Today I shall throw out a few writing prompts for all of you.
I would love to read what you come up with from these.
Rules of MY game:
Keep it to 500 words or less.
You must use ALL five (or six) senses AND be descriptive.
No full paragraphs with backstory. Work it into the tale.
No text speak, please. Be a writer.
Choose only ONE.
You must play nice and if you comment on what someone else writes and it's rude, I will remove your comment AND your post.
Let's get started!!
#1:
Phoebe is a married student going for her PhD. Her husband is Braxton. Braxton has a deep, dark secret that Phoebe discovers. How she finds it, what she does with the information, and what that secret is will be up to you to decide. What she's getting her PhD in is something else you decide.
#2:
Selina is a fairy who has no wings. She is made fun of on a daily basis by her peers who can fly. Her best friend is a snail (you may name him/her) who wants to take over fairyland. Selina must find out why and stop the snail. You decide if she gets her wings and how she accomplishes the task.
#3:
Roger is a spy for a multimillion dollar corporation who is about to turn into the bad guy. He kills people that get in the way of the corporate plan and he fidgets with electronics. Why he turns on his company or what he is going to steal or do to them is up to you to decide. Is he married and does his wife know what he does?
Let's have some fun with this. I can't wait to read what you all write.
Don't forget, Yassa releases next week!! *excited* So, keep your eyes open for that one!
Getting out of here for now, until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
Monday, Monday, Monday!!! 6,000!
Yes, you read that right. It's Monday! UGH to daylight savings time - it has me alllll screwed up.
Time for a short story!
As I stand, alone, in the darkness, letting my eyes try to adjust, I begin to panic. I can feel my palms sweating and my heart racing in my chest; it's loud in the silence of the night. My legs begin to shake and I am fighting back both the urge to scream and the urge to run. I know that I can't give away my location but can't remember why or how I had gotten here. All I remember is falling asleep in my bed and waking up to this pitch blackness and the smell of trees, leaves, and grass. I am barefoot, dressed only in my nightgown, and I can feel a slight dampness in the ground beneath my feet. My hearing and smell are heightened to a state I have never experienced before. I am blind.
Suddenly, the thin waning crescent of the moon appears and my eyes are able to pick up a hint of light. What I see makes my blood run cold. I am standing in a small clearing in a forest and there are two very large, very red eyes looking at me from the brush on the other side. There is no body to go with those eyes yet but the sight of them makes my stomach tie into knots and every muscle in my body tense with fear.
It slowly takes a step out and I have to will my feet not to move and clench my jaw shut to avoid screaming. I know that if I scream, it will be on me in a second. Where that knowledge comes from, I can't remember. I lick my dry lips with my dry tongue as the animal emerges and my eyes widen in fear when the full form of the dog finally emerges. It is the biggest canine I have ever seen and I want to cry but find I am afraid to blur my vision with my tears and lose sight of my stalker.
His lips curl back in a snarl and I get the scent of blood in my nose. I can see the stains on its muzzle now and, as it moves closer, I am struck with the certainty that it is here to kill me. When it gets within mere feet of my position, my will breaks and I turn and run; crashing through the trees and bushes and cutting my skin deeply. I feel the sticks penetrating the soft bottom of my feet but I cannot take the time to care. I run like I have never run before in my life. I can hear the dog's feet as they pound the Earth behind me and I can imagine its breath on the back of my neck.
I want to stop and throw up. My stomach feels like it is going to explode and my legs feel numb and detached from my body. I am breathing hard and fast from my panic and know that I will pass out soon if I am not careful; but I can't stop. I must keep running until the animal gives up. I know this as surely as I know my name is Bonnie; but I can't remember anything else.
I look back for a moment to see where my pursuer is and realize my mistake too late. In the dark, I don't see the end of the ground until I'm falling. I feel my hair whipping up and around my face for a moment and I think, "This is how I am going to die." but I slam into the ground a moment later and the sound of my bones snapping throughout my body sounds alien. I am lying on my back and cannot move but can see the place where I began my decent. As I stare, the dog leaps off the edge with no fear and lands, snarling, a few feet from me.
As he turns and looks at me, I allow my tears to flow at last. When he finally lunges for my throat, I feel a fear that I have never felt before...
The fear of death.
THE END - Literally!
I plan to crack out three chapters this week, my daily goal is 6,000 words. I need to finish by the end of March to hit my no-later-than-June release date.
