We’re sorry for the preemption of yesterday’s regularly scheduled program. Duck had an after school class production I wanted to attend.
And he rocked it. That’s my boy.
Today’s Author writing prompt May 13th 2014
…Forrest serves and CeeLee smashes it back (grinning)…
Home Sweet (Hell’s) Home
Addie stood at the end of the cliff. She gripped the hand of the man (“Just call me Rog!”) as tightly as she could.
They both peered down into the darkness and they both knew what had to be done.
“Can you do this?” Rog whispered.
“Do we have a choice?” Addie shot back, irritated.
Men would never change. Fat lot of good she’d done. Educating the willfully ignorant was a lost cause.
If it weren’t, she sure as hell wouldn’t be here, holding a guy’s hand, staring down into a giant hole and preparing to jump.
All things considered, maybe it really was for the best to throw in the towel.
The acoustics of the place were as skewed as the passage of time. Trying to anticipate location damn near impossible, but the thing sounded closer.
“On the count of three?”
“Yes, damn you, can we just quit debating and do it?”
Oh yeah, definitely for the best.
Something was bothering her. Something she didn’t quite remember. Something about Hell’s Home. Hell’s Home was…what? She almost had it.
Rog started the count under his breath.
“One. Two, Thr-”
Oh holy I go commando-style because it’s sexy beer-bellied men, she knew. She had the answers. And they were bad.
Forgetting where they were, Addie blurted out.
“Wait, wait, wait! We can’t do this. It wants us to.”
Rog stopped counting and turned to look at her. The noise behind them paused. Addie looked behind her before she continued.
“I know what it all means! I have the answer. We’ve got-“
Addie shot up in bed, breathing hard. At least her psyche had changed things up, made it a bit more interesting.
Dreams were powerful things. If you stopped and thought about it, it was the most advanced weapon ever built, yet no one was afraid of it. The perfect Doom’s Day machine. How to annihilate an army without shedding a single drop.
She glanced at the clock. 12:28 am. Still punctual. She needed to remember this. She grabbed the new notebook from the bedside table and opened it to write.
And froze. Seems as though she’d been busy. The formerly pristine pages were filled with her looping scrawls.
Home Sweet Hell’s Home, Home Sweet Hell’s Home, Home Sweet Hell’s Home.
This is the ongoing short story and blog ping-pong match between my characters and the ones belonging to Forrest, from Random Thoughts.
Our rule is that all story additions have to be done using the writing prompts from Today’s Author. Because it’s fun that way.