Toning Exercises

[pprmint777]

If you're feeling industrious, take a simple Saturday afternoon drive and turn it into three different works: suspense, comedy, and drama.

Whatever props/characters you use in one have to be in all three--only the tone should change.

Have fun!

[harboredhope]

I just finished writing my three stories. However, the total word count is just under 2000. I don't want to crash the server <grin>, so I'll post them as three different replies. Forgive me if I've broken a "word limit" rule.

[harboredhope]

Red painted fingernails drummed on the steering wheel as the pale blue Camaro ate up the miles. The song on the radio was a favorite 70s rock classic, but she didn’t really hear it. The butterflies in her stomach once again began to flutter and she swore she would never go on another blind date as long as she lived.

Mark was a friend of her brother’s and had called last night offering dinner and a chance to see Chicago perform at Red Rocks Amphitheater. Dinner she could take or leave, but Chicago had been her favorite band for more decades than she cared to admit. She sensed the meddling hand of her brother in this one.

Slowing the car, she took the Morrison exit off C470. Glancing again at the note laying on the passenger seat, she tried for the umpteenth time to picture exactly where this restaurant was. It must have been more years than she thought since her last visit to Morrison, because there had never been a restaurant at gate 3 to Red Rocks Park.

She crept through the little city at the required 25 miles per hour. The streets were always overflowing with tourists and bikers and today was no different. In no time she was at the other edge of town and one turn from her destination. Slowing to turn right she noticed the shiny black Jeep and the handsome middle aged cowboy leaning up against it.

It took some effort, but she pulled her eyes from the sight of those well fitting jeans and searched the vicinity for a restaurant. But, as she had remembered, the only building at this entrance was the wedding chapel. She rolled her window down and pulled to a stop near the man. “I’m suppose to be...” he interrupted her to say, “You must be Pam.” For a moment she forgot to breathe but couldn’t help gawking. The man was gorgeous. He chuckled and leaned forward, bracing one hand on the roof of the Camaro, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

His attitude pulled her from her stupor. Clearing her throat she replied with a smile, “Yes I am, and you must be Mark. Nice to meet you.” He took her extended hand, holding it a bit longer than necessary. Her eyes twinkled as she teased, “Are you hiding the restaurant in the back of your Jeep?” He winked at her and replied, “Follow me.”

They pulled into the parking lot of the little wedding chapel. She must have looked as confounded as she felt when he opened her door because his tone was assuring as he said, “It’s around back.” Like a sleep walking child, she allowed him to lead her by the hand. Her cousin’s wedding had been at this chapel a few years back and there was just no way a restaurant would fit behind the building.

Rounding the corner she planted her feet and took in the scene. The wind was dancing the flaps on the little tent gazebo. She could just catch a glimpse of candle light inside. He tugged at her hand and they slipped under the enclosure. “My sister owns the place so she let me borrow the grounds for the evening. I’ve always figured I’d be coming to this little wedding chapel once I met the right lady.” She silently said, “Thank you, God.”

[harboredhope]

Red painted fingernails drummed on the steering wheel as the pale blue Camaro clamored along the highway. The song on the radio was a rowdy 70s rock classic, but only her sense of rhythm heard it. The butterflies that had been cartwheeling in her stomach were now doing kamikaze dives and she swore she would never go on another blind date as long as she lived.

Mark was a friend of her brother’s and had called last night offering dinner and a chance to see Chicago perform at Red Rocks Amphitheater. Eating on dates was a no no in her book (“Oh I’m not very hungry, I’ll just take a small salad and ice water”), but Chicago had been her favorite in 8track, cassette and now CD. She sensed the meddling hand of her brother in this one.

Slowing the car, she took the Morrison exit off C470. Luckily the cop sitting at the intersection was busy filling out reports, because she nearly took out a light pole as she attempted to put her reading glasses on. Grabbing the directions off the passenger seat, she tried for the umpteenth time to picture exactly where this restaurant was. It must have been more years than she thought since her last visit to Morrison, because there had never been a restaurant at gate 3 to Red Rocks Park. She figured with her luck they had erected a shiny new Mc Donald’s...that would be about her luck.

She crept through the little city at the required 25 miles per hour, dodging j-walking tourists and giving wide berth to the intimidating bikers. Thankfully it was only a two light town and soon she was one turn from her destination. Slowing to turn right she noticed the shiny black Jeep and the handsome middle aged cowboy leaning up against it. She nearly drove into the ditch.

