The first MWM Live was for someone who we honestly didn’t press-gang long in advance of the event. Probably the one person to play our “name a place, name a thing, name a person” game to get their story started too!
“OK”, said the landlord, “Here’s your uniform.” Carl looked sceptically at the bear skin hat and rusty old gas mask. The job hefting barrels at the Queen’s Head was supposed to be easy money, beer funds for his summer vacation. Gas masks and furry hats were not part of the …

Written Sy Wyatt at the now infamous MWM Live! in Bristol, May 2009.
Pressure. Emmett had dealt with pressure his whole life. Pressure to deliver. Pressure to perform. Today, however, he was concerned entirely with the pressure on the outside of his deep sea exploration suit. The soft pinging in his ear told him he was safe, and still attached to the survey ship, thousands of feet above, by the umbilical.
“Can you see it, Emmett?”
“I’m pretty much on top of it. Another hundred or so feet and I’ll have contact.”
Emmett imagined …

This one was for Richard Griffiths, of Crafty Butchers fame, who just wanted “spidermonkeys”.
We live to serve …
Cliff reloaded his rifle as quickly as he could, letting the spent cartridges join those already scattered about his feet. The barrel of the gun was hot enough to scorch the wooden parapet of the outpost as he propped it there, glad for a moment not to have the weight against his shoulder.
“How many of them are there?” asked Delilah.
“Depends,” replied Cliff. “If they breed like monkeys, we’ve got to be getting to …

Inspired by Ryan Reed, who asked for a story featuring ““A man who has been bitten by a radioactive man, a VW Camper Van, and a pie”
Rain rattled against the side of the camper van. Reed tried to ignore it, and concentrated on cooking. Cooking was a lot more complicated for Reed these days than it used to be as, since the bite, he had to work just as hard to keep things out of his meals as put things in.
Thunder crashed overhead and the VW camper rocked from side …

For the #fridayflash crowd, and a little limbering up before doing some “stunt fiction” at the British International Comics Show.
As always, I started off with some random factors from http://shortstoryideas.herb.me.uk. Today’s kicker was “A School is the location, anticipation is the theme. A deckchair is an object that plays a part in the story.”
From this we get … Football Town.
He had been at the school as long as anyone could remember. Some people in the town even joked that he’d been out the field, already shouting at some long forgotten …

More MWM Live practice. This one took a little longer, had trouble getting rid of the word “crawl” from the list of random words.

Travis woke up, still tied to the bed. He couldn’t see Laura, but could hear movement downstairs. Cups clicked together, water pouring. He guessed that she was making tea, and was surprised that he didn’t immediately want some. Looking up, he could see why.
Banging on the surface of the mirror that hung above Laura’s bed, desperately trying to break through from the other side, from whatever …

More practice for Monkeys with Machineguns Live!
Found a fantastic site for generating random ideas, http://shortstoryideas.herb.me.uk/index.html, which I will blog about later. In the meantime, here’s the end of the line.

Vera had heard about the telephone box. It was the last one left in the county, apparently, sitting quietly on the corner of the village green. It was never vandalised, unlike the play area just a few yards away, never put into service as a make shift toilet or short term accommodation for teenagers overcome by hormones and cheap cider.
No, …

More MWM Live practice. This time I try to fit Hitler, a museum, and a monkey covered in jam onto one side of A5.
It is a little known fact that Hitler maintained a secret museum, three storeys below his bunker in the heart of Berlin. At first, it was home to the ransacked treasures of the nations crushed under the Nazi jackboot but, as the war came towards its end and Hitler’s mania for the esoteric and the occult reached its height, the museum became home to artifacts and relics …

The harp had not been touched in over two thousand years. For those who believed, it was a relic from the funeral of Jesus Christ. For those who did not, it remained a priceless archaeological find.
The cook’s hands were calloused and dirty. Streaks of grease stained the harp’s ancient frame as he hefted it from the alter, soaking swiftly into the dry, sacred wood. He spat into his filthy palms.
No one was quick enough to stop him.
As his fingers stroked the ancient strings, as the notes rang out across the …

The Minister had been bringing homeless people here for as long as he could remember. Sometimes, if he strayed far enough, he had thoughts about what his life had been before. He vaguely remembered other places, other people, a thing named “God”.
But that was before the Starport, and before the tree.
“So, this is it?” the homeless man asked, “I just put the noose on and …”
“That’s it,” said the minister, “Instant transport … a life among the stars”.
“Well,” said the homeless man, “You’re the priest …”
The tree moaned, just a …