Sunday, May 1

Writing Prompt: The Chain Story: Not Again

By Janice Hardy, @Janice_Hardy

This week’s prompt is a chain story! I’ll give you the first line, and someone else comments and builds off that line. Next commenter will build off that line, and so on.

In the event of two commenters posting at the same time and sending the story in different directions, just pick the line you like best, or try to incorporate both if you can.

As she opened her eyes, she thought, this is happening entirely too often.


Let the fun begin.


13 comments:

  1. The metal bars, the stained concrete floor, and the wooden bench that was, thankfully, empty this time.

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  2. Although, another inmate might tell her who waited on the other side of the steel door -- the government, or the good guys.

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  3. If it was the government, she had to get her story straight about Leon and what happened.

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  4. Getting her story straight was the easy part. The hard part was not knowing if Leon had spoken to anyone in the time she had been in here.

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  5. Scratch that, it wasn't hard at all--Leon's big mouth always yapped.

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  6. The more this last thought sunk in, the clearer it became that she had to get out of here, now.

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  7. She made a mental checklist of her assets. One pillow, two blankets, one steel bed-frame, an iron sink, an iron toilet, one wooden bench. The walls were made of cinder block, the floor solid concrete. A single lightbulb flickered on the ceiling.

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  8. "I swear to GOD", she thought to herself. "If this is his doing, I'll kill him with my bare hands". The thought made her smile.

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  9. It had been a while since she'd killed anyone with her bare hands. Last time she'd used a bazooka.

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  10. A thought suddenly struck her. She pulled the wooden bench into the middle of the tiny room, hopped up and stretched until her fingertips touched the lightbulb...got it!

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  11. She struck the lightbulb against the metal bars of her jail cell and pressed the fabric of her sheets against the warm bulb until she felt heat radiating from beneath the folds and a hole burning through the fabric. Things were about to get hot.
    Water pooled at her feet. She turned around to see Leon standing behind her with the iron pipe from her sink gripped tightly in his hands.

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  12. "How did you get in here?"
    Leon stepped closer, raising the pipe above his head. "Why didn't you tell me, Julia?"

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