Temujin, Jamuka, and Borte are about to have some tension and this is about to get real. I hope you all enjoyed my lil story above and that it made you cringe for a moment in this early morning light.
Now that I am all warmed up, time to write some book!!
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Time for a short story!
As I stand, alone, in the darkness, letting my eyes try to adjust, I begin to panic. I can feel my palms sweating and my heart racing in my chest; it's loud in the silence of the night. My legs begin to shake and I am fighting back both the urge to scream and the urge to run. I know that I can't give away my location but can't remember why or how I had gotten here. All I remember is falling asleep in my bed and waking up to this pitch blackness and the smell of trees, leaves, and grass. I am barefoot, dressed only in my nightgown, and I can feel a slight dampness in the ground beneath my feet. My hearing and smell are heightened to a state I have never experienced before. I am blind.
Suddenly, the thin waning crescent of the moon appears and my eyes are able to pick up a hint of light. What I see makes my blood run cold. I am standing in a small clearing in a forest and there are two very large, very red eyes looking at me from the brush on the other side. There is no body to go with those eyes yet but the sight of them makes my stomach tie into knots and every muscle in my body tense with fear.
It slowly takes a step out and I have to will my feet not to move and clench my jaw shut to avoid screaming. I know that if I scream, it will be on me in a second. Where that knowledge comes from, I can't remember. I lick my dry lips with my dry tongue as the animal emerges and my eyes widen in fear when the full form of the dog finally emerges. It is the biggest canine I have ever seen and I want to cry but find I am afraid to blur my vision with my tears and lose sight of my stalker.
His lips curl back in a snarl and I get the scent of blood in my nose. I can see the stains on its muzzle now and, as it moves closer, I am struck with the certainty that it is here to kill me. When it gets within mere feet of my position, my will breaks and I turn and run; crashing through the trees and bushes and cutting my skin deeply. I feel the sticks penetrating the soft bottom of my feet but I cannot take the time to care. I run like I have never run before in my life. I can hear the dog's feet as they pound the Earth behind me and I can imagine its breath on the back of my neck.
I want to stop and throw up. My stomach feels like it is going to explode and my legs feel numb and detached from my body. I am breathing hard and fast from my panic and know that I will pass out soon if I am not careful; but I can't stop. I must keep running until the animal gives up. I know this as surely as I know my name is Bonnie; but I can't remember anything else.
I look back for a moment to see where my pursuer is and realize my mistake too late. In the dark, I don't see the end of the ground until I'm falling. I feel my hair whipping up and around my face for a moment and I think, "This is how I am going to die." but I slam into the ground a moment later and the sound of my bones snapping throughout my body sounds alien. I am lying on my back and cannot move but can see the place where I began my decent. As I stare, the dog leaps off the edge with no fear and lands, snarling, a few feet from me.
As he turns and looks at me, I allow my tears to flow at last. When he finally lunges for my throat, I feel a fear that I have never felt before...
The fear of death.
THE END - Literally!
I plan to crack out three chapters this week, my daily goal is 6,000 words. I need to finish by the end of March to hit my no-later-than-June release date.
Temujin, Jamuka, and Borte are about to have some tension and this is about to get real. I hope you all enjoyed my lil story above and that it made you cringe for a moment in this early morning light.
Now that I am all warmed up, time to write some book!!
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Bookstores
With the loss of Borders in 2011, one must ask the question: What is going to happen to the bookstore? I read Publisher's Weekly and have noticed an alarming trend where more people are purchasing e-books than ever before; those numbers just keep rising. It concerns me, not because I am afraid I will never again be able to lay my hands on a tangible book, but because I will miss the experience of the bookstore. If you are in love with the printed word and the experience, you will understand. If you are not concerned about losing the experience, then you have never had it.
Here is what I love most about being in a bookstore:
Walking through the door is like taking a step through a portal into another world. You become instantly warm from the luminescent lighting and the camaraderie you feel with every person browsing the shelves or losing themselves in a book while nestled in the large, leather chairs and couches. Your senses are bombarded with familiar, comforting scents like coffee and newsprint. You can, at times, hear the laughter of children as they traipse through their imaginary world of princesses, dragons, and fearless knights or play with Bad Kitty or the dear sweet Little Llama.
