Thursday, June 25, 2009

Every Story Paints a Picture

by Joyce

I'm going to be away from my computer today, and probably most of the weekend, so I thought I'd try something different today.

We're all going to write a short story!

Here's how it works: I'll write the first section, then each person who comments adds a little more to the story. Make it as long or as short as you like--just remember it's a short and not a novel. And hopefully, the last person to comment this evening will kindly put an end to it. Be sure to check back often to read all the additions to the story. Feel free to add to it as many times as you'd like.

Okay, here goes.

A long honk of a car horn made Angie slam on her brakes.

"You stupid bitch! Watch where you're going!"

Angie pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine. She gripped the steering wheel tighter to make her hands stop shaking. She needed to get it together. If she got caught running a red light, it would be all over. Everything she worked so hard to put into motion would be gone in an instant. She breathed deeply and told herself there was nothing to worry about. That everything would be all right. Nothing was going to go wrong.

As soon as her heart rate returned to normal, Angie started up the car again and pulled back onto the road. I'm not going to let him win, she thought. Not this time.

Okay--your turn guys. Don't disappoint me!


Wilfred Bereswill said...

She let her hand drop to the passenger seat and slide under her jacket to feel to cool steel of the forty-four magnum Smith and Wesson.

That bastard wouldn't get up this time. She'd seen the Dirty Harry films. The corners of her full lips curled, ever so slightly, at the thought of him begging her for mercy.

Gina said...

"Get real," Angie told herself. The gun was for self-protection only. Much as she might want to, she wouldn't blow him away unless he did something to deserve it. She checked her mirror and pulled back into traffic. And when he did, she would make certain it took place in public, with a lot of witnesses.

"But not them," she amended, glancing into the back seat where her two children sat, secured in car seats. She would not kill him when the kids were there.

Joyce said...


Where is everyone else. Come on guys. The story isn't finished!

queenofmean said...

At the practice range, with the gun trained on a target, she’d felt strong. The weight of the gun in her hand and the jolt when she fired it boosted her self-confidence. She wouldn’t continue living like this. She didn’t deserve this. The kids didn’t deserve this. Tonight, she’d tell him. Things have to change.

He might not be the brightest man, but even he’d see that she meant business. She allowed herself one more reassuring touch of the weapon. Oh, yes. He will take her seriously now.