Categories > Original > Drama
--------
(Prompted to write a story that had something to do with a picture made sixty years ago.)
There’s a house at the end of Vanguard Street that few brave to visit. Much is speculated, albeit with disdain. Rumors fly about the lone house with the un-kept garden, but none know for certain why Tobias Naval has not spoken a word for sixty years, why he has never sold his house on Vanguard Street.
Haunted, continually tormented, Tobias lives in silence, for no words are fit to express his anguish and pain. The only reminder of the man he once was is the pastel portrait he keeps with him always. Sixty years ago, the year of the fire that destroyed half of Fountain, Tobias fell in love with a girl. Now, Tobias was never a believer in all things idealistic and paranormal, but something about the first time he laid his eyes upon Alice sparked an indescribable feeling that can only be called Love inside him. She was not especially beautiful, not by society’s degrading standards, but to him she was an angel God-sent to bequeath him immortal.
-------
(Begin with: “A funny thing happened on the way to…”)
A funny thing happened on the way to the coffee house the other day. You know – that one down the way, on Prince Street? I take walks sometimes, often with no aim, yet often to that same coffee shop. It’s a time to reflect, to delve into those questions we seldom ask and seldom ponder. Those morning walks before the sun’s ignited allow one to loose themselves in their emotions and live without judgment; to wander into the long forgotten recesses of the mind and memory. It was on one of these walks that I happened upon a small bird. A swallow, if I am not much mistaken. At first glance, it seemed just like any other swallow, and indeed it was. Why, then, did it seize my attentions and enrapture me so? I was befuddled at the magic this small bird seemed to carry – unique from every other, yet very much the same as the next. Nonplussed, I gazed upon the still and silent swallow, perched precariously – yet wholly stable – upon a street sign, for I know firsthand that I am not one to return from my submerged state easily.
-------
(Begin with: “Camping, you and your sibling come across a cave…”)
“Sarah, come on, what’s the worst that can happen?” Never would I forgive myself for uttering those seemingly harmless words.
The little girl shifted her weight from foot to foot uneasily. I could see her teeth worrying her bottom lip and her hazel eyes constantly darting to the mouth of the cave, only a few yards away from the small boulder I stood. After still more moments with my hand outstretched, I let out an aggravated sigh and turned away, ducking my head as I entered the dark opening. Sarah, battling her fear of the unknown with the fear of being alone, waited only a few still and silent seconds before climbing the moss-covered rock I had just stepped off of and followed me in.
I will always remember the lost look on my little sister’s face as I watched her follow me, her halo of glowing golden hair lit by the noonday sun snuffing out all too quickly as she advanced.
Smiling lightly at her childish antics (for she had run to cling to me as soon as she had discovered I had not left her), I turned and walked bent almost double deeper into the still unknown cave until I was sure the roof had risen above my height – Sarah still clutching tightly to my arm – and stoop up. I of course had not been able to see past my down-turned nose as we had walked further in, but when I looked up, I could not hold back the gasp of awe and surprise when I saw what lay before us.
--------
(Kristen and Russell meet before he’s supposed to inherit a large sum of inheritance. Before he does so, however, one of them is killed. This one was a little less open to interpretation, and as such, I felt I needed to tweak it lol.)
“Who could be calling at this time of night?”
Abandoning her book – an Austen novel she had surely read many times before – Kristen got up from her snug place on the sofa and went to the door. Peering through the peephole, she gasped and backed away from the door as if burned.
*
“Come on, Kris, open up…!” he muttered furtively under his breath. When he heard her steps cease, he held his breath, anxious to see her again, and to escape the demons ravaging his tortured mind. His hand twitched, eager to push open the still-locked door. He heard her retreat quickly and he let out an anguished yell, unconsciously voicing all of his suppressed emotions long since buried – hate, anger, anxiety, helplessness, fear – all released in a cry that lasted no more than half a second. He pressed himself against the door, unaware that his clothes were still slick and wet.
*
“Kris! Krissy, please! Please, open the door!” She heard his desperate pleas as if through a muted haze. Her face bore an expression of stricken incredulity.
--------
Notes: Let me know what you think about any of these and if anyone wants me to continue with one (or two or three or all lol), just leave a review! I don’t bite. :)
(Prompted to write a story that had something to do with a picture made sixty years ago.)
