Random words generated at creativitygames.net.
So my story writing exercises continue. I use random words and produce a story in one sitting.
Here are today’s words: night…Indian…bowl…dock…metal detector…ravioli
This is my story:
The intricately carved wooden bowl was definitely Indian. Dagmar found it at the bottom of a box marked $1.00. The Flea Market was packed and as she dug for four quarters, she felt faint from all the commotion around her. Dagmar despised disorder and the scrambling and grabbing were almost too much to bear. But Rumpus would have the most stylish water bowl ever. That is, if Dagmar could get through the crowd and safely home.
She was known as D.K. at the office. Dagmar had always disliked her name and D.K. sounded more CEO-ish. Rumpus was her elderly black and white cat. Actually, her cat was Rumpus III. Dagmar knew that the name was cool and didn’t think it should be wasted on just one cat. All of the others had been black and white, as well.
“If it works, don’t fix it.” was one of her favorite philosophies.
As she drove home along the water front, she noticed the same guy that she had seen every morning on the beach with a metal detector. This time he was digging furiously in one spot. He was waist deep in sand and looked very tired. She realized that she’d always secretly found him handsome. He certainly wasn’t her type at all, of course. Cutoff jeans, a tank top and a ponytail. She’d be the laughing-stock at the office with a man like that.
D.K. knew him only to wave to. Heck, she didn’t even know his name but her curiosity won and she pulled her efficient little electric car to the dock. It was odd to see him at the beach on Sunday, though.
She was hardly dressed for beach combing. Italian heels and a coral-colored suit. What was wrong with her anyway? She’d had her short mahogany hair permed only yesterday and the sun and wind would be her ruin. As she thought better of this rare spontaneity and was about to pull away, he waved at her.
It must have been meant for her. When she looked over her shoulder, there was no one else to claim it.
She waved back and while she considered her next move, he motioned for her to join him.
“Now what have I done.” she groaned.
Dagmar stepped out of the car. She planned her path to the beachfront in her head as she wobbled awkwardly into the sand.
“I must be crazy. He’s probably burying a body!” she said under her breath.
Her inner voice spoke to her. “Calm down Dagmar, you’ve been watching too many movies on the Lifetime channel. It’s broad daylight after all.”
This is when she slipped off her heels and knee highs and decided to continue. Her many years of order and prim were vanishing and she found the whole process very scary but amazingly scintillating. Her heart was pounding and several times as she walked forward, she almost turned and ran back to her car, to her comfortable self.
When she reached the man and stood beside the hole, Dagmar was out of breath, mostly from excitement. Her fear faded quickly when the man smiled at her with faint laugh lines emphasizing the deepest brown eyes she’d ever seen.
“Hey. I’ve been trying to get you to stop for sometime now. You’re D.K. Frost, right?”
“Why yes, that’s me. How do you know my name?”
“I’ve been hunting more than treasure on this beach. My name’s Brad. Nice to meet you D.K.” He offered a sandy hand and she took it.
Dagmar felt herself melting. The order, the schedules, the neatness suddenly all seemed very silly to her.
“You can call me Dagmar, Brad. What are you digging exactly?”
“At the chance of creeping you out and scaring you away, I must admit there’s nothing here I wanted more than to meet you. This hole was meant to stir your curiosity since I have noticed you watching my daily rituals from afar. I’ve been wanting to introduce myself. I live over there in the blue beach house. I’m a judge in the fourth circuit and really don’t care to know “beach babes”. Hope that doesn’t sound hopelessly sexist.”
Dagmar couldn’t believe her ears. This wonderful man had wanted to meet her all along. She’d been so busy judging his appearance that she had ignored her gut attraction. Seems she had been ignoring many things in her life.
Later that night, they were both still on the beach. They built a campfire and were sharing a can of cold raviolis with one plastic fork from her glove box. There was a palpable sensual air around the couple but they were both dignified and happy to take it slowly.
As they sat shoulder to shoulder with the pounding surf serenading them, Dagmar turned to Brad and asked, “Do you like cats?”