Today I’m going to try a little experiment in writing media. I was inspired to do this both by the free writing challenge I did last week, but also by a post I read concerning what media writers write to. Writers are artists as much as musicians, painters, and those we typically associate with the word. However, when does a writer experiment and when do they play it safe for publication? It’s a tough line and there are no right answers. However, I think this post speaks a lot of wisdom to the debate. What the two combined to inspire me to do is this: I am going to free write a story here on this blog. Doesn’t sound too experimental, does it? It might not be. For me it is. Here’s the “experimental” part: There is no plot. I haven’t any particular idea in my head. I’m not going to follow any genre rules. The writing will flow, and we’ll see where this story goes. It’ll probably be a bit of sci-fi, a bit of fantasy, a bit of everything. (Sorry, no erotica. I’m not going there). It might be a good story, it might be a load of manure. However, I think it’s going to be a lot of fun to do. My only rules will be: to free write for 10 minutes; to link back to the previous day’s post each time; post some news in the top, kind of where this information is now, if I think there’s information that you might want to hear. without further ado, here we go:
It was cold. That’s all that I can remember about the day when I found out we weren’t alone in the universe. Bitterly cold. The day hadn’t started out cold. The storm blew in when I sat at the diner finishing my third cup of what was supposed to be coffee. Sludge would be more appropriate. Still, it got me going most days. As I sat there, a fierce wind blew into town. Within moments, ice had covered the roads, the cars in the parking lot, and even the plate glass windows of the diner. I don’t remember who spoke first. Most of us were dumbstruck. It was just unnatural. I think everyone of us knew in his gut that something very wrong was about to happen, but what do you do in a moment like that? You rationalize. You tell yourself that this was a freak storm. Yes, the entire town just froze over in the matter of seconds, but that’s what freak storms do. Right?
Then the rumbling started. Spoons, plates, cups, and saucers began to chitter chitter. Slow at first, but then violent. Pictures fell off the walls. One of the waitresses screamed. I don’t know if it was because she was scared, or because her signed picture of Brad Pitt crashed to the floor. Maybe a bit of both.
I jumped to my feet and rushed the door. I wanted to try and get a better look outside. Maybe some answers could be seen down the road. The door was frozen shut, though. We were trapped.
“What’s going on, Bob?” Megan asked. She’s the waitress that screamed over the picture.
“How would I know?” I said distractedly. I kept pushing against the door. A few rams with my shoulder, but I stopped. The door wasn’t going to budge, but my shoulder was about to.
“Stand back,” Mike said. Mike’s a deputy sheriff and a good buddy of mine. He thinks that most problems can be solved with his gun. This was a case in point. He whipped out his .38 and shot at the windows. He was right this time.
Time up for today! Check in tomorrow!
~Remember, this is a copyrighted creation. See my notice in the sidebar. I would love to hear your thoughts on this story in the comments below and on Facebook. ~
Want to know more about this story or other stories? Keep up to date via my Newsletter. Click over on the side or from the Menu at the top of the page.