We're not even going to discuss how bad this is.

So, my good friend Andy proposed a writing challenge that y'all can read about here and silly me accepted. Basically, 9 of us all submitted a Character A, Character B, a Situation, a Location, and an Opening Line. Then Andy switched them all up, and we had until today to made something vaguely sensible about it.

So instead of doing math homework, I wrote this... and it's bad, but hopefully you guys will forgive me. I'm sick! *pouts*

My story seeds:

CHARACTER A

An intrepid investigator

CHARACTER B

Trisha Patterson (aka Wynona Juggs) - A former adult entertainment star, now hiding her identity as the wife of a fundamentalist TV Evangelist.

THE SITUATION

[Character A] is the headliner at a spoken-word poetry festival.
[Character B] is sitting in the front row, burdened by a hatred of spoken-word poetry, while being strangely attracted to [Character A].

THE LOCATION

Sheboygan, Wisconsin (just because I've always thought it was a funny sounding name for a town)

THE OPENING LINE

Sitting there in the PTA meeting, unable to imagine a more mundane existence, completely disinterested in the speaker's words and in fact not hearing them at all, [Character B]'s mind wanders to her evening
plans: Complete and Total World Domination!




Sitting there in the PTA meeting, unable to imagine a more mundane existence, completely disinterested in the speaker's words and in fact not hearing them at all, Tricia's mind wandered to her evening plans: Complete and Total World Domination! She suppressed a cynical laugh. Hardly. More like surviving the evening. It was such a simple act, going to a PTA meeting at her daughter’s school, yet even here, she was afraid. Afraid to be recognized, afraid of what could happen to the safety net she’d built. It seemed so fragile.
On the seat next to her, her six-year old daughter Kelsey wavered in her seat, and Tricia knew she wouldn’t be awake much longer. Then again, it wasn’t fair to expect her to be—after all, as much as she enjoyed her kindergarten class, no six-year old wanted to sit and listen to school politics for two hours. Hell, she barely wanted to. But it was all a part of the world she’d created, to make Kelsey safe and to keep herself hidden. After all, if John knew…
She shook her head, just slightly; enough to remind herself what she was fighting for. He wasn’t a perfect husband, but he was all she had. And so much better than the alternative. To distract herself, she rubbed her daughter’s shoulder to the drone to the principal’s speech and tried to pay attention. There was someone new in the crowd tonight, a young man trying hard not to look at her as his gaze wavered from the podium. She knew her effect on men, the large chest and tiny waist she’d once relied on still attracted even those who didn’t know who she was. And she made sure that none did.
If the people here tonight knew who she really was, not Tricia Patterson, wife of John Patterson and co-founder of the Christian Youth Federation, but who she was before that, they would shun her. There was no room in this structured social group for Wynona Juggs—adult entertainer and star of over thirteen top rated hits (including “Girls Gone Wild” parts two, five, and seven, “Oops, I Did You Again”, and her best seller, “Jackhammer Jane”, though she didn’t like to brag). She had put that behind her seven years ago, and John, of course, had been a savior. He didn’t ask any questions when he saw her at his church, just accepted her. He grabbed a coat for her to put over her fishnet shirt and sat down next to her like a true gentleman. It may not have been love, but with kindness like that, how could she not have married him?
She’d given it up after that, the movies, the pseudo-fame, everything. And though she missed it sometimes, it was hard to really miss something that had stepped on you so many times. So she ignored it, and hid her past the best she could. Luckily, not that many people were interested. But as John grew more and more popular, speaking to those just as lost as she was and gaining the media favor, it would be hard to keep it a secret. But she would. For Kelsey’s sake at least.
“And I’d just like to remind you all about our sponsored presenter at Sheboygan’s annual Spoken Word Poetry Fest this weekend—”
Tricia groaned. If there was one thing she hated about her assumed personality, it was the do-gooder PTA that John had insisted she join. Sure, she wanted to make sure that Kelsey had a good education, but taking part in bake sales and every festival that Sheboygan put on was not exactly her idea of a good time. And the Spoken Word Poetry Fest, or SLAM!, as it was surnamed, was one of the worst. For the last four years Sheboygan has been trying to reach out to its teen generation, who, as Tricia knew all to well, wanted nothing to do with the rest of the town. She’d been the same way as a teen, and honestly couldn’t blame them. And especially when the town council decided to bring in its “hippest” speakers and put them on stage to appeal to what they believed the current trend was… well, it was messy at best.
“Peter? Can you stand up for a minute?” The principal continued, and Tricia glanced up as the man she’d caught staring at her now turned sharply toward the podium, and with a slight smile, stood up.
“Now, Peter petitioned himself to us about a month ago, and when I heard his work, well, can I say that it gave me chills?” She tittered. “I’m sure we’re all extremely honored to announce him as Sheboygan Elementary’s guest this year.”
Tricia glared hard at the man standing in front of the overly-excited house-wives, and to her horror found him staring right back at her. And for the first time in years, she felt that strange, sensual urge that had made her so natural in her movies over taking her. Her breath sped up for just a second, but it was enough for him to notice and smile a bit wider. Stunned, she looked away, down at the floor, at her daughter, anywhere but this man who was bringing back to many cleverly hid memories.

Nevertheless, four days later Tricia found herself at SLAM! among a hundred other Stepford Wives and their silently protesting teens. She silently rejoiced that Kelsey was still too young to rebel against even inane things like this. She just enjoyed the free ice cream and fireworks that were promised for the end of the evening. John was on the other end of the blanket, talking on his cell-phone to one of his ‘reformed sinners’. Although she of course appreciated how he was dedicated to his work, it would be nice for him, every once in a while, to pay attention to her too. But that was a complaint for another day. Today, it was much easier to focus her complaints on the awkward woman trying to express her joy of life through spoken word. Tricia shuddered and clapped appropriately when it was finally over. The next performer took the stage and she noticed John slipping away with a scowl. If he was going to force her to come to these events, he could at least stick around and hate it with her. But that probably wasn’t in “God’s plan for him”. She sighed and turned her attention back to the front.
The man from the other night, Peter, was taking the stage, and she blushed unwillingly. The warm May weather that had inspired her to wear a halter top suddenly seemed to be working against her, and again she had the slight rush that always accompanied an act of exhibition. But it wasn’t the same, she reminded her self. She was respectable now! And this man that she hardly knew wasn’t going to ruin that.
She set her jaw determinedly and looked at him again. He smiled at her, and she knew he’d been watching her the whole time. She bit her lip, and ignored his soft smile. This is why she’d left the business to begin with. Too much temptation, too many people who looked too nice, and just used her.
A drummer began hitting out a loping beat, and he started.

“Watching you from afar I tried so hard to keep myself away
But you pulled me closer and closer
I touched the screen and you would fade beneath my fingertips
Always so far, but always too close
I followed you, and you let yourself be chased
If only in my dreams you let me catch you
I’ve come so far
Let me come a little farther.”

Tricia bit her lip as those around her slowly realized who the painfully trite poetry was about. On stage, Peter smiled at her hopefully and she shook her head. Over at the ice cream stand John had finally looked up from his cell phone call. It would be out soon enough.
She ran.



Want more? Read Andy's or Michael's. And more to come!