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Hotchpotch

microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
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microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
Don't you wish it was electric
Joined: March 31st, 2007, 3:58 pm

October 12th, 2007, 12:50 pm #1

We (and by we, we're not referring to the Royal Plural, but to myself and Cassandra) thought we'd introduce a new fun thread onto the board .... the Tag N/H Story Thread.

Note: This thread is intended as a piece of fun and is not an attempt to emulate or compete with any of the great stories written on this site.

Idea is basically a round robin storytelling where everyone can add a paragraph to the Nikki & Helen story. The idea is therefore not that anyone takes on a particular role and/or setting, but that you just develop the story further by adding on to what the previous person has written. Makes sense? By restricting posting to a paragraph, hopefully the story shouldn't take up too much time and will keep going. We guess only time will tell.

A few simple rules .....
  • Open to everyone (writers & non-writers alike)
  • Only post one paragraph per person (per turn, of course)
  • Five lines of dialogue can be counted as one paragraph
  • No double posting
  • Only post if no-one else is in the middle of posting
  • Under 18s storylines only (please, we didn't put a warning on the lable!)
  • Most importantly of all it should be FUN!
Seeing as the prologue will set the mood/feeling for the initial direction of the story, we took a bilateral decision that it can be slightly longer...

So please join in and add a paragraph to the story every now and then.

Disclaimer: Shed Productions made the characters, wrote the original stories, and have full copyright to them. We are using these characters simply for non-profit, entertainment value. The same goes for any other known copyrighted character/storyline where a cross over fiction is written.

No animals, plants, fungi, bacteria, viri, spores, seeds or any other living things were harmed during the making of this disclaimer. Further no environmental damage was caused to any ecosphere, existing or nonexistent. All electrons used in the production were strictly volunteers, and all paper was made by trees that died of natural causes. Of course we steered clear of any and all elephants as well!

We are happy to accept comment in a PM, but am not looking for any criticism (negative or positive) either publicly or privately--only general encouragement .... (The comments-in-a-PM is just to make sure that comments do not get confused with the story itself and for no other particular reason!)

PS If you feel inspiration welling up in the pit of your stomach, but you just can't quite get to the words yet, no problem! Just "book your space" by posting a reply to that effect and then return later with your paragraph. Then you simply edit your post by removing the "booked space" post and replace it with your addition to the story. Simple as that! Of course we would ask people to please respect a "booked space" by not posting until such time that the "booked space" has been replaced.

Questions or confusion? Please PM either myself or Cassandra and we'll be glad to assist you! Please don't book your space via PM, you can do that in the thread itself.
Make a HOTCH in the POTCH...
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Cassandra
Don't you wish it was electric
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Cassandra
Don't you wish it was electric
Don't you wish it was electric
Joined: March 21st, 2007, 2:28 pm

October 12th, 2007, 12:51 pm #2

Prologue

The shrill ring of a phone broke the silence. Nikki woke with a jump, heart pounding and sweat trickling down her face. She felt groggy as she struggled to keep her gritty eyes open. The surrounding darkness was disorientating and for a moment she thought she was still asleep. A restless sleep whilst reliving that same dream which had both haunted and tortured her over the past year. The extreme cold brought her back to reality causing her to shiver uncontrollably. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she realised that the hard chair beneath her was digging into the small of her back. She moved slightly to alleviate the pressure then yelped as pain shot along her stiff neck. No, this was most definitely not a dream.

Suddenly she tensed as she could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Her mouth felt dry as they became louder. She remained motionless even though her mind was screaming for her to move. Yet she was powerless to react, staring transfixed at the door like a rabbit caught in on-coming headlights. The door was flung open causing her to be momentarily blinded. Screwing her eyes up, she could just make out the silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway. Nikki’s heart skipped a beat. “Who are you?” she whispered. Was it her? Had she really found the woman who pervaded her every thought?



Chapter One
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microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
Don't you wish it was electric
microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
Don't you wish it was electric
Joined: March 31st, 2007, 3:58 pm

October 12th, 2007, 9:11 pm #3

Helen stood with the envelope in her hand for what seemed like ages. She just knew that a sensible woman would not open it, that a sensible woman would just throw it away and move on. But, then again, when had she ever been sensible? So she opened it. As she took the card out, a photo fell to the floor.
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Joined: May 23rd, 2007, 5:27 am

October 15th, 2007, 4:31 pm #4

Helen was never interested in these kinds of things; as far as she was concerned, they were a complete waste of time. Once again, like every year before she was standing with the invitation in her hand. She bent down to pick up the photo that fell out of the envelope. "What is this?" Helen questioned aloud

