he will be free of this depressing burden.
Surely he would always carry his memories of his late wife with him, but he could look back and smile now.
Those fond memories could be just that.
Unburdening himself took time, and so did his work as a result.
Very slowly, his weaving hand and careful strokes began to from something beautiful.
Without sorrow, his face held a smile, a smile reserved for those who were at peace within their mind as he marked the bottom of his painting.
XXIV- The Summer of Acceptance.
Your's always, as you shall always be mine.
Zach Summers

Comments

Sad but nice. I like how not one of the words seemed out of place, not even with the hard letters. Very well done.

Answer 5

“Attention, you maggots!” came a cry that echoed throughout the farm.

Barnyard animals came from every direction to line up.

Colonel Chicken was standing in front of the line of animals, preparing for the day’s tasks.

“Destiny. This is the sole purpose we are here! We are within this farm! Destiny, fate, whatever you want to call it...”

“Every time,” Sally Sheep whispered to her partner Sam, who both seemed rather used to what was going on.

“... forget anything else. You know the drill,” yammered on Colonel Chicken.

Gary the Goat let out a small noise and the chicken was right in his face.

“Have something to say do we, Sergeant Gary?” The goat simply shook his head.

“I have no time for games, people. We all have a job to do and some of you are slacking! This is not acceptable...”

“Just get it over with,” someone shouted from the back to a rather bemused Colonel.

Keep in mind that the Colonel was known as the toughest chicken in the land, it was quite rare to see him like this.

“Let’s... let’s just get our jobs done.” With that, everyone dispersed, even though they knew what to do.

“Mate needs to loosen up a bit, don’t you think?” Perry Pig mumbled as he made his way back to the sty with the others.

“Not likely,” another pig mentioned, snorting loudly with laughter.

“Only you would laugh at that, you idiot,” Perry stated, looking over at the culprit.

Percy Pig, of course. The only one to think he was the clown of the pigs.

“Quiet down, you two. It’s breakfast time.” Priscilla was their mother and the only one the boys listened to.

Round the other side of the farm, Colonel Chicken was talking to his superior. People only knew him as The Cock.

“Sorry sir, I didn’t see you at line up. Sorry for prolonging the speech. I guess I get carried away.”

“Testing my patience, Colonel. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Understood, sir.” The Colonel made his way back to his quarters to do his part for the day’s chores.

“Vile bastard,” mumbled the Colonel as he waddled back to the pen, quite angry that The Cock had shown his ugly face at line-up. He entered the pen and looked around.

“What are you lot looking at? Lay those damned eggs, women.” He wasn’t in a good mood at all. He strode over to the machine that the egg’s went through. It was a machine to see if the eggs were fertilized or not.

“X-ray’s broken again. Someone fix this thing!” Things were just getting worse for Colonel Chicken. It was a bad omen. Suddenly, the farmer came in with a butcher’s knife clutched in his hand.

“You’re next!” He pointed at Colonel Chicken as he grabbed him by the neck and took him out of the pen towards his house. He was going to be tomorrow’s lunch.

Zach the farmer and his family sat down to a nice meal of chicken and potatoes the next day. Everything seemed a lot quieter and peaceful on the farm without Colonel Chicken. The moral: what goes around, comes around.

Comments

Very nice. And it made me laugh.

---

Loved it! Very Animal Farm without the political views. :)

Answer 6

Although
Being
Caught
Doesn't
Ever
Feel
Good,
Hell
I
Just
Know
Lying
Makes
Nobody
Offer
Praise.
Questions
Raised,
Suspicions,
Trepidations,
Usually
Vary
With
Xenphobia,
Young
Zach.

Comments

Er... I don't really know what that was, I just wanted to try it. I think it failed, though, it doesn't really make sense. And it has little to do with the challenge. Forgive me, it's late. :S

---

I thought it was pretty good.  I was expecting to see "five" as the writer.

---

brief and intriguing...that should make sense for a reader ;)

---

Very cool. Spots.  I don't even care what Xenophobia is.

---

Awesome idea, and it made sense to me. :)

Answer 7

Abercrombie and Fitch is owned by the Air Force.

Before pre-historic time’s nudity was the norm and clothes took a back seat to debauchery.  Capable of monsterly mayhem the Neanderthal took it upon himself to take skins from animals and cover himself.  During the earliest “human” times in what was once one giant continent man advanced his cover to a more modest mode.  Easily impressed by the diversity of style, clothing evolved over time as ways to impress or depress the opposite sex.  Finding out about the psychological impression that clothing could have designers emerged and they in turn indoctrinated people for a hefty profit.  Goading the public into believing that their stylish clothes were worth a pretty penny when in reality they were made by the same third world countries out of the same material that “normal” clothes were made out of the “designers” continued to churn out a new “line” every year to increase their profit margins.  Happy to own the “latest” apparel Susie wrecked her household budget when buying her prom dress.  Idiocy, lunacy and fallacy are all common denominators that could be used to describe the current ecosocionomic fashion market.  Japan is constantly craving American fashions, but if they only knew that 20 percent of the clothes they buy was made in their very own country.  Kilroy was here!  Lending credence to the belief that you must “dress to impress” our world leaders wear the stylish clothes befitting kings.  Managing to dress down in today’s society is nearly impossible as the box store clothing departments have turned into sectional advertisements for the higher priced clothing.  Nothing could be further from the truth than the saying, “Clothes make the man”; it actually should be the other way around.  Opening a package at Christmas when we were young either brought sorrow or joy; we knew it was either clothes or a toy.  Permeating the very fabric of our humanity clothes have become powerful restraints on our individuality.  Quality of materials used in clothing nowadays is remarkably poor; bring back the good old days of real denim and cotton not treated with toxic chemicals.  Really, do women have to wear shoes with that high of a heel?  Satisfying finally your burning desire to understand the title of my tome I now give you the details.  The truth behind the real Abercrombie and Fitch clothing line is a well-guarded secret.  Understanding it puts you at risk of death or indoctrination into the armed forces.  Various safeguards are in place to thwart attempts at sabotage or finding out their secrets.  Warehouses on Air Force bases globally have special rooms where AF clothes (Abercrombie Fitch) are stored and distributed to middlemen around the world.  X-rays of oversized crates carried on Air Force Carriers reveal said clothing.  Young men and women buy the AF clothing in stores and the clothing carries symbols and words that send subliminal messages to their brains to “JOIN THE AIR FORCE!”