It took some effort, but she pulled her eyes from the sight of those well fitting jeans and searched the vicinity for a restaurant. Apparently he had jelly sandwiches and chips in the back of his Jeep . She rolled her window down and pulled to a stop near the man. “I’m suppose to be...” he interrupted her to say, “You must be Pam.” For a moment she forgot to breathe but couldn’t help gawking. The man was gorgeous. He chuckled and leaned forward, bracing one hand on the roof of the Camaro, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

His attitude pulled her from her stupor. Clearing her throat she replied with a smile, “Yes I am, and you must be Mark but there is no way you’re single.” He took her extended hand, holding it a bit longer than necessary. His eyes twinkled as he teased, “Oh I’m single and your brother has told me all kinds of interesting things about you.” He winked at her and replied, “Follow me, dinner’s waiting.” Swallowing hard she made a mental note to whack her brother the next time she saw him.

They pulled into the parking lot of the little wedding chapel. When he opened her door she just sat there, he grinned. When he took her hand, she tried to pull it back, he chuckled. “It’s around back.” Under her breathe she muttered, “sure it is”. But he heard and laughed out loud, drawing a raised eyebrow from her. She followed him, like a sheep being led to slaughter. Her cousin’s wedding had been at this chapel a few years back and there was just no way a restaurant would fit behind the building.

Rounding the corner she planted her feet, and took in the scene. It was like a scene out of some romantic Walt Disney cartoon. White tent Gazebo. Candles flickering inside. All that was missing were the cute little blue birds, Bambi, and the furry bunnies. She shook her head and snapped her mouth shut. “My sister owns the place so she let me borrow the grounds for the evening. I’ve always figured I’d be coming to this little wedding chapel once I met the right lady.” She threw up her hands and shouted “Hallelujah”.

[harboredhope]

Red painted fingernails drummed on the steering wheel as the pale blue Camaro ate up the miles. The song on the radio was a favorite 70s rock classic, but she didn’t really hear it. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to be pounding out a beat of dread and she blinked back the tears remembering how cruel her last blind date had turned out to be.

Mark was a friend of her brother’s and had called last night offering dinner and a chance to see Chicago perform at Red Rocks Amphitheater. It sounded wonderful, yet the phone calls always did. The thought of eating made her nauseous, but Chicago had been her favorite band through the good times and the bad. She suspected her brother had done more than just share her phone number.

Slowing the car, she took the Morrison exit off C470. Glancing again at the note laying on the passenger seat, she tried for the umpteenth time to picture exactly where this restaurant was. It must have been more years than she thought since her last visit to Morrison, because there had never been a restaurant at gate 3 to Red Rocks Park. This had all the markings of a cruel joke.

She crept through the little city at the required 25 miles per hour. The streets were always crowded with tourists and leather clad bikers. Today was no different. All too soon she was at the other edge of town and one turn from...she didn’t want to think about it. Slowing to turn right she noticed the black Jeep and the man leaning up against it.

She didn’t give him a second glance, but instead searched the vicinity for a restaurant. She shook her head, berating herself for falling prey again. There was no restaurant, only a little wedding chapel. She worked up her courage and rolled her window down as she pulled to a stop near the man. “I’m suppose to meet...” he interrupted her to say, “You must be Pam.” A flash of panic stabbed her heart, hearing her name from a stranger’s mouth. When he walked toward her car, she sat frozen, like a deer in the headlights. “I’m sorry to have startled you. My name is Mark and I believe we spoke last night.”

His gentle tone and kind eyes calmed her. Clearing her throat she replied with a smile, “Yes we did. It’s nice to meet you, Mark.” He extended his hand, holding hers a bit longer than necessary. The silence drew out and she wished she could think of something to say. He broke the silence saying, “Well, dinner is getting cold. Follow me, it’s not far.” She watched him walk back to his truck and turned her head away quickly when he looked back.

They pulled into the parking lot of the little wedding chapel. She must have looked as suspicious as she felt when he opened her door because his tone was assuring when he said, “It’s around back.” Like a sleep walking child, she allowed him to lead her by the hand. Her cousin’s wedding had been at this chapel a few years back and there was no way a restaurant was behind the building.

Rounding the corner she gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand. She had only seen such a romantic setting in the movies. The wind was dancing the flaps on the little tent gazebo. She could just catch a glimpse of candle light inside. He turned and took her other hand. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. He spoke reassuringly, “My sister owns this place so I was able to borrow the grounds for the evening. I’ve always figured I’d be coming to this little wedding chapel once I met the right lady.” God’s hand seemed to stretch down and bless this scene as one of his lonely children and one of his broken children were united for his glory.

[pprmint777]

I love them! Any of the three--pick one and turn it into a novel!