Then, the whispers start. Every book on every shelf is calling your name, whispering the promise of their story in your ear, and telling you to, "Pick me! I can take you places you've never been!" You walk along the shelves with your heart racing, possibly touching some of the spines as you move through the rows; listening, feeling, getting excited about what you can learn from the ink printed on the pages. You are delirious and everything becomes a bit hazy in your mind. You know you went there for a new adventure but can't decide between the love story or the one about government conspiracies; perhaps the one on this shelf about kings and queens long dead...
You lift a book from the shelf and weigh it in your hand; feeling the story move against your skin. You flip it open to the jacket flaps and read a synopsis to decide if it's the kind of story you want to read this week. You inhale with your nose close to the pages and allow the scent of ink on paper to take over your senses. You feel the crackling of the glue that binds the pages together. It is intoxicating to you because you love books. You may even be of the type to sleep with one under your pillow so it can whisper its tales to you while you dream.
You make your choice; not after one or two or even three books that you perform this ritual with, but after many. You bring your carefully chosen friend - because that's really what a book is to a reader - to the counter and pay, then head home with your new friend held close; excited about what the pages will bring. When you arrive home, you lovingly unwrap your book from the bag and sit down, perhaps with a cup of coffee or tea, and begin your journey.
I am at a loss when I think of a time when I cannot perform that ritual. I don't want to shop for books via a cold piece of metal that connects me to a www something or other. I want the heat of the book in my hand, its pages giving off a little bit of life that I can absorb just by holding it.
How about you? Do you prefer a tangible book or an e-reader? Have you ever experienced the phenomenon described above?
I am eager to know, drop me a line.
It is just past 9am so I am running a little late. I am forgiving myself today because I managed to pour out almost SIX thousand words yesterday. I had my story firmly in my grasp. Today feels the same... I hear the buzz of the characters in my ears...
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Here is what I love most about being in a bookstore:
Walking through the door is like taking a step through a portal into another world. You become instantly warm from the luminescent lighting and the camaraderie you feel with every person browsing the shelves or losing themselves in a book while nestled in the large, leather chairs and couches. Your senses are bombarded with familiar, comforting scents like coffee and newsprint. You can, at times, hear the laughter of children as they traipse through their imaginary world of princesses, dragons, and fearless knights or play with Bad Kitty or the dear sweet Little Llama.
Then, the whispers start. Every book on every shelf is calling your name, whispering the promise of their story in your ear, and telling you to, "Pick me! I can take you places you've never been!" You walk along the shelves with your heart racing, possibly touching some of the spines as you move through the rows; listening, feeling, getting excited about what you can learn from the ink printed on the pages. You are delirious and everything becomes a bit hazy in your mind. You know you went there for a new adventure but can't decide between the love story or the one about government conspiracies; perhaps the one on this shelf about kings and queens long dead...
You lift a book from the shelf and weigh it in your hand; feeling the story move against your skin. You flip it open to the jacket flaps and read a synopsis to decide if it's the kind of story you want to read this week. You inhale with your nose close to the pages and allow the scent of ink on paper to take over your senses. You feel the crackling of the glue that binds the pages together. It is intoxicating to you because you love books. You may even be of the type to sleep with one under your pillow so it can whisper its tales to you while you dream.
You make your choice; not after one or two or even three books that you perform this ritual with, but after many. You bring your carefully chosen friend - because that's really what a book is to a reader - to the counter and pay, then head home with your new friend held close; excited about what the pages will bring. When you arrive home, you lovingly unwrap your book from the bag and sit down, perhaps with a cup of coffee or tea, and begin your journey.
I am at a loss when I think of a time when I cannot perform that ritual. I don't want to shop for books via a cold piece of metal that connects me to a www something or other. I want the heat of the book in my hand, its pages giving off a little bit of life that I can absorb just by holding it.
How about you? Do you prefer a tangible book or an e-reader? Have you ever experienced the phenomenon described above?
I am eager to know, drop me a line.
It is just past 9am so I am running a little late. I am forgiving myself today because I managed to pour out almost SIX thousand words yesterday. I had my story firmly in my grasp. Today feels the same... I hear the buzz of the characters in my ears...
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Loss
We all know how it feels to lose something we truly love. Here it is in short story form:
Ginger met the man of her dreams and fell head-over-heels in love with him. She had been in love before, but it was never quite like this and, over time, that love didn't fade but grew stronger until her very life force was connected to it. Every waking moment, she felt like she could fly because of this wonderful man who had somehow managed to steal every ounce of her heart; which she thought she had protected so well.
