Wow, its been a long time since I’ve posted any fiction on here. Actually, its been a while since I’ve successfully written anything at all. It’s hard to get back into the mood of writing when you’ve been away for so long, as I was shown when I tried to restart on one of my novels.
In an effort to cure whatever is looming over me and to earn my visitors back (no one looks at my blog anymore…whoops) I have decided to take part in the Story A Day Challenge. Writing is hard for me, I’ll admit it. I seem to be able to write during NaNoWriMo season just fine, but the rest of the year is a lull when it comes to fiction. My biggest problem is that I’m scared to publish my writing until I feel it is perfect. That’s why I have never really shared anything long or overly complex. I got scared at how people will react to it and I worry constantly that I’m not a good enough writer. That’s why I’m excited about this new challenge, even if I’m joining in a few days late. The program promotes writing daily no matter the quality or the quantity.
I am starting on Day Four, but I do plan to go back and write the first three prompts for you guys.
A person wakes up, not quite remembering what happened the night before, and is surprised and upset by what they see outside the window.
Colton woke clutching his head, nails puncturing the skin like it was a tomato. The pain throbbed up and down his skull, from ear to ear and mouth to scalp, then it was gone, almost like a lingering nightmare that had forgotten to let go. He sat up quicker than expected, his back aching and his arms numb.
His mind raced, and it wasn’t winning. What happened? How did I get home? At least, he assumed it was his home. Everything looked the same in the dark. He let his feet swing to the floor and gradually pulled himself into a standing position, grasping the desk beside him. Ah, so I am home, he realized, relief spreading through him.
The clock on the desk was out and Colton groaned. Did the power go out?
He stumbled across the room and found the light-switch, flicking it on and squinting from the immediate rays of blinding light. I guess the power isn’t out, then. He grabbed the alarm clock and pulled it from the plug. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a clock stop working. He set it down by the door so that he would remember to buy a new one, then looked up at his reflection in the mirror.
His normally slicked-back hair was messier than ever, twigs and leaves buried beneath the brown locks. He was still wearing his black Motley Crue T-shirt and a pair of grass-stained blue jeans. I don’t own a pair of stained jeans. “What happened,” he asked aloud.
His mind picked up the pace. He remembered going out to the school with his friend Gabe with a few video cameras. “Cameras,” he sighed. “Why would I bring cameras to the school…with Gabe?” I don’t usually talk to myself either.
The thought flew in his brain as though he had served it and his body continued to swing the racket, only for the game to keep going on and on. Flew. Flew. Fly. I was flying.
He knew he had hit the jackpot. Yesterday he had gone to the school at night to show Gabe that he could fly, and it had gone wrong. He flew, but the crash…that’s why his body hurt all over. He chuckled at his returning memory, He could fly! But what did Gabe think? Had he seen it? Did he catch it on camera?
The sound of squeaky brakes outside returned him to reality. He rushed to the window and lifted the shades. The bright yellow school bus was already picking up his peers.
“That stupid clock!” He yelled, throwing on some clean clothes. Then he rushed to the bathroom, splashed some water on his hair to smooth it down, and brushed his teeth in record time. He didn’t want to be late for school again or his parents would find out. And what would I tell them? That I can fly? He smiled at the thought and headed downstairs. He opened the front door and unlocked the car with his remote. If only it were safe enough to fly.