Zero percent of this story is true and in no means qualifies me for the looney bin.

Comments

In answer to your question, yes it is necessary for us to wear that high of a heel.  It gives us confidence.  We walk a little taller.  Helps us to look people in the eye...like...literally.  With the right heel I can get all the way up to 5-foot-8.  :)

---

And Hot Topic is owned by Hollister. True statement. I liked the story, it gave food for thought, maybe not about the Air Force and Abercrombie and Fitch, but about the obsession with clothing that today faces. Good read :) And yes, I agree with inked. We do have to wear them that high. Especially shorties like me that have two heights. My shoe height (5'2") And my heel height (5'6"). :)

---

I have three pairs of footwear...1. tennis shoes (Nike under 50$)  2.  work shoes (slip resistant Walmart 24$)  and 3.  Hunting boots (been wearing the same pair so long I forget how much they cost or where I got them).  You women and your shoes...:)

---

Ooh...my two favorite things!  Shoes and lists about shoes.  You asked for this Doug.  I own two pairs of sneakers, but I have to retire one pair because I weedeated...weedate...I mangled one pair with the weedeater this past weekend.  Don't ask.  Two pairs of pointy-toed pumps.  One pair of regular pumps with a giraffe print.  Two pairs of open-toed pumps.  Two pairs of slingbacks.  Three pairs of strappy espradilles (it's like a wedge heel).  One pair of pointy-toed high-heeled boots.  One pair of motorcycle boots although I don't have a motorcycle.  One pair of cowgirl boots although I don't have cows.  One pair of pink Uggs.  Three pairs of flip-flops.  Two pairs of Chuck Taylor Converse Allstars.  Two pairs of kitten-heel sandals.  And two pairs of ballet slippers.  Oh, and rain boots.  And a fuzzy pair of snow boots.  I think that's all.  Thanks, Doug, for giving me the shameless opportunity to talk about my shoe addiction and simultaneously prove your point.  :)

---

Your welcome inked!

Answer 8

“As long as you always tell me the truth, I will never leave you.”
But before I could open my mouth to say anything, she kissed me, and I melted into her arms.
“Come clean,” she said as she pulled her lips away from mine, “there isn’t anything you could say to make me stop loving you.”
“Don’t be so sure,” I mumbled.
Every time I worked up the nerve to tell her I would end up talking myself out of it.
“Forget it,” I said, chickening out once again, “it’s nothing.”
Good intentions would have to wait as we were on our way out to celebrate our half anniversary which also happened to fall on December 24th, and I didn’t want to ruin the date or the holiday.
Happiness had been very elusive for a man like me, but in the past six months I felt as though I had finally found it.
I loved her so much.
Just looking into her eyes, I could tell that she felt the same way.
Knowing it killed me, and I couldn’t keep on lying to her anymore.
“Look, I need to know if you really mean that because there is something that I really need to get off my chest.”
“My goodness,” she said with a laugh,” you weren’t like a serial killer or anything were you?”
“No.”
“Okay so just spit it out so we can get on with our night.”
Perspiration beaded onto my temples and the palms of my hands; there was no going back now.
Quickly, before I could change my mind, I blurted, “I was born with a different name.”
“Really now…was it something horribly embarrassing?” she asked with a curious smile on her face.
“Sort of I guess…”
“Tell me what it was!” her eyes were wide with anticipation, the kind of anticipation you feel before the punch line of a good joke.
Under the circumstances, I wished I could tell her that I was joking to keep from crushing her.
“Vivian…my name used to be Vivian.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waiting is the worst part of my existence now.
Xmas was the first day in six months that we spent apart, and five more have passed since I told her my big secret.
Yearning to hear her sweet voice, I wait patiently by the phone night after night for her to call and keep her promise.
Zilch…nothing…nada…and the sad irony is that deep down in a part of me long forgotten…I totally understand how she feels.

Comments

Great story but I did predict the ending.  You used the alphabet masterfully!

---

I know.  I was thinking as I finished it that it was too predictable.  But then I thought, "I figured out a way to use the letter 'x' so screw it!!!"  Lol.

---

Perfect comment to mine, priceless.

---

Very nice. :)

Answer 9

Knock off for the fun of it.

After
Babies
Cry,
Daddies
Evolve
For
Good.........
Just
Karma
Love.......
Mince
Now
Only
Principle........
Question
Rhetoric!.........
Sample
Tastelessness!.......
Under
Valuable
Warnings,
Xerox
Your
Zipper!.........

Answer 10

I know this is really lame, but I found it quite amusing as I'm trying to wind down to nap time...

Antihistimine Benydryl copied dangerously each fortnight gilding habitual idiots jumping kneehigh laterally.  Manufacturers never open parachutes quickly.  Radical satanic temptresses understand very well x-ray yodeling.  

Zee end!

Comments

Hah, it's quite funny. Better than mine I think. And it looks like it came easier to you, though that may not be so.