Okay, so I did a fun little challenge. I grabbed a book I’ve never read, opened it up to a random page, took the first sentence on said page that stood out to me and created a story out of it.
I love doing little fun things like this when I don’t know what to write about. That way you don’t have to try to come up with something (newsflash- that doesn’t work when it comes to creativity anyway) you can just hop on board and go long for the ride.
If you try it- let me know! I ‘d love to read yours too.
L o c k e d u p
“We’re locked up! We’re locked up!”
The ever increasing panic in her body made her voice tremble and he could see the tears in her eyes on the verge of spilling over.
“Hey, hey. Come here.”
He gently but firmly took hold of her arm and pulled her close until she was safely tucked away in his embrace, and so they left the door to revel in its victory.
“Shhh… it’s okay, we’ll be okay.”
He didn’t feel quite this confident but he knew that right now, she needed him to be sure. To be a constant. She desperately needed to be able to grab hold of something familiar and here in this gloomy root cellar, his heartbeat was it. So right now, he would be all heartbeat. He could worry about the practicalities later.
Her breath was beginning to steady so he took another deep one for her to mimic.
“When you think about it, it really isn’t all bad.” He could feel her questioning eyes, so he quickly continued.
“Haven’t we for the longest time said that we should just screw it all and run away for a while? To some far-away, secluded place, leave the messiness of life behind and just be, just the two of us?”
At this she looked up at him and nodded, with a shadow of a smile sweeping across her face.
“Well this-” he looked around at the dirt walls “this is our getaway! Just look at it!”
He went over to the faraway corner with the sacks of wheat and gave them a grand gesture. “This is our very luxurious bed, and this,” he tipped one of the sacks over so it layed on the ground “is our lovely living room area.”
He was in full tour guide-mode by now.
“This here,” he said, running his hand over the dusty shelves filled with a wide range of mysterious bottles and glass jars “is our very own private bar! It has anything you could ask for really…” he read a couple of labels. “Cranberry juice, homemade strawberry lemonade, pickled cherries, regular pickles… anything to satisfy those late night cravings.”
He spun around, hands outstretched.
“Can’t you see? We got the luxury suite!”
She could no longer help but laugh, and he couldn’t help but feel proud he had been able to unlock her.
“You’re crazy, you know that right?” she said, tenderly giving his hand a squeeze.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware… that does change things.” He looked so genuinely concerned she had a seriously hard time keeping a straight face.
He continued; “in that case, I really would be concerned if I was you.”
“I should be concerned??”
His eyes twinkled.
“Well, I’m not the one locked up in a root cellar with a crazy person.”