A picture says a
thousand words. Write them.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a
metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about
this picture.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your
block!
http://writeworld.tumblr.com/post/86726188724/writers-block-a-picture-says-a-thousand-words
She always took the short cut
through the cemetery. No matter how many times her mother told her it was
dangerous. She ignored a lot of advice that her mother gave her. She went on
constantly about finding her body dumped in a ditch. Why was it always ditches?
She was smoking, too as she was
walking along. Her school backpack slung over one shoulder. Her mother was a
worrisome old fart who just didn’t understand what it was like to be young.
She constantly nagged her about
not contacting her. As if she had time to call or text her mother? She was busy
calling and texting her friends. Or snap chatting them. Her mother just cramped
her style.
Silly old bitch.
And then she saw the man.
It startled her. For a second she
felt afraid.
He was tall with close cropped
hair and a trimmed beard. Buttoning his coat as if he had just stepped outside
his front door. The problem was that he was in a graveyard. There were no
houses here.
The front door that he had just
stepped out of was a tree. A large tree that she had noticed a dozen times
before. She had always thought that it was very healthy for a tree that grew in
a graveyard, or maybe it got lots of fertilizer? Worms... they were good for
the earth weren’t they? There had to be lots of worms in a graveyard.
He looked around and she ducked
behind a gravestone. All her mother’s warnings flashed through her head.
She knew somehow that this man was
dangerous.
Straining her ears to listen for a
sound, she realised that she still had her cigarette and that the upward
streaming smoke gave her away. Butting it out quickly in the grass she froze to
listen again.
Footsteps. Careful and measured
approached her hiding place.
Could she run? Not with the bag
over her shoulder. It was too heavy and it would take precious seconds to dump.
She could not do it now without making a noise.
Silence.
Her phone made a text received
noise; a speech sample from her favorite anime. It was a moan. She could not
shut it up quickly enough.
~~~~~~
Her phone, bag and the stubbed out
cigarette were found the next morning.
It took her mother too long to
report her missing, but the police did not blame her. Her daughter had a habit
of worrying her mother.
~~~~
© AM Gray 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment