A shadowy figure darted through the periphery of her vision.
Caroline swung her head to the left, simultaneously knocking back her chair and stumbling away from the doorway through which she was sure she had just seen someone pass. Breathing heavily, she looked around for a weapon, grabbing a hairbrush before discarding it in favor of a letter opener.
She struggled to control her breathing and slid silently up to the doorway. Peeking around the corner, she saw no one. She held her breath, listening, hearing only silence.
After seconds that passed like hours, she crept from the room. Stealthily, she went from room to room, ready to confront whomever had broken in, or so she kept telling herself. She reached the living room having encountered no one. The door remained locked, including the interior lock. There was no way anyone had come in that way, as there was no way to open that lock from the other side of the door.
Caroline dropped her hand to her side and let the letter opener drop to the floor. She ran her hand across her forehead, grimacing at the beads of sweat that had gathered there. Leaving the letter opener on the floor, she walked into the kitchen.
“A cool drink. A cool drink and a relaxing afternoon. You’re just overtired,” she murmured to herself. She poured a tall glass of tea, dropped in a couple of cubes of ice. Putting the pitcher back in the fridge, she reached for the container where she kept slices of lemon.
From the corner of her eye, a dark shape passed through the kitchen.
The lemons and the container dropped to the floor, as Caroline ran into the living room to grab the phone.
“I need to see Dr. Stone. Today.”
Want more? Mwah hah hah!
So, I teach a creative writing class. A couple of years ago, I had the most phenomenal group of kids, so much so that it was more of a writer's group. I was able to write along with them, and while we worked on our short horror stories, I started writing one called "Vulnerable."
We had read an article about the elements of horror, and the assignment I gave was to follow those elements in their writing. The article really struck a chord in me, and I wrote one of the best pieces I think I've ever written in my life! Long story short, it's about a woman in a rest stop bathroom stall...When are you more vulnerable than when you're on the toilet?
I wrote that story. Then, I wrote another one. Then another one. I went on a writing spree, actually finishing everything that I started. I had never done that before.
So, not wanting to go the traditional route (wanting to just get it out there and to have a keepsake for my future grandkids), I self-published. It made a pretty fair showing, enough so that I could take my Hubby out to a couple of nice dinners!
I still get that itch to write like that. I have so many other things on my plate right now that writing has taken a spot on the periphery, though I have been taking notes on ideas. I look forward to a day when I can pay those ideas the attention that they are due!