Thursday, September 5, 2013

Prompt: Writing in the middle of the story

It’s late at night, and I’m sitting at my desk, the large blonde ask rolltop that sort of swallows up my over-sized monitor … and occasionally myself. The dog has quit her futile side approaches to beg for my attention and is snoozing on the rocking chair, looking forlorn. The iTunes playlist finished some time ago, and I’m typing in the still silence. The overhead light is off, and I work in the reflected glow of my online words.

Until I become aware of a change. Not sound. But there is light around me, a deep, reddish haze. My eyes drift past the large white screen that fills my view, and my desk is gone, along with the wall behind. My entire living room has vanished. I’m sitting in the open. Not a field – there’s no sign of green among the scorched earth. Around me, a battle. I blink. It’s still there. Not men. Angels, gleaming white and silver and gold. Huge wings fanning out as they fly or wrestle on the ground. And they wrestle demons. Red, black, leathery, feathered. Stone gargoyles, come to life, fight the demons – they must be on the side of the angels.

The sky above us is black with grey clouds roiling all around. Lightning flashes inside the clouds, but it doesn’t strike down to the ground. There is no thunder. Still no sound at all.

My mouth is open in astonishment. I snap it shut and shrink back in my chair, afraid to be in the middle of this great battle. The blinking cursor on my screen catches my eye. An empty page, not the project I was working on. I understand, and I recoil. Without meaning to, I wail, “But I don’t want to write about angels and demons!”

The battle around me freezes, figures locked together. Their heads all turn in unison toward me, regarding me in silence. A giant silver, feather-winged angel stands with arms upraised, hands clasped in the grip of a terrifying leathery-red demon. They open their mouths together and deep voices rasp, “Who. Asked. You?”

The battle resumes as if it had not paused. No one pays me any attention now. I sink into my chair and pull it closer to the base of my desk. I know with complete certainty I don’t want to draw their attention again. I focus my eyes on the screen, let the battlefield around me fade away, and begin to type…

Dogs in house
Houdini, Brindle
Time writing:
20 minutes
September word count:

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