Through her life, Ginger had never been privy to caring on the level that she believed this man cared for her and it excited her, broke down her walls like they were made of butter, and made her feel she was worth something. She decided that she would move mountains for this man if he asked her to because her goal was to make him as happy as he had made her. Every day, she worked toward that goal. Some days were easier than others because of the dynamics of the relationship but she never gave up and pledged that she would love him through whatever life threw their way.
Then, one day, he said that he could no longer struggle with her and that she should move on and find someone else. Her heart stopped beating in that moment and tears filled her eyes as pain shot through her body from her chest outward. She denied it at first, thinking that he couldn't possibly mean what he was saying; she thought the strength of her love would be enough to carry them through a hurricane. Yes, she had done some things she wasn't proud of but thought that because she had never betrayed him, it wouldn't matter after a time. She was wrong. They did matter.
When the realization that he was gone overtook her, the pain in her entire body was one that was so intense, so completely overwhelming, that she screamed. It was the only way she knew to keep from falling down and dying in that moment. She began to shiver, though it was not cold in the room. Tremors wracked her body and she lay down on the floor, wept, and allowed herself to shake with them uncontrollably. When she had cried all that she could, she knew not what to do so she just laid on the floor and stared into space. She felt like she had no heart, no soul, and no way to think clearly; she may not ever again. Those things had been ripped from her body and shredded.
She began to question herself and wonder if she didn't do enough for him, if she wasn't good enough for him, and if he ever really cared in the first place. Surely he did, she wasn't that stupid... or was she? Why did she allow this man so close to her heart? Why did she give him her total trust and not question his motives? After all, he hadn't given her his. But she did and she was glad she did because she knew that if she hadn't, she wouldn't really have been trying; but she did try. She put every ounce of herself into him and hoped it would be enough. As she lay shivering on the floor and crying until her eyes swelled shut and she could not rise, she knew that she wasn't the one he wanted and the realization made her want to die.
Hours later, when Ginger finally managed to crawl to her bed and slide under the covers that smelled just like him, she passed out from the grief of her loss. Her body simply couldn't take it and her brain could not process that she would never again feel the warmth of his hand, the touch of his lips, or the safety of his arms. She had no dreams that she could remember but woke up with a hole where her heart used to be and no feeling in any part of her body. She remembered when she bounced out of bed on wings of love - was that just yesterday? - and lay for a time crying again for her loss. She knew that she had disappointed him and wished she was a better person, a better lover, and a better friend when he needed it.
She remembered looking into his eyes and thinking she could see his soul, feeling his arms around her when she was upset or scared, and not being able to picture her life without him in it. Her future was suddenly blank and she felt the loss that much more intensely. She knew she would never leave the house again because if she ever saw him on the street or with someone else, she would die a thousand deaths and feel this pain all over again. She knew that seeing him happy with someone else, when she had tried so hard and failed, would make her feel like dirt. She knew that she would not be able to handle it and knew that she would do whatever she had to in order to circumvent that encounter. If that meant never seeing the light of day again, she knew she would endure it because the alternative was too horrifying to think about.
Her heart was broken and she knew she would never love like that again, just as she had never loved like that before. He was her once-in-a-lifetime and, in her heart, was irreplaceable. She knew she had loved ones that cared for her and would always be there but she was irrevocably changed by the event and would never be the same without him. Cold and dead and hating life, she had no choice but to rise and tend to her appointments; her heart heavy, her eyes wet, and her hands shaking.
They say time heals all wounds and she prays that it's true because she knows she cannot live long with this pain; this excruciating, all encompassing pain. She decides that she will never love again because as long as her heart is closed forevermore, no one can rip it out and re-open the hole that will be in her chest for the rest of her life.
~ The End
Above is what I deem to be true love and true loss. Have you ever felt that way?
I managed almost six thousand words yesterday and they flowed well. Chapter 17 is underway.
I hope you all connected in some way with the story above because, if you did, you have known what it is like to really love someone. Even through the pain of your loss, you love them. You will always have a giant place in your heart that only they touched and, even though it hurts like hell and is forever empty when they leave, you at least knew what it was like to see the sunrise in someone's face and feel the warmth when you looked into their eyes.
Until next time, write on!
Jo
Ginger met the man of her dreams and fell head-over-heels in love with him. She had been in love before, but it was never quite like this and, over time, that love didn't fade but grew stronger until her very life force was connected to it. Every waking moment, she felt like she could fly because of this wonderful man who had somehow managed to steal every ounce of her heart; which she thought she had protected so well.
