It is important to stay ‘in shape’ as a fiction writer. Today, I gave myself the writing prompt “It was done”. A goal: 500 words. And one hour. Here is the result.
It was done. Something about the finality was comforting, but it was also terrifying. It raised the hair on my neck and sent tingling doubts darting like swallows through the darkening of my mind. My mind. Oh, I could remember when it had been mine.
It was done. The gun felt heavy and smoke filtered softly from the short barrel. The shot had been a surprise. So fast. So final. Weeks and months of agonizing and questioning and wondering if I was mad. And it was over so quickly.
It was in the things she said! Hidden, encrypted daggers behind innocent conversation. And her eyes. Did I get the message? Oh yes. There were nibbling doubts from the beginning. Maybe I was seeing something that wasn’t there? Maybe I was becoming a tad forgetful…overworked. But then she would tweak the paranoia. Her eyes would twinkle the understanding. I could never ask about it. She knew that. That was her trump card.