The Robin is Round…

As a silly way to celebrate hitting the 50K mark (a blogger milestone of sorts, I suppose) I had an idea. I’ve probably got the rules all screwed up – but, here’s the deal…

A few years back I was involved in an online writing group and sometimes we did these little exercises called round robins. Which really is just a gang story. It goes like this: Someone starts with the first paragraph or two and then it switches to the next guy and the next guy and the next guy – and so on.

I thought it would be cool if you guys would play this game with me. I’ll start – then you guys can add a paragraph or two in the comments section. I will keep track and when we either reach an obvious ending or it gets totally out of hand, we’ll be done. Then I will post the completed co-story (or whatever it turns out to be).

So…what do you think? Want to play? Jump in and add  your two cents to my paragraphs, then the next guy adds to the previous guys’ para’s and so on. Hope you’ll play. Here we go…

Marvin shook his freshly-popped popcorn into the big, orange bowl. The one with the crack in it. He put a movie in the player and settled into the big, easy chair. “Ahhh.”  And that was the last thing he remembered.

When he awoke, he saw his popcorn scattered on the living room floor, the bowl upended at his feet. The television was off and the house was silent. Except for one sound – a kind of scratching-tapping. “What is that?” He struggled out of the chair and shuffled down the hallway. The sound grew louder as he neared his bedroom. He stopped at the closed door – funny, he didn’t remember closing it, in fact, he never closed it. His heart jumped in his chest with each scratch-tap, his vision blurred with anticipation. “Stop being an ass, Marvin,” he scolded himself and threw open the bedroom door…

Okay folks, take it away. Hope somebody wants to play with me or I’ll look pretty stupid, huh?

WC

12 thoughts on “The Robin is Round…

  1. There he was. How he got into the house was unknown, his reasons for being there, not so mysterious. Marvin hadn’t seen him in four months, yet he was there, larger than life. Marking the wall, rhythmically with his penknife. Staring.
    “Why are you here?” asked Marvin.
    “I’m here for you. Because of you, what you did. See these marks? These are the days I was without light, because of you” replied the familiar stranger.
    “It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t even there- how can you blame me?” plead Marvin, growing increasingly alarmed, sweat beading on his brow and running in rivulets down his spine.

    Jess,
    I had a feeling you might be the first to jump in on this. Great para’s and a great start to what I hope will be a fun ride.
    WC

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  2. Marvin looked down at the man, from his face to his hand, bony and scabbed grasping his carving tool, then to his face again. Traces of the young boy with plump freckled cheeks were nowhere to be found in his face, not even in the eyes. Marvin didn’t know who this person was, but he sounded like his son Mitch, if Mitch had swallowed a handful of pebbles.
    Mitch looked up and Marvin. His eyes dark and vacant smirked at Marvin. His father looked scared. Good, thought Marvin. Now he knows how I felt.

    And Christine picks up the baton nicely, without missing a beat and continues the story along. Great!
    WC

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  3. A pale, scarred hand clasped his cheekbones with the dexterity only a blind man could possess. Bony fingers swept with tremulousness yet prescision over Marvin’s jaw. They flowed delicately up to his ears, then made a curve so they could feel out the tough ridge that was his brow. Mitch’s hand digressed from his father’s face, and stood at ease at his side.
    He knew his son was blind, but it felt like he was always looking at him. It was almost as if he could still see with his mind’s eye.
    (sorry if this sucks- you left me at a hard place.)

    Nice addition DT. It doesn’t suck at all. Besides, this is for fun. Good stuff.
    WC

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  4. Feeling his ritual scars tingling under his shirt, Marvin quickly realized what had to be done. It took a moment to type a special number into his cell phone, a number too secret to be stored in the device’s memory, but the call was answered almost instantly.
    “Go.”
    “This is Z984K. I need immediate support at my apartment.”
    That being enough, he hung up. To his son he said, “It’s good that your gift survived the torture. Don’t worry, you will have revenge.”
    the Grit
    WC, this looks like it may be a real hoot! I’ve played this game before and it didn’t go far, but I have high hopes for this one. Great idea.

    Great twist, Grit! Now I think we have the CIA or the FBI involved.

    Yes, it is a hoot. I’m hoping we get a lot of joiners. I’d love that.
    WC

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  5. Mitch smiled at his father, the way blind men do and let go of a little moan.
    Marvin didn’t know if he was onto him or not but he knew he only had to stall for a few minutes longer and then he would be safe.
    “Where the hell are they,” he said aloud without meaning to.
    “Who?” Mitch was suddenly alert.
    The door bell rang…

    Yoiks, Sarah –
    I’m getting awfully nervous for Marvin now. Nice!
    WC

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  6. Marvin remembered it- that day was branded into the wormy lobes of his brain forever.
    It happened four months prior to the day. Marvin was a drug dealer Washington, D.C.- he took it upon himself to distribute his product to the masses, to “free their minds” from reality.
    Things had been going well for the past few years. There was just one problem from him. The problem dressed himself flamboyantly in a white pantsuit, and surrounded himself with a smoky aura and an even smokier entourage. He was the crime lord of D.C., a fat weasel of a man who had a face to match the color of his soul- scarred and vehement.
    (If there’s something against posting twice, then delete this. Also, WC, don’t post anything until we’re done. I wanna see how this turns out!)