---
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?For it was not into my ear you whispered but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.? Judy Garland

Ste ovde, Ja to znam
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microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
Don't you wish it was electric
microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
Don't you wish it was electric
Joined: March 31st, 2007, 3:58 pm

October 15th, 2007, 6:21 pm #5

Helen turned the photo over. It was a black and white photo of two kids, a boy and a girl. The girl looked slightly familiar, but she had no idea who the boy was or when and where the photo was taken. She also had no idea how old the photo was or why it was sent to her. For a brief moment she thought that maybe the envelope was not addressed to her at all, but there it was, her name and address in a fairly non-descript handwriting. Frowning, she turned her attention to the card.
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Cassandra
Don't you wish it was electric
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Joined: March 21st, 2007, 2:28 pm

October 15th, 2007, 10:58 pm #6

It was her annual invitation to the “Lindsay House Trust” Charity Ball, sponsored by the HM Prison Service. In spite of her hatred of formal functions, Helen knew that the charity was a worthwhile cause which provided 'halfway houses' and essential rehabilitation for female offenders. After recent events, she was somewhat surprised that she had been included on the guest list. Her only social saving grace was perhaps her connection to the esteemed judge, Sir Charles Parr. Even though she was expecting it, she struggled to contain her anger as she read 'Guest Speaker: Jim Fenner, Acting Wing Governor, Larkhall Prison.' But it was the enigmatic, hand-written scribble at the very bottom of the invitation which caught her eye. And there it was. Written carelessly and in red ink .... 'Count your days, Jim Fenner!'
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Joined: May 23rd, 2007, 5:27 am

October 16th, 2007, 6:39 am #7

To say that Helen was stunned by the scribble was an understatement, ‘Who would write that? Moreover, who would be so careless to do that on an invitation? Was it someone trying to make contact with me? Are they trying to show allegiance? I want to meet you who ever you are. Such a bold statement.’ these were all the thoughts that ran through her head while she fingered the red ink. Unconsciously Helen memorised the handwriting, every lilt, every curve right down to the slightest wavering of the pen. Helen had an ally, but the question remained ‘Who are they?’
?For it was not into my ear you whispered but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.? Judy Garland

Ste ovde, Ja to znam
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microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
Don't you wish it was electric
microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
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Joined: March 31st, 2007, 3:58 pm

October 16th, 2007, 4:00 pm #8

Helen poured herself a Scotch. Sitting down, she looked at the little note on the card and frowned for the umpteenth time. Trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle, she returned her attention to the photo. Who is this? she thought. She focused her attention on the little girl in the photo. She did look a bit like Nikki, but Helen just couldn't be sure. And if it was Nikki, who was the little boy then? And how did a childhood photo of Nikki bear any relevance to the note? It just didn't make sense, no matter how she looked at it. Feeling more confused than ever, Helen took a sip of her Scotch and felt the smooth liquid running down her throat and settling in her stomach, causing her to relax somewhat.
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Cassandra
Don't you wish it was electric
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Joined: March 21st, 2007, 2:28 pm

October 16th, 2007, 8:47 pm #9

’This photo must be important,’ she eventually decided. ’Perhaps the mysterious sender intends to contact me at the Ball and explain its significance. In the meantime I’ll keep it safe but hidden.’ Possibly the sender didn't have enough time to write a clearer message or was simply trying to get her attention. ’Well they definitely succeeded there,’ she thought. Any chance that Fenner might get his comeuppance was of great interest to Helen. ’Enough time?’ she mused. Her ally must have had access to the charity invitations, however briefly. Perhaps she should pay Monica a visit in the morning. And maybe ... just maybe .... this time she'll summon up enough courage to ask about Nikki.
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microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
Don't you wish it was electric
microsofty
Don't you wish it was electric
Don't you wish it was electric
Joined: March 31st, 2007, 3:58 pm

October 21st, 2007, 8:53 am #10

Helen tucked both the photo and the invite safely in to a drawer on her nightstand. Not knowing what to do next, she sat on the bed, staring in to the nothingness. Trying to stop her mind from running around in circles (which it seemed to do quite a lot these days), she flicked on the TV. It was a rerun of Oprah about some upliftment work in Africa. On the best of days Helen couldn't care less about Oprah, but today she was quite drawn to the story of the little children in the Congo who seemed to have no future. She was staring at the screen for what seemed like hours before she realised that she was crying. She knew she wasn't crying about the children in Africa, but she was also unable to stop the stream of tears that racked her body and kept flowing down her cheeks.
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