Where Bobby Was

This prompt (in brackets) is taken from Complete the Story by Piccadilly Inc., which I got from the Scribbler box.

[Perhaps it was a dream, she thought. Perhaps if she pinched herself, she would wake up. But she didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to stay in this dream world where] Bobby was. Most nights she found him, wandering through a dream city or lounging in a dream house, or walking along terrifyingly tall dream cliffs or through an expanse of dream fields. When they saw each other, he always smiled broadly, beautifully. When he held her, she felt safe, at home.

She had asked Bobby where he was from, where he lived and slept, because she knew he dreamed her as much as she dreamed him. She knew they met every night in their shared dreams, or why else would she dream him so often? But whenever she asked him, his expression changed from bliss to fear, his eyes took on a glassy unfocusing, and he changed the subject, or kissed her deeply and unrelenting.

Continue reading

The Black

This prompt (in brackets) is taken from Complete the Story by Piccadilly Inc., which I got from the Scribbler box. I highly recommend it, as I’ve been having fun with it and will be posting my results.

[At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we’d struck it rich and that we’d be able to retire and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we’d spend the money. Our first choice was] an expensive meal made by the finest chefs at the finest restaurant. Something French, something that included steak and lobster. When I woke the next morning I thought I was still dreaming, because I could smell it, sweet and savory in the air. But when I went to the dining room, all the food was there. An enormous spread of meats and vegetables and gravies and desserts. Continue reading

Record, a Story in Drabbles – part XV

Will backed away, eyes no longer on the dark hair in the bed but on the camera. A sound drifted to him, and it wasn’t

drip drip

but the creak of a floorboard. He had no time to turn. Something hard cracked across the back of his head, and pain exploded in his skull. He fell to the floor. And pictures came to his mind.

Pictures of red lights. In the entranceway, in the living room under construction, in the kitchen, in the upstairs hallway.

And he saw now the black hair on the pillow slither, and the lump rise.

THE END

Record, a Story in Drabbles – part XIV

He had to do something. He had to walk to her. He had to see if he could rouse her.

He had to move.

He stepped forward, heart pounding over the

drip drip

from the bathroom. He took another step, eyes on the limp black hair lying over the pillow. In the corner of his eye he saw an unnatural red light, so like the red light in the hall. So like something he had seen in another corner of the house.

He glanced up. A camera sat on a tripod by the windows, little red light signaling a recording.

Record, a Story in Drabbles – part XIII

Will rounded the corner of the doorway. He could barely see in the fading sunlight that crept through the windows. But he saw a shape in the bed, a mound beneath the blankets. He stepped closer, until he could see dark hair on the pillow. Eva’s hair.

She wasn’t moving.

He couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.

He should have said her name, but the word stuck in his throat, and he didn’t want to call out to her. He had called earlier and she hadn’t answered. She only laid there, a lump like a tumor on the mattress.

Record, a Story in Drabbles – part XII

Rustle rustle

came a sound from behind him. He spun around, nearly tripping over his feet. But nothing was there. He listened closely and heard again

Rustle

from the bedroom. He left behind the still-dark

drip drip

bathroom and stepped further into the hallway. An unnatural light in the corner of his eye sought his attention – a small red light near the ceiling at the end of the hall – but he was focused on the doorway to the bedroom. He strained to hear any further sound, but he could only hear the

drip drip

fading away behind him.

Record, a Story in Drabbles – part XI

Will turned at the smeared painting, and looked down the hallway. Save for a dim light that spilled from the bedroom, the space was black as pitch.

He would just check the rooms, quickly and quietly, and leave. The bathroom on the left, bedroom on the right, closet straight ahead. Then out the door.

He stepped forward, and noticed

drip drip

A dripping from the bathroom. As he drew closer he heard

drip drip

it louder and clearer. But when Will got to the doorway the bathroom was in shadows. He reached in, hand shaking, to feel for the lightswitch.

Record, a Story in Drabbles – part X

Will climbed the steps slowly, deliberately, waiting for any one of them to creak – a signal to run from the house. But they made no noise.

As he reached the landing a face came into view, one he expected. The portrait, crudely painted in acrylics, hung at the head of the stairs. It was of Eva, but Will only knew that because he had seen Eva pose for it and seen Dan make the childish brushstrokes.

But there was a stroke on it that Dan hadn’t painted.

A hand print, and a thick red streak, smeared across the figure.

Record, a Story in Drabbles – part IX

Will left the kitchen behind, fumbling down the hallway, back to the front door. He peered up the stairs, into the muddled darkness that was forming as the sun continued past the horizon.

If another creak had sounded, if a footstep had fallen, he would have slipped back out the door. He would have left further investigation into Dan and Eva’s disappearance to the police. But in that moment, there was only the faint drone of crickets outside and the pounding of Will’s own heart. There was only twilight forming the still shadows.

Will stepped forward, and climbed the stairs.