    Nope, no problem with posting twice. And I want to see where this goes, so I won’t post anything till we’re thru.
    WC

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  7. (NOTE THAT DOESN’T INVOLVE THE STORY BUT IS STILL IMPORTANT:
    Okay, this was bound to happen. Sarah posted while I was writing, so now my cheesy gangsta flashback doesn’t make sense. WC, definitely delete it, as well as this post. In the mean time, skip over that last paragraph, non-writerchick people. It’s conflicting.)

    No, I’m not going to delete either comment. We’ll just let the story go where it goes, no worries.

    I don’t understand this though: In the mean time, skip over that last paragraph, non-writerchick people. It’s conflicting.)

    What does it mean? Email me.
    WC

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  8. Hi WC,
    At this point things just have to branch out so:
    Mr. Smith hung up the phone, then type the ID code into his terminal with one hand, while pressing the button that summoned his assistant with the other. He scanned the information on the screen while he waited for her to knock once and enter.
    “Sir?”
    “We need an investigation team at,” he pressed the print key and nodded at the printer, “that address at once. Send a cleaner team too, just in case. Give them the ID of the Supervisor on duty with the most experience, then send that person here for instructions.”
    Smith leaned back in his leather chair and studied the information on the screen, while his assistant made her exit. This matter was listed as “settled.” It’s sudden emergence as an active case was going to cause problems. Lots of problems. Not to mention a long night for the man at the worry desk. He briefly thought about allowing himself the luxury of loosening his tie, but decided against it.
    the Grit

    Hey Grit,
    Thanks for jumping to try to breathe some more life into this. Any other takers out there? Come on folks, this is just for fun. 😉
    WC

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  9. As she shut the door behind her, Allison’s lips went crooked with satisfaction. She needed to reach her contact. Now that she had Marvin’s address things would be simpler. It was almost over now.
    Allison grabbed her purse and walked quickly to the restroom, taking care to look casual. She couldn’t afford to draw any attention to herself, they were too close. A quick call to Hammer and then comply with Smith’s orders. She still must get that crew over there. She had to play the part until it was truly finished.
    “We’ll show these bastards,” she thought as she dialed her contact, a thin wisp of smoke known to her only as “The Hammer”. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten such a name. She chuckled inside when she was first presented to him. So tiny, he was. Then she stopped once she looked him in the eyes, eyes like venomous snakes.
    Allison still didn’t know exactly why he was called the Hammer, but she had her ideas. She sent him a message. It took five seconds and she returned to her desk.
    To her cover.

    Hey Christine,
    Ah…and the plot thickens. Hmm, who is this Allison? I like that you threw in some female energy here. Good thinking. 😉
    Chica

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  10. Marvin grew increasingly restless – they should have been there by now. He had a time getting rid of the girl scout and her mother, trying to sell him cookies. “I’m a diabetic, I tell you,” he said and slammed the door in their surprised faces.
    “Father?” Mitch stood just a few feet from him in the hallway. Like an evil spectre back to haunt his life. He still held the knife at his side, silent and menacing.
    “I was just going to make us some coffee. Have a seat, I’ll bring it to you when it’s done,” Marvin stalled.
    Mitch stepped closer to Marvin, grinning like a hungry cat. “I’ll go with you. I love the smell of fresh coffee brewing.”
    Despite his hurried gait to the kitchen, Mitch was on his heels and never wavered. Marvin went straight away to make the coffee, while Mitch found a chair at the kitchen table.
    “So, it’s been a hard road, eh son?” Marvin asked, his back to Mitch. No reply. “I said…” he turned toward Mitch – who stared blankly at the ceiling his throat sliced open and gaping at him. “What the…”
    “You’ll get the same, if you make a sound,” the Hammer whispered in his ear.

    Wow Sarah, I never knew you had such violence in your soul. 😉 It’s always the quiet ones. 😆
    WC

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  11. Marvin’s eyes darted from Mitch to the the blood stained knife the intruder pointed in his direction. He suddenly realized that his life was also about to come to an end.
    The intruder stared at him with eyes that were like ice on fire. Suddenly with the movement of a cat, the dark figure leapt toward the open window and was gone as fast as he had appeared.
    Marvin continued to stare at the window and wondered why he was still alive and why Mitch had two smiles.

    Howdy Lord Crimson & thanks for jumping in to the fray. I loved the line ‘eyes that were like ice on fire’ great imagery.’

    To all my co-creators: Thanks for playing this little game with me – it was fun for me and I hope fun for you as well. I’ll finish this one out and post it later today. Comments are now officially closed.
    cloak & daggerly yours, 👿
    WC

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