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I have no blog idea for today. That seems to be a playground theme this week. I don't know what it is - maybe the spring weather or everything on my to do list. Whatever it is my brain is zapped.
So I want to do something fun and creative :-) We're going to play a little game. I want everyone to participate (yes, that includes you lurkers out there. I swear I won't bite. Well, not unless you want me to...).
I'm going to post a paragraph. I want the next person to write the next paragraph and post it to the comments section. Then the next person who reads it, write the next paragraph and post to the comments section. Let's see what kind of story we can get going - how long we can make it - and whether we have a coherent product at the end. Feel free to let your imagination run wild. There is no right or wrong. There is no scoring, critiquing or editing. Simply go with your first instinct. Post anonymously if you don't want anyone to know it was you. You don't have to be a writer - in fact, if you're not a writer maybe this is your chance to try your hand at it. Just have fun.
Marcy walked up the concrete steps to the kitchen door. Her toes scrunched in her beat-up Nikes against the need to turn around and run away. Again. Reaching for the tarnished knob, she wondered what she would find inside the old farmhouse. Certainly the same familiar scent, dark and musty but with the faint hint of...blueberries. She never had figured out where that came from. Shaking the memory away, she flexed her fingers over the knob and screwed up the courage to twist. No matter what she found one thing was certain. Jim would not be behind that door. Not anymore.
Enjoy!
Instigator
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It had been ten years since she'd run from Jim and the life they'd had together. Ten years since she packed a bag in the night and went into town to catch a bus to anywhere. Marcy raised her hand to her cheek expecting the throb of Jim's perfect backhand to still be there. But it was gone. And so was Jim.
I blamed myself for him loosing his temper for a long time but not anymore. Over the past ten years I learned a lot about being strong and independent. I made a good life for myself standing on my own two feet and not taking orders from anyone. Well it seem that has changed now. The letter from the lawyer in charge of Jim's will said he'd get a court order and have a warrant sworn out for my arrest if I didn't show up for the meeting scheduled for tomorrow.
I had no idea why it was so important that I had to be present. The lawyer's threat riddled me with questions and brought back old memories I had successfully put to rest. Now, with my hand upon the knob, I looked at the weathered pine door and knew without a doubt the old saying, 'you can never go home', was true. I wasn't the same woman Jim had thrown around. I could never settle back into the life I had before. Resolving to stand my ground before the lawyers, the law, and the people of the town, I turned the knob, pushed open the door and stepped over the stoop, but what met my eyes stopped me in me dead in my tracks.
The Problem Child hurls water balloons at Instigator for assigning homework on the blog...
"Who the hell are you?" Molly asked of the man sprawled out on the living room sofa. Jim might be dead, but this was still his house. Their house, actually.
The man immediately jerked to attention from his nap and searched around the room for what startled him. "Me? Who the hell are you?"
"This is my house and I demand to know why you are in it!" Replied Marcy. The stranger stood there with a puzzled look as he watched the breathtaking redhead firmly place her fists on her hips. When suddenly a flash of recognition spread across his face. Surely she isn't Jim's long lost wife. She was nothing but a scrawny submissive 20 year old when he had heard is cousin had become physical with his new wife and she disappeared in the dark of the night. "I asked you a question," Marcy demanded.
"I'm Jim's cousin, Daniel," he offered with contrived machismo. "To say I'm surprised to see you here is an understatement. I thought Jim put the fear of God into you a long time ago."
"Jim did a lot of things back then but none of that's your business." She said with a frown, unwilling to be intimidated by Daniel's size, good looks or his claim to be Jim's cousin.
"I'll show you the fear of God." Marcy took a tentative step backward, searching in her bag for her cell phone as she went. Flipping it open, she punched 9-1-1 with halting motions, her eyes trained on the lounging man on Jim's sofa - her sofa. She had no intention of letting this would-be squatter out of her sight no matter who he claimed to be.
"Hello. I'd like to report an intr-" Marcy's words sputtered off as a burst of water showered down over her suitable black dress.
"What the-" She looked down at the cold stain spreading across her chest and the tiny pink pieces of rubber clinging to her lapel.
"Water balloons? Who's throwing water balloons?"
LOL! Finish what you started.
"You're lucky it's not more lethal than that, lady," PC hissed from outside the window. "I've killed off characters for less than that."
Then a barrage of balloons flew through the window, spraying water and latex everywhere they landed.
Shaking off the last drops of cold water, Marcy determined to focus on one problem at a time.
She ignored the tightening of her nipples, unsure whether it was from the coldness of the water or the heat of the stranger's stare. The voice from her phone asking what her emergency was drew her attention.
"There's an intruder in my--" Marcy gasped as a hand reached out and confiscated her phone. How dare he?
"What do you think you're doing? This is my house and --"
"No, lady, this is MY house. I'm the one who's been living here for the past three years, not you. Which means I'll be asking the questions. Just what are you doing back in this town? In Jim's house?"
(Can I use the word nipples on the blog? :)
Marcy remembered one of the lessons from her assertiveness training. Never let them see you sweat. Of course, how could anyone tell she was sweating with her black dress drenched.
Answering a question with a question to buy herself a little time, she squared her shoulders and quirked an eyebrow.
"Jim never told me about any cousins so why should I believe you are who you say you are?"
The man eyed her with contempt but before he could answer, he gasped and put one hand to his throat.
"Lady," he croaked, "you better call for help after all."
He took three steps backward and collapsed on the sofa.
"Why should I?" Marcy asked, eyeing him warily.
"Latex allergy," he whispered just as he passed out.
And y'all thought the water balloons were a bad thing...
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