A few days ago I offered to write a sentence or so of any story you asked for. Three people (Kelly Stiles, A.C. Wise, and Mike Allen) took me up on the challenge, and in return I wrote a lot more than a sentence. Here are those pieces.
Kelly asked for “the story of a cat, his boy and how they saved the world together.” After pointing out that sounded like a friend’s comic book which is basically that story, I thought of a different take on the idea:
Earl surveyed the wreckage, several blocks of first flattened and then devastated but still standing buildings, radiating out from underneath that oddly pulsating ball of light which hung in the ashen sky.
“We have to get closer,” he said. “The device will only work if we’re within 1000 feet. Of course, at that range another pulse would vaporize us, but if we can shut this one down, the science geeks predict the rest will collapse too, in a cascade effect.” His voice was calm, his muscles tense but still. Only the tip of his ginger tail swished.
“You’re the boss,” the boy said, shouldering a gun nearly as big as he was. “Just tell me what to do.”
A.C. wanted “The one about the reverse astral projectionist who summoned distant places to her in her sleep, please.”
David knocked again, harder. “Elizabeth! Open the door! You have something …” He looked down at the wet carpet, smelled the faintly salty water spreading out from beneath his roommate’s bedroom door. “There’s something leaking in there. Did you get a fish tank?”
There was no answer. The wet carpet sucked at his toes. Behind him, the dampness was spreading into the hallway.
“I’m coming in,” he said loudly, turning her door knob slowly.
Inside, Elizabeth was sound asleep, lying on her side in her bed, one leg sticking out from underneath her blankets.
Next to her a palm tree had gouged out a piece of the ceiling and bent unnaturally to one side, too tall for the room. Sand piled up at its base, spilling into her closet and under her dresser. A small crab scuttled back and forth across the sand, confused.
“Oh, no,” David sighed. “Not again.”
And Mike, never to outdone in the slightly weird department, asked for “The one about the woman who finds the World Serpent beneath the subway system.”
At that moment, she blamed the shoes. There was more to it than that, another part of her brain screamed at her, and she felt, in a disconnected way, that she should do something other than stand there, staring at a scale the size of her head, and blaming her brand new $340 pumps, but she wasn’t sure what came next. She had been waiting for her train when her aching left heel made her lean down to adjust her ankle strap…
That made her purse spill open, and while she was frantically scooping up its contents, someone in the crowd kicked her smartphone, and then someone else, knocking it away from her like she was caught in a scene from a slapstick comedy. She chased after it, scraping a knee getting up, yelling at the sea of uncaring feet which kept her phone just out of reach, but no one stopped to help.
She remembered that it bounced down into a stairwell she’d never noticed before. The sound of the phone clacking against the stairs kept her rushing downward, downward, as the tile changed to cream and green and florescent overhead lights were replaced by bright globes set into the ceiling.
And still her phone tumbled downward.
At some point it must have stopped falling, because she was vaguely aware that she held it in her hand, but the thing in front of her, the enormous impossible creature filling the tunnel, that had her attention now. Her feet throbbed, and for one horrible moment she looked down at them, and at those heels – imported from Italy, cool grey, a sexy twist to her business suits, made from the finest snakeskin.
“Oh god,” she whispered, her head snapping up to stare again at the side of the giant serpent. “Listen, about the shoes …”
Thanks for playing!