Some news: I'm now in a writing group! I was fortunate enough to happen upon four other like–minded souls who are also aspiring novelists. Each meeting, the five of us kick things off with a writing prompt and a seven–minute writing blitz. Though unpolished and completely raw, the writing that flows from these prompt has become an integral part of my growth as a writer this year.
A couple meetings ago, one of my groupies, Amanda, challenged us to write single–sentence horror stories. Horror is a genre I have ZERO experience with (in both reading and writing), so this prompt was . . . fun? Disturbing? It's exhilarating and spooky to see what terrors ones imagination can create when prompted.
Without further adieu: this is what I came up with. (inside scoop: I'm most proud of—and most disturbed by—number two)
A single hand, rising above the slime, makes a hail mary reach for a loose branch before slipping under the surface.
Three monkeys circle a pile of bones, screeching for a turn to wear the t-shirt.
A dozen cars, wilting on deflated tires, face a playground where the swings twirl, empty.
A hearth, laden with ashes, holds two charred objects in its pile: the binding of a book and a silver locket.
Beneath the trampoline is a single banana, a maniacal sharpie grin scrawled across its peel.
I took this photograph about a month ago, while on a walk along Mirror Lake trail. This bird sang such a curious song. Should I ever need to write a single sentence horror story about him, it might go something like this: feathered wings survey the scene of misfired ammunition.