Through her life, Ginger had never been privy to caring on the level that she believed this man cared for her and it excited her, broke down her walls like they were made of butter, and made her feel she was worth something. She decided that she would move mountains for this man if he asked her to because her goal was to make him as happy as he had made her. Every day, she worked toward that goal. Some days were easier than others because of the dynamics of the relationship but she never gave up and pledged that she would love him through whatever life threw their way.
Then, one day, he said that he could no longer struggle with her and that she should move on and find someone else. Her heart stopped beating in that moment and tears filled her eyes as pain shot through her body from her chest outward. She denied it at first, thinking that he couldn't possibly mean what he was saying; she thought the strength of her love would be enough to carry them through a hurricane. Yes, she had done some things she wasn't proud of but thought that because she had never betrayed him, it wouldn't matter after a time. She was wrong. They did matter.
When the realization that he was gone overtook her, the pain in her entire body was one that was so intense, so completely overwhelming, that she screamed. It was the only way she knew to keep from falling down and dying in that moment. She began to shiver, though it was not cold in the room. Tremors wracked her body and she lay down on the floor, wept, and allowed herself to shake with them uncontrollably. When she had cried all that she could, she knew not what to do so she just laid on the floor and stared into space. She felt like she had no heart, no soul, and no way to think clearly; she may not ever again. Those things had been ripped from her body and shredded.
She began to question herself and wonder if she didn't do enough for him, if she wasn't good enough for him, and if he ever really cared in the first place. Surely he did, she wasn't that stupid... or was she? Why did she allow this man so close to her heart? Why did she give him her total trust and not question his motives? After all, he hadn't given her his. But she did and she was glad she did because she knew that if she hadn't, she wouldn't really have been trying; but she did try. She put every ounce of herself into him and hoped it would be enough. As she lay shivering on the floor and crying until her eyes swelled shut and she could not rise, she knew that she wasn't the one he wanted and the realization made her want to die.
Hours later, when Ginger finally managed to crawl to her bed and slide under the covers that smelled just like him, she passed out from the grief of her loss. Her body simply couldn't take it and her brain could not process that she would never again feel the warmth of his hand, the touch of his lips, or the safety of his arms. She had no dreams that she could remember but woke up with a hole where her heart used to be and no feeling in any part of her body. She remembered when she bounced out of bed on wings of love - was that just yesterday? - and lay for a time crying again for her loss. She knew that she had disappointed him and wished she was a better person, a better lover, and a better friend when he needed it.
She remembered looking into his eyes and thinking she could see his soul, feeling his arms around her when she was upset or scared, and not being able to picture her life without him in it. Her future was suddenly blank and she felt the loss that much more intensely. She knew she would never leave the house again because if she ever saw him on the street or with someone else, she would die a thousand deaths and feel this pain all over again. She knew that seeing him happy with someone else, when she had tried so hard and failed, would make her feel like dirt. She knew that she would not be able to handle it and knew that she would do whatever she had to in order to circumvent that encounter. If that meant never seeing the light of day again, she knew she would endure it because the alternative was too horrifying to think about.
Her heart was broken and she knew she would never love like that again, just as she had never loved like that before. He was her once-in-a-lifetime and, in her heart, was irreplaceable. She knew she had loved ones that cared for her and would always be there but she was irrevocably changed by the event and would never be the same without him. Cold and dead and hating life, she had no choice but to rise and tend to her appointments; her heart heavy, her eyes wet, and her hands shaking.
They say time heals all wounds and she prays that it's true because she knows she cannot live long with this pain; this excruciating, all encompassing pain. She decides that she will never love again because as long as her heart is closed forevermore, no one can rip it out and re-open the hole that will be in her chest for the rest of her life.
~ The End
Above is what I deem to be true love and true loss. Have you ever felt that way?
I managed almost six thousand words yesterday and they flowed well. Chapter 17 is underway.
I hope you all connected in some way with the story above because, if you did, you have known what it is like to really love someone. Even through the pain of your loss, you love them. You will always have a giant place in your heart that only they touched and, even though it hurts like hell and is forever empty when they leave, you at least knew what it was like to see the sunrise in someone's face and feel the warmth when you looked into their eyes.
Until next time, write on!
Jo
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
1500? The Nightmare of the Little Dog
I only managed 1500 words yesterday. Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you...
