Blog Chain: Summer Flings: Do they really exist?

I chose the topic for Blog Chain this time around:

Have you ever written a summer fling? Or are all your fictional relationships the deep, forever kind? If you did write one, how would it begin (the meet cute)? Where would it be set? Give us a few paragraphs sample. 

Surprisingly, though I wrote this prompt, I haven't really written a summer fling. I'll have to think of a new one for the assignment. 

Synopsis: Jaron, a philosophy student visiting hick cousins in Ohio, falls off a hay wagon and lands on a stranger's farm in the middle of nowhere. After blacking out, he comes to with the barrel of Agnes' rifle at his nose. An endlessly practical but lovely corn farmer, she's in the middle of a feud with the mega-farm ten miles upwind, who claims she's growing their patented seeds. The last thing she needs at her door is one of their spies. While Mr. Philosophy waxes poetic about her corn-silken mane and muses over the possibility that reality is completely subjective, Agnes tries to get in touch with his cousins so he can do what men do best and leave. Jaron doesn't remember their phone number, he lost his phone in the fall, and can only tell her their names and horribly mispronounce the town where they live. 

Sample:

"Coshocktown? You mean Coshocton?" Agnes rubbed her forehead with her whole palm. "You're in Plainfield. That's at least ten miles and it ain't flat."

"Well, could I trouble you for a ride?" Ten miles didn't seem that far. Maybe he could take a hike in the morning, after the rain stopped.

Her hand fell to her side and she stared. "Our truck mysteriously stopped working two days back. About the same time another young gentleman came poking around the farm. Another spy!"

Back to the conspiracy theories again. Her patience for his theories on existentialism wasn't likely to improve, either. He'd have to try another tactic. "Our? Is there a Mister Cornsilk?"

Her eyes went from narrowed to slit-thin. "No. And there never will be. If it weren't for this stupid rain and the flash flood warning I'd send you on your way on foot." 

She spun around and tossed a folded quilt. He caught it with his stomach.

"This must be the Midwestern hospitality I've heard so much about," Jaron mused.

"Don't get too used to it."

A little boy with brown hair like a sheepdog and brand new Levi denim walked into the room with a math book. "Explain it again, Aggie? I can't figure out these stupid fractions! Who's that?"

With a deep sigh, Agnes took the boy under her wing and gestured toward Jaron. "This is what a city boy looks like. Take a good look at those skinny limbs and baby-soft hands. It's what happens to a person who forgets how to work." She gave the boy a swat on the bum and told him she'd be in to tuck him in soon. 

Jaron's made-for-children grin collapsed. "Nice. Really nice. You know, you're shaping his reality, too."

Agnes groaned. "Good night!" 

Before he could even think of a response, Jaron found himself alone in a dark, wood-paneled room on a tattered sofa, with only a mutt for company.  

Make sure to check out the other links on the Blog Chain! Catch up with Christine Fonseca to see yesterday's blog chain post,

and check out Demitria Lunetta's tomorrow.

Blog Chain: Mash-ups and Re-tellings

Margie's topic: Pick a book or story and imagine it in a new genre. For example, what would Oliver Twist be like if it was a sci-fi novel. Would Fagin have been a robot? Do you prefer your new creation or the original?"

Okay, just for fun let's imagine Romeo and Juliet ...

as a YA Paranormal Romance. 

Sixteen-year-old Romeo Montague, a nice boy from a nice family is as intrigued as anybody else when the Capulet family moves in. Parents, daughter, cousins, aunts: they all have perfect bodies, loads of cash, and impeccable style. But when Romeo finds out about the rivalry between his father and Joe Capulet going all the way back to elementary school, he understands Juliet Capulet is off limits. 

The Capulets have a secret, a reason for returning to Huckleberry Falls after a decade away. Juliet is about to come of age, whatever that means. Romeo's best friend Mercutio overheard Joe Capulet whisper of taking her to the top of the highest waterfall for some strange ritual. For the boring old hick town of Huckleberry Falls, this sounds like opening night at a rock 'n roll concert, so of course he wouldn't miss it for the world. But what they expect to be entertainment turns to tragedy when Juliet's demented cousin hears Mercutio snickering and throws him over the Falls to a stony death. Juliet, glowing like a firefly, dives into the abyss after him, lifting his broken body as if it were weightless. Her tears fall on his face, and Mercutio awakens from death.

But Mercutio will never be the same. His wicked wit gone, he jumps at shadows and whispers to himself about angels and gods, turning him from Mr. Popular into the Huckle High resident freak, and Romeo into his always-angry protector. Romeo mourns the loss of his friend while having to defend him from the cruel kids in school who are only too happy to take revenge for all the cutting things Mercutio used to say. To make matters worse, Juliet keeps trying to edge her way into Romeo's life, inviting him back to the Falls and certain death at the hands of her kin. 

In his nightmares, he sees her, the angel of justice, meting out God's wrath upon him. Then the nightmares melt into dreams of soft ruby lips and the smell of honeysuckle in the mist. He's at the falls with her again, as at home in her arms as his own childhood bedroom. In horror, he awakes, shivering and wet at Huckleberry Falls. How many nights has he gone sleep-walking to the Falls? And why is Juliet's family staring at him as though he holds the key to their ascension?

Something has happened to him. He's glowing an eerie pale pink in the mist of the Falls. His memories unreliable at best, Romeo faces an impossible choice: betray his family's loyalty by helping their enemies gain ultimate power, or die at the hands of the fair Juliet.


Of course I'd prefer a YA Paranormal Romance to Shakespeare. His words were pretty, but I pretty much hate all his plots. :)

What do you think? Do you like mash-ups and re-tellings?

Check out Christine Fonseca's thoughts from yesterday and Demitria Lunetta's tomorrow.