Back Again: Uncertainties and Surprise Drafts

Can't believe it's been almost a decade since I last posted here.

I was going to just type up a short little paragraph to, I don't know, close out this page. Obviously, life has changed since the last time I've written anything to post on here. I no longer have time to attempt to write short stories, must move on to new pursuits, blah, blah blah, blah blah.

When I opened up my account though, I saw something in my drafts that got me curious. I apparently, I'd begun writing something around the end of October 2012 that I never completed, and thus never posted.

I don't even know if I can complete it. I don't even remember typing the words, much less if I had any plans for the plot moving forward.

But I'm intrigued enough to want to try. 

So yeah, just below the jump break, I'm posting the bit of the story as I found it written up in my drafts. It doesn't have a title at this time, that's something I'll have to come up with, too, as I try and move this forward. I'm not even sure if I should try and continue this story here, or just create another blog somewhere else, to try and keep my posts somewhat cohesive.

But, hey, read on, and maybe you can turn this to a complete story.

Flea Market Find

The mirror was broken, and she was happy.

She'd been walking home when she found her path--usually just a concrete side street set in between a vacant lot and a rundown house for sale--had been transformed into a flea market. Makeshift tents were set up in the grassy lot, and a slight crowd had gathered around some of them, their constant chatter creating what sounded from a distance like a long, low buzz.

The Perfect Day

She wondered at his apathy. There he was, shrugging his shoulders, a corner of his mouth upturned, his hands in his pockets.

Would you say something? She wanted to scream at him. How can he be so calm, so sure, so unaffected? Was she the only one worried about what the news implied about the future?

Hyperbole

She looked out the window at what she had done and wished for death.

Cold sweat poured from her forehead. Her breath came in short puffs as she struggled not to make a sound, as she crouched beneath the kitchen window. She was trapped, tired and terrified, unable to think of a plan of action.

Her knees shook as the car headlights shone bigger on the opposite wall.She prayed that he wouldn't notice what she had done. The car door opened and slammed shut a moment later. She closed her eyes. Oh please, oh please, oh please don't let him notice.