Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Writing Prompt Wednesday

Writing prompt Wednesday is an opportunity to pull yourself away from whatever you are doing, take a quick break, and boost that creativity.

Writing prompt: She screamed. . .

I can think of many different ways for this to go. How will you take it?


Ceri Hebert July 9, 2009 at 7:12 PM  

She screamed so loudly that Kyle, who was on his early morning run stopped dead in his tracks, his heart leaping in his chest.

The house loomed like a dark shadow against the gloomy early morning sky, and even though no lights shone from inside, he went through the front door, grateful Lydia had fallen into the small town habit of not locking doors.

Finding her room was easy enough but he had no idea what he’d have to deal with once he got to her side.

She slept and that shocked him, that she could scream so loudly and not wake up. Warily he went to her side and squatted down.

“Lydia,” he whispered and when he got no response he repeated himself, louder this time. Finally she opened her eyes, just a crack at first and then wider.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Lydia pulled back from Kyle. Her eyes were unfocused, sleep still hung on to part of her.

“Shhh,” Kyle reached out for her hand in an attempt to soothe her, but she yanked back as if he were some kind of dangerous creature.
“I was out for a run and I heard you screaming bloody murder in here. I’m glad you don’t keep your door locked. I would have kicked it down.”

“I was chasing after Hannah,” Lydia’s voice had calmed somewhat. “She went into the woods towards the pond and I was so scared she was going to drown.”

Lydia let Kyle take her hand. Her fingers wrapped around his. He moved onto the edge of the bed, far enough away so he wasn’t touching anything more than her hand. He was shocked at how cold her skin was until he felt the breeze coming in from the open window next to the bed. No wonder why he heard her yells.

“I don’t know why I dreamed that she was here. She didn’t die here,” Lydia continued, more to herself than to Kyle. “And I love those woods and that pond, but it seemed so evil out there, like something was just waiting to eat her up, and she was just running towards it.”

Kyle couldn’t come near to imagining the horror she had gone through when she lost her daughter. He had his Emma, and she was safe and sound.

Suddenly Lydia’s eyes cleared. It was like a fog breaking up. She looked out the window and with her free hand pulled the quilt up to her chin. Kyle wasn’t sure whether it was because she was cold or out of modesty. She was wearing a very skimpy camisole.

“What time is it?” She asked curiously.

“Just a little after five,” he replied. He should get off the bed, he thought. After all, she was fine. But he couldn’t pull himself away. Damn, he swore to himself. He wasn’t going to be attracted to her again. But as he sat there, on her bed not three feet away from her and holding her hand, he felt that that was one promise he could easily break.

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