I am sitting at my computer, typing away, when all of a sudden my maltchi, Tucker, begins chasing his tail. Round and round he went until suddenly, he stopped and looked up at me with his furry little face then opened his mouth and roared like a lion. I have to say, I was taken a bit aback and was a bit frightened out of my wits. Okay, I was terrified and confused! When his roar came to an end, he charged me, snarling and gnashing his teeth like he was going to have me for a snack.
I jumped off of my chair so quickly it turned over and I ran for the bathroom so I could get behind a locked door. He is just a tiny dog and there's no way he can come through a door, right? Wrong. I got into the bathroom and shut and locked the door just before he was able to grab my ankle with his sharp little teeth. While sitting in the bathroom, my mind went haywire as I imagined all kinds of scenarios to explain the reason for my dog's behavior. I thought, maybe he was bitten by a werewolf, perhaps he ate some bad food, and I even wondered if maybe he had cat-scratch fever - because of the lion roar.
He started hurling his tiny body against the door at an attempt to break through to me. After just four hits, the door began to splinter and I began to shake. Tremors started at my feet and, after just a few moments, my entire body was vibrating so hard I almost threw up. I knew I was going to die. That knowledge sickened me and made me cry for the loss that so many people would suffer. What would my kids think? Who would care for them when I was gone? How would my parents handle it? All of these questions had no answers but caused me to straighten my back, force down my gorge, and control my tremors so I could think straight. I began to look for a way out.
After searching the bathroom for a minute, I noticed that there was an air duct in the ceiling. I quickly stepped to the top of the toilet and took out the loose screws. I hauled myself up into the shaft at the same moment that the bathroom door shattered and my little Tucker came bursting through with a wild look in his beady eyes. I narrowly escaped being eaten.
This is my little Tucker:
He looks terrifying, doesn't he? Perhaps he was just angry that I made him pose for photos.
Yes, the above is a bit of hyperbole. Okay, a LOT of hyperbole!! But it was entertaining, no? :)
Really and truly, the reason I only wrote 1500 words yesterday is because I was working on Valentines for my loved ones. Personally, I like the nightmare of the little dog a bit more.
I hope you were entertained today. I am off to write some more BOOK!! It is 9am, after all, and I am good and warmed up now.
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
I am sitting at my computer, typing away, when all of a sudden my maltchi, Tucker, begins chasing his tail. Round and round he went until suddenly, he stopped and looked up at me with his furry little face then opened his mouth and roared like a lion. I have to say, I was taken a bit aback and was a bit frightened out of my wits. Okay, I was terrified and confused! When his roar came to an end, he charged me, snarling and gnashing his teeth like he was going to have me for a snack.
I jumped off of my chair so quickly it turned over and I ran for the bathroom so I could get behind a locked door. He is just a tiny dog and there's no way he can come through a door, right? Wrong. I got into the bathroom and shut and locked the door just before he was able to grab my ankle with his sharp little teeth. While sitting in the bathroom, my mind went haywire as I imagined all kinds of scenarios to explain the reason for my dog's behavior. I thought, maybe he was bitten by a werewolf, perhaps he ate some bad food, and I even wondered if maybe he had cat-scratch fever - because of the lion roar.
He started hurling his tiny body against the door at an attempt to break through to me. After just four hits, the door began to splinter and I began to shake. Tremors started at my feet and, after just a few moments, my entire body was vibrating so hard I almost threw up. I knew I was going to die. That knowledge sickened me and made me cry for the loss that so many people would suffer. What would my kids think? Who would care for them when I was gone? How would my parents handle it? All of these questions had no answers but caused me to straighten my back, force down my gorge, and control my tremors so I could think straight. I began to look for a way out.
After searching the bathroom for a minute, I noticed that there was an air duct in the ceiling. I quickly stepped to the top of the toilet and took out the loose screws. I hauled myself up into the shaft at the same moment that the bathroom door shattered and my little Tucker came bursting through with a wild look in his beady eyes. I narrowly escaped being eaten.
This is my little Tucker:
He looks terrifying, doesn't he? Perhaps he was just angry that I made him pose for photos.
Yes, the above is a bit of hyperbole. Okay, a LOT of hyperbole!! But it was entertaining, no? :)
Really and truly, the reason I only wrote 1500 words yesterday is because I was working on Valentines for my loved ones. Personally, I like the nightmare of the little dog a bit more.
I hope you were entertained today. I am off to write some more BOOK!! It is 9am, after all, and I am good and warmed up now.
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
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