Trolls for Dust Origins — February 3rd, 2010

As a potential reader of the Trolls for Dust book series, you may wonder, just where did this idea come from?  For the next couple of weeks I would like to share with you nine stories all written in one year that inspired the idea of the series.  

In 2010 I had embarked upon a creative experiment of writing a one-page story every day.  Well, I only got to 270 and many of the stories went over a page or were likely only the beginnings of much longer stories, but it was a fun challenge anyway.  

Here is the first one-page story that began the road to Trolls for Dust:

February 3rd, 2010 (Story Thirty-Four)

zombie crossing

Something trudged behind her.  Lea turned and screamed.  The beam of her flashlight caught the outline of a monstrous creature, human only in body.  The zombie reached for her with blood-caked lips!  She screamed again.  Her boyfriend, Thomas, jumped out of an alley, pulling her away from the zombie’s grasp at the last possible second.  The flashlight clattered to the sidewalk and the street fell into darkness.

“That’s not the only one.”  He whispered, holding her tight.

“Cut!  Okay, fifteen minute break you guys.”  Director what’s-his-name put down his megaphone and walked up to his actors with a huge smile on his face.  “Great work you two, really your best.  The chemistry really kicks.”  He strolled off to converse with his camera man.

“Let go of me, Randall!”  Tracy Starllight pulled away from her costar and ex-husband.  “Honestly, if I have to put with that stink one more day….”

Randall Stone sniffed at his clothes.  “Well, I took a shower.  Is it the cologne?”

“Did you learn nothing in the four months we were married?”

“Hey, you don’t need to yell!  You smell sometimes too…you know, when…”  He blushed.  “Sorry, I don’t mean…you know…but sometimes…sometimes…”

Tracy tapped her foot and scowled.  The zombie standing nearby accepted a packet of cigarettes from one of the crew people and lit up.  “Don’t stop now, Randy, you’re digging you’re own grave.”  The zombie blew the smoke purposely in Tracy’s direction.  Tracy whirled around.

“And you!  Is it really necessary to spit fake blood on me in every single take?”

The girl dressed as a zombie arched a dark eyebrow and blew more smoke her way.  “I have a name.  It’s Alexa.  And if you’d read your script you’d realize that this is a comedy, a dark one but a comedy nonetheless.  The audience will laugh at it, and it will be hailed as brilliant by all the critics.  And may I remind you that this film is just as much about my zombie as it is your human.”  Alexa Vayner walked away, hips swinging, fake blood and gray flesh hanging off her every limb.

“Who does she think she is!”

“She played Ophelia on the London stage last year.  Whole audiences wept.”  Randall wistfully watched their British costar sway off to her dressing room.

“Well, this is a new year!”  Tracy hissed.  She marched off too, leaving Randall standing rather forlornly.  So far the new year hadn’t been great.  He’d gotten a divorce, not knowing quite why, and ended up doing a monster flick with his ex, due to his bungling agent.  At one time, he’d had a shot at being the next great action star, but now that was all off, according to the tabloids.

Randall sighed and went to sit in his chair where the makeup girls touched up his face and artfully mussed up his hair for the next scene, where he would slaughter twenty-five zombies (except for Alexa) and take “Lea” off to a hotel where they would plan their next move and make love, because when zombies attack, that is just what one does.  Later in the film, he would have an almost romantic encounter with Alexa’s zombie girl, for “Thomas” would suddenly recognize her as his ruined long lost love from high school.

At the end of the movie, he would be torn between Lea and zombie girl, not knowing who he really loved best.  Zombie girl would turn Lea into a monster and he would have to kill them both.  The last shot of the movie would be Alexa’s gorgeous brown eyes staring up at the camera.  He grimaced and rubbed at his forehead.  Cue tragic symphony.

–Original story by Pixie Beldona was previously published on  It has been edited for this post.  Happy Reading.– 

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