There’s a house at the end of Vanguard Street that few brave to visit. Much is speculated, albeit with disdain. Rumors fly about the lone house with the un-kept garden, but none know for certain why Tobias Naval has not spoken a word for sixty years, why he has never sold his house on Vanguard Street.
Haunted, continually tormented, Tobias lives in silence, for no words are fit to express his anguish and pain. The only reminder of the man he once was is the pastel portrait he keeps with him always. Sixty years ago, the year of the fire that destroyed half of Fountain, Tobias fell in love with a girl. Now, Tobias was never a believer in all things idealistic and paranormal, but something about the first time he laid his eyes upon Alice sparked an indescribable feeling that can only be called Love inside him. She was not especially beautiful, not by society’s degrading standards, but to him she was an angel God-sent to bequeath him immortal.
-------
(Begin with: “A funny thing happened on the way to…”)
A funny thing happened on the way to the coffee house the other day. You know – that one down the way, on Prince Street? I take walks sometimes, often with no aim, yet often to that same coffee shop. It’s a time to reflect, to delve into those questions we seldom ask and seldom ponder. Those morning walks before the sun’s ignited allow one to loose themselves in their emotions and live without judgment; to wander into the long forgotten recesses of the mind and memory. It was on one of these walks that I happened upon a small bird. A swallow, if I am not much mistaken. At first glance, it seemed just like any other swallow, and indeed it was. Why, then, did it seize my attentions and enrapture me so? I was befuddled at the magic this small bird seemed to carry – unique from every other, yet very much the same as the next. Nonplussed, I gazed upon the still and silent swallow, perched precariously – yet wholly stable – upon a street sign, for I know firsthand that I am not one to return from my submerged state easily.
-------
(Begin with: “Camping, you and your sibling come across a cave…”)
“Sarah, come on, what’s the worst that can happen?” Never would I forgive myself for uttering those seemingly harmless words.
The little girl shifted her weight from foot to foot uneasily. I could see her teeth worrying her bottom lip and her hazel eyes constantly darting to the mouth of the cave, only a few yards away from the small boulder I stood. After still more moments with my hand outstretched, I let out an aggravated sigh and turned away, ducking my head as I entered the dark opening. Sarah, battling her fear of the unknown with the fear of being alone, waited only a few still and silent seconds before climbing the moss-covered rock I had just stepped off of and followed me in.
I will always remember the lost look on my little sister’s face as I watched her follow me, her halo of glowing golden hair lit by the noonday sun snuffing out all too quickly as she advanced.
Smiling lightly at her childish antics (for she had run to cling to me as soon as she had discovered I had not left her), I turned and walked bent almost double deeper into the still unknown cave until I was sure the roof had risen above my height – Sarah still clutching tightly to my arm – and stoop up. I of course had not been able to see past my down-turned nose as we had walked further in, but when I looked up, I could not hold back the gasp of awe and surprise when I saw what lay before us.
--------
(Kristen and Russell meet before he’s supposed to inherit a large sum of inheritance. Before he does so, however, one of them is killed. This one was a little less open to interpretation, and as such, I felt I needed to tweak it lol.)
“Who could be calling at this time of night?”
Abandoning her book – an Austen novel she had surely read many times before – Kristen got up from her snug place on the sofa and went to the door. Peering through the peephole, she gasped and backed away from the door as if burned.
*
“Come on, Kris, open up…!” he muttered furtively under his breath. When he heard her steps cease, he held his breath, anxious to see her again, and to escape the demons ravaging his tortured mind. His hand twitched, eager to push open the still-locked door. He heard her retreat quickly and he let out an anguished yell, unconsciously voicing all of his suppressed emotions long since buried – hate, anger, anxiety, helplessness, fear – all released in a cry that lasted no more than half a second. He pressed himself against the door, unaware that his clothes were still slick and wet.
*
“Kris! Krissy, please! Please, open the door!” She heard his desperate pleas as if through a muted haze. Her face bore an expression of stricken incredulity.
--------
Notes: Let me know what you think about any of these and if anyone wants me to continue with one (or two or three or all lol), just leave a review! I don’t bite. :)
Sign up to rate and review this story