Once again, my creative writing has dried to zero.
Once again, I'm turning to the randomizer to try to kick start my discipline.
The Inspire Me app picks three words at random, and from that, I try to construct a concise story using those three words.
Wish me luck.
leather, help, left
What's left of me? Stuck at the bottom of this ravine, the walls impossible to climb, especially with one arm badly sprained, if not broken.
This was supposed to be our reconciliation hike, working out our problems and coming back together. She had to know I was serious about putting in the work - the Rezlin Retreat was the premiere marriage counseling weekend in Colorado, and not only was I willing to come, I gladly forked over the $3,000 for the fee.
We tred into the woods, our backpacks stuffed, our hearts filled with hope (or so I thought). When we came to the edge of the ravine, I looked down. It made me dizzy, and I started to teeter. I reached back my hand for her to hold me steady. Instead of her help, I got the tiniest of shoves, enough to cause me to tumble down into the ravine.
Collapsed at the bottom, clutching my now useless right arm, I cried up to her. "Get help, honey! I think I'm stuck down here!"
Her placid face irradiated hate. "Yep. You're stuck down there. Goodbye, ex-lover."
That was a day ago. I'm still down in the ravine. I'm thirsty. I'm hungry. I contemplate whether my leather belt is edible.
Surely, they will come soon.
Surely.
shake, lovely, plural
I wish I was the only one. But there are plural Toms at this school. So when someone calls my name in the hallway, I'm never sure it's really me they're talking to. Every time I think it's me, it's not, and I look stupid responding back. Every time I decide it's me, I ignore it, and I look rude.
The girl I have the biggest crush on, the lovely Ruthy Ann, does not seem to comprehend that I exist. But one time, I heard her shout my name. I began to shake. Should I turn around and acknowledge it? Why subject myself to that humiliation?
I made the dramatic decision to turn around. She was just inches away from me.
She handed me a book. "Here. You left this in class." She smiled briefly and then bounded away.
She never spoke to me again.
close, gain, supply
I clean my clothes with Gain. It's the only detergent I'll use. When my supply runs low, I go to the store and buy more. If they are out, I'll try another store. And another. And if I can't find it, I won't get anything else.
If I have no Gain, I just let my clothes get dirty and smelly.
Right now, I have been out for two weeks.
Don't stand. Don't stand. Don't stand so close to me.
slowly, me, outside
Agoraphobia is a bite and a B. I want to go outside, but I just can't get through the front door no matter how hard I try. I try to go fast - I can't do it. I try to go slowly - that's even worse. What's wrong with me?
Why I am so afraid of zombies?
cage, rain, Betsy
Betsy wanted to go out. But she felt like a rat in a cage. Outside, the acid rain fell hard.
Oh. And zombies. There were also zombies.
Zombies. Best story go-to ever!
