“Be quiet someone is in there.”
“Who is it?”
“I have no idea. It is somebody who’s working.”
“How do you know she’s working?”
“Light over the computer. Back to the windows. Certainly not someone having a holiday.”
“What do we do now?”
“I’m not sure. We can’t bust in there now.”
“What about all that loot that was rumored to be in there.”
“I guess we will have to hit another place.”
“Aw come on. One look at us and she’ll faint.”
“We can’t take that chance. What if she screams and some guy comes out with a gun.”
“What’s the chance he’ll be able to hit us both?”
“So you are volunteering to be shot.”
“Well, no. I see what you mean.”
“I think we are going to have to settle for some other place.”
“You told me you saw the loot.”
“Yes, I did.”
“It will just torture you.”
“Yeah, but better to dream than not.”
“Okay. There was cheese, peanut butter, and walnuts.”
“Go on. You don’t mean it?”
“That’s what I saw.”
“You know the last time I had cheese I had to slide it out of that stupid four way snap trap.”
“When’s the last time you had walnuts?”
“I can’t even remember, but I had to drop one once when the cat showed up.”
“Me I never eat peanut butter. They always use peanut butter on those snap traps.”
“Man I’m starving.”
“Let’s go to the barn and get some grain.”
“I guess that will have to do. Be careful that damn owl has been around lately.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would think people don’t like mice very much.”
“Don’t say that. I have some pretty tender feelings.”
My effort was:
Alone, she sat there in her study
All day, and well into the night.
Her thinking sometimes became muddy
But she had a story to write.
It’s been years since her father had told her
That she could spin tales really well
And she really should try to be bolder
For she had a story to tell.
So she moved from her dark little hovel
To a place that would give her more air,
More freedom to work on her novel;
Yes, she had a story to share.
Her motives weren’t all altruistic
She had to make money as well.
Her agent would soon go ballistic
If she had no story to sell.
That’s why, for those long hours, she toiled
Correcting, then writing again.
She worked like an engine well oiled
As she strove her story to pen.
But why would she do this? you wonder.
I asked her the same, she replied,
“What can I do but knuckle under,
When I have this story inside?”
On to this week’s challenge: Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at email@example.com before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here – pingbacks don’t often work.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.