I think I’m changing my mind.
I read fiction almost exclusively and still — I have a strong conviction there is not one single story inside me.
It seems I could be wrong. Maybe it would even happen again. It’s only a micro story.
It all starts when I feel inspired to suggest a story prompt to a few friends. One friend is quick to offer several attempts but he isn’t quite catching the vision I have in mind. I want a few paragraphs (at least) showing heart stopping emotion. It could be fear, but it could easily be another emotion. The prompt is …. rounding the corner his/her heart stopped.
Now, I’m feeling the need to put my vision on paper somehow, as an example.
I’ve had a few months to let this idea percolate and since I’ve promised our writers group something for critique this week…
Maybe pressure is not a bad thing.
I’m pretty happy with just coming up with a fiction story never mind whether it’s any good or not. Actually, I think it’s not too bad for a newbie. They say you begin to sound like those you hang out with. They also say if you want to write, read. I seem to have the reading part well in hand. It has helped abundantly.
So… here’s my little story.
Kicking at the occasional pebble or clump of grass as he left school behind, Benny was in no hurry to get home. It was Friday. He had the whole weekend ahead of him. Freedom. No worries about homework or stern teachers. School was okay but there were lots of other things he liked better. Time with his friends, and baseball – that was fun. His team has a game tomorrow and some batting practice tonight would be good if he wants to be ready to do his part. They need to win if they expect to stay in the tournament.
He wasn’t paying much attention to life around him as he concentrated on his weekend baseball plans. The fire truck rushing by several streets over barely even registered. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner and recognized the house on fire that his heart stopped. GRAMMA!
It was his grandmother’s house. He broke into a run. He had to get to her. She would have trouble getting out of the house by herself, he had to help her.
He was almost there when a strong arm wrapped around his waist and hauled him off his feet. NOOOO. He kept screaming as he twisted and kicked, desperate to get loose. The next thing he knew he was behind a fire truck with tears streaming down his face. Gramma!
He hadn’t noticed all the fire trucks, ambulance, police cars, or people running everywhere. His ears didn’t pick up on the big burly fireman trying to talk to him. They kept moving toward an ambulance where he could see someone with an oxygen mask sitting on the stretcher. Gramma!
He was so scared the very sight of her couldn’t stop his tears. Did this mean she was okay? He had to know. The minute his feet touched the ground he raced past everyone and was beside her before anyone could object. She looked like she was ok. She was sitting up and hugged him tight but the man looking after her said they were taking her to the hospital to be checked out. The smoke, there’d been too much smoke before the fireman was able to carry her out.
This brought a new worry. Gramma was going to the hospital and they said he couldn’t go with her. What was going to happen to him? The house was burnt but he couldn’t stay there alone anyway. Soon he decided someone else must have thought about this too. Mrs. Carter, Grandma’s next-door neighbor, came over to say he could stay with her tonight. They’d have to see but they might even be able to pop up to the hospital for a quick visit before bed. Supper would be macaroni and cheese with wieners. Oh… his favorite, how did she know?
As he slowly drifted off to sleep a new worry crept into his thoughts. If the house is too damaged to live in what will happen? Where would Grandma stay and how would her house get fixed? Could it be fixed?
The next morning after a yummy breakfast Benny and Mrs. Carter headed to the hospital, Grandma was coming home today. He could hardly wait to see her and make sure she was alright.
Just outside her door he spied them. MOM! DAD! How did they make it home so quickly from their week away? Someone must have called them.
Whew. Now he could relax. Mom and Dad were here and they would know what to do. Should he tell them how scared he was?
Writing this was fun, I hope inspiration hits me again one day. Today is a slow day for books and slow makes it a good day to post this. My goal with this story was to make you feel something. Did it work?