I'll Never Agree

        Three best-selling authors sat at the conference table. Hundreds of people had crowded into the room. Some stood by the door.

        Sarah Garcia, the only woman on the panel, sipped bottled water. What’s a nice introvert like me doing here?

        The moderator started the discussion. “What is your writing process?”

        The first two authors used outlines. One wrote summaries for each scene.

        Then it was Sarah’s turn. “My characters write the story.”

        The men smirked. “Characters are figments of your imagination,” one said.

        “They are real to me.”

        “Amateur.”

        “Even if you prove me wrong, I’ll never agree with you.”

Let’s read what the other’s wrote.  

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Cheeky Stowaway

        Who’s coming? Crouched in the cold, dark locker, Perce hoped he hadn’t been discovered. He kept absolutely still as the footsteps got louder.

        Suddenly the door swung open. “Jig’s up,” the sailor said.  

        Perce Blackborow fell forward. After hiding in the cramped locker for days, he couldn’t stand. He was dragged to a chair.

        Captain Shackleton scowled. “Do you know that on these expeditions we often get very hungry, and if there is a stowaway available, he is the first to be eaten?”

        “They’d get a lot more meat off you, sir.”

        Shackleton grinned. “Introduce him to the cook first.”

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Love Conquers All

        Prime Minister Baldwin paced the floor, waiting to be admitted. He had no choice but to offer the king an ultimatum. At last, Edward invited him into his office, and the prime minister began with a plea. “Don’t do it, Edward.”

        “I’m sorry it upsets you, but I’m marrying her.”

        Baldwin sighed. “She’s a divorced woman—an  American.”

        “I love her. I can’t live without her.”

        “You’ll have to abdicate the throne.”

        “Then I must.”

         “Love’s blind. It fades.” Baldwin waved his arms in desperation. “What did Shakespeare say?”

        Edward smiled. “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

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What Letter?

        “The prisoner will rise.”

        Chains at Sean’s wrists and ankles clanked as he stood to face the judge.

        “How do you plead?” Judge Witherspoon asked. He wore a curly wig that shed white powder on his black robe.

        “Not guilty, your honor.” Sean glanced about the courtroom, hoping to see a friend.

        His accuser glared back, a farmer named Paddy O’Toole.  “He stole my best milk cow.”

        “What proof do you have?” the judge asked.

        “The letter.”

        Judge Witherspoon shuffled through the papers on his desk. “What letter?”

        “Plain as day. The “C” on his forehead where Bessie kicked him.”

Now let’s see what the others wrote with this prompt: