For Christmas last year my wife gave me a complete set of Rory story cubes and I was inspired to get back into trying to write short stories. I’ve always been a long form writer, able to create novel length works much easier that I can create short stories. Every so often I come up with a good one, but in most cases my shorts need a lot of work.
A couple of years ago I started a weekly writing challenge on my blog. The intent was to create a story whose title started with a letter from the alphabet. The rules were simple. Every week I’d allow myself one hour to write the selected story with the goal of writing at least 250 words. Whatever I accomplished in that hour I would share on my blog that Wednesday. Raw, unedited, and would continue doing so until the story was done.
I managed to finish all the way up to E before real real life forced me to shelve my plans. This year on January 1st, I retired. I still work three days a week but I now have time to jump back into my weekly challenge. This time instead of limiting myself to the alphabet, I’m going to use the Rory story cubes to create each story.
Monday I rolled the dice and came up with the following.
Character roll: Planting. Burying. Running. Walking.
Opening: Carrying a box. Turn. Pushing a button, elevator possibly.
Middle: Two people agreeing, thumbs up, shaking hands. Something broken, something fragile. Throwing a ball, catching a ball, playing sports.
End: Jumping from one level to the next, jumping down. Headphones, listening to music, overhearing a conversation, eavesdropping. Knocking on a door, pounding on a wall, looking for something.
After some thought here are the first 380 words of the yet to be titled work.
Nick was asleep when the sound disturbed him, a crashing rumble that drove him awake and he sat up in bed looking around the cramped bedroom. Her perfume filled the room provoking the last image he had of her. She came in low across the bed, staring at him with a murderous gaze, the tip of the butcher knife in her hand drawing a line in the sheets. She was going to kill him, he was sure of it, and he rolled away, off the side of the bed. He yanked the drawer of the nightstand open. She lashed out with a furious cry, the tip of the blade passing over his shoulder, igniting a burning line of pain as his hand closed around the butt of his pistol. He bought it to protect them from intruders, unaware it’s eventual use would be to defend him from his wife. The same women he’d sworn to honor and protect, to give his life to, was trying to kill him.
The memory faded into the dark recesses of his mind as he reached out for the nightstand and turned on the light. A soft yellow glow filled the room, casting the small dresser into deep shadows. It was then he realized someone was in the room with him, watching him from the deeper night gathered at the far edge of that small pool of light.
He slid open the drawer of the nightstand and removed his revolver. The police had given it back to him after he was cleared of any wrongdoing in his wife’s death. In the shadows near the window, he saw what looked like a person standing with their arms crossed over their chest.
“Mona?” As soon as he said her name he knew it couldn’t be right. No way she could be there with him. She was dead and buried, her new residence at Parkview cemetery courtesy of the weapon he held in his hand.
The lid of the toilet slammed down, and he jumped back as the shadow at the window faded into the night. He rubbed his eyes and swung his legs out of bed, noting that it was now a little past three am and it was going to be another sleepless night.
So what do you think?
If you’d like to follow along and do the challenge yourself by all means you’re more than welcome, and I’d love to read what you’ve written. If you’d like to grab your own set of story cubes they’re available here.