It’s time for my weekly Story Starter prompt. Here’s how it works. Every Tuesday morning (my time), I’m going to give you an incomplete “teaser” sentence and your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to build a story (prose or poetry) around that partial sentence. It doesn’t have to be the first sentence in your story, and you don’t even have to use it in your post at all if you don’t want to. The purpose of the teaser is simply to spark your imagination and to get your storytelling juices flowing.
This week’s Story Starter teaser is:
Jack got that all too familiar dull, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he…
If you care to write and post a story built from this teaser, be sure to link back to this post and to tag your post with #FSS. I would also encourage you to read and enjoy what your fellow bloggers do with their stories.
And most of all, have fun.
This, That, and the Other 
Jack got that all too familiar dull, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he……thought of vinegar and brown paper 🙂
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🤢
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Jack got that all too familiar dull, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he…realised the possible outcome of what happened at the top of the hill
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It was all Jill’s fault.
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You’re right, girls egg the boys on – who can’t resist……
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Jack got that all too familiar dull, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw the caller ID. He clicked off his phone and threw it into a drawer. His mother could wait.
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Jack got that all too familiar dull, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he… bent
to pick up the dog’s leavings, again! He never wanted another pet. Was it not enough his home was laden with litter boxes and feline hair all over his clothes? Now this indignity? He needed courage to confront her, but could not find it, at least not this morning.
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Here’s my story. I think you may like this one, maybe a lot. 😉 https://sparksfromacombustiblemind.wordpress.com/2022/04/06/fandangos-story-starter-4-6-2022-playing-ketchup-today/
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I liked it!
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👍
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Jack got that all too familiar dull, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he heard Sara’s confession. I never understand it, but I have to seize it… every time, Jack thought. Any opportunity; no discriminating judgment if I can get what I want.
Sara had moved to the parish in the fall. Age has never been a factor for Jack, nor confusion and hesitancy in the girl… even a pretty boy, once, despite the challenging mechanics and the scream followed by a stream from his thick eyelashes.
At the canonry, Prior didn’t yield to feelings. Once on the hunt and in motion, it’s not right to stop; obviously. Follow through. I have needs. Why should people get to question that after they said anything to me? What’s crept into my thoughts?
My mind could meander, from time to time, to oft-resisted secular counseling recommendations for the community’s young. But I quickly remember. Weak! This is not what seminarians value or want to tolerate. Jack learned you have to submit.
Submission! Stressed among us; godliness. While, if somebody gets a guilty inkling, then they can find a place to go behind a curtain for saying the magic words… and soothe their soulish self like the lessons taught say before confirmation.
You don’t get to blame anyone; you sure can’t blame me, thought Jack. We have a code of sinfulness. I’ve taught it well. We can say they are forgiven. There are ways to encourage what lovelies call feelings; time to lay the trap, see who is bad.
Absolution for lust doesn’t always work for the youngster. Explanations don’t always suffice on the sense of wrong for acts the child never thought of and the quandary in which way to go. Continue on like God put us together? Or run in horror?
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Alrighty then. I wasn’t expecting anything like this from you, Marleen!
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My mom had a friend (a man of slight figure) she taught with (in a public elementary school) who discovered/decided he was gay in the 1970s — and who, some decades later, died from AIDS — who became a priest (and worked at a Catholic boys high school) for a few years afterward abiut which he spoke with my parents of the dynamics of power and sexuality in the hierarchy (the reason I used the words canonry and Prior in my story). Meanwhile, my mom’s sister (not Catholic) worked at a Catholic university, where she met various priests besides scientists who were not necessarily Catholic at all (as she worked in scientific ethics after she worked as a secretary or administrative organizer for a research doctor). She had a priest friend, for decades, who started hitting on her late in their friendship like she owed him something (not that the situation had been lopsided in terms of him giving more instead of what is more the case that she served him lunches at her apartment many times); like she should provide him something new… being the nearest female. He suddenly said he had “needs.” Sheesh. My mom, now, thinks she herself (after Mom “converted” a few years ago) has a “love of her life” in one of the priests where she attends. And we all know about the child victims and abused women (as well as men I suppose), including long-term mothers of priests’ children and guilt-ridden survivors of abortions pushed on them by those who purportedly were against it. Certainly, too, we’ve seen this with “Conservative” politicians. (Plus, I have experience with being groomed as a very young adult; having met a non-Catholic minister on a college campus in a religion course then having visited his church… getting the heck out.) Finally, I think “confessionals” in the Catholic sense or using a secret booth with some supposedly super-human dudes are a bad idea.
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….. I have … met a non-Catholic minister on a college campus in a religion course …
This was not a religious college. [ I haven’t attended a religious college, despite the fact I went to a few different kinds of sectarian schools before college. ] It was at a state college in the western United States. The course was on “Western” religions: Native American in addition to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
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