A little while ago I wrote a short story for the L. Ron Hubbard "Writers of the Future Contest". I did not win, and I know why, my story is really more horror than Science Fiction or Fantasy. But I decided that I will post each chapter here on my blog. There are 37 very short chapters, for a total of 15,000 words, about a fifth of a modern novel. Here is the start.
(This is where the B-plot starts...)
Standing at the mouth of the hole in the field was Allison, a White Hat, and in spite of what she knew, she was hoping that her partner Todd was getting good news.
“No, you-,” Todd paused, cut off by the voice at the other end of the phone.
“No, listen, I’m telling you-,” cut off once more Todd began to look frustrated. “I’m telling you, I see the van they rented, I see Allison looking down into the massive ass hole, and I see climbing cables that lead into said hole-,”
Todd nods to the voice. “Yeah, but-,”
“Look, they went down the hole, and they haven’t come back yet.”
“I don’t know why they left without us, I would ask, but they appear to be down a hole right now.” Todd then hung up the phone with a snap, considered casting it into the depths, and then simply put it in his pocket.
“So, how are things with the Hat Rack?” Allison knew, of course, her ability to hear was not at all impaired, but it seemed polite to ask.
Todd stood with slumped shoulders, giving Allison a blank but frustrated look. “You call them next time.” He then shuffled up next to her and gazed downward. “So, what do you think they found down there?”
Allison closed her eyes, and after a moment of feeling like she was standing in a cornfield, she felt like she was somewhere that was not there. In this state she often had a hard time describing, Allison listened. She heard a few things: a steady tune, the grinding of gears, chains, and wheels on a track, tapping, and then lastly Allison heard several different laughs. Then she remembered she was standing in a cornfield, turned to Todd, and asked “Do you feel like getting a corn dog?”