Writing Prompt: Day 96

96.jpgDay 96 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about time running out.

Shannon: I walked into my office to find Marvin sitting in one of the chairs across from my desk. I peaked my head back through the doorway and inspected each direction, making sure no one was nearby. Once I was satisfied I closed the door.

“Do you know why I’m here?” His voice was cold, and since he didn’t look at me, I could only see from the side he still had the same intimidating appearance that was engraved into my memory the first time we met.

I gave a slight nod before sitting down to make it seem like I had everything under control, while trying to make myself believe it too.

“You’re running out of time James. I warned you when you agreed to this deal that time cannot be added or replaced. I suggest you get to work, because as we agreed…” he passed a note with what I assumed was my final time reminder across the table, “failure is not an option.” He placed his hat on his head with a swift motion, picked up his briefcase, and as quickly as he arrived he disappeared.

My hands were shaking as I opened the note: One week. My heart burned. It couldn’t be so soon. How had time passed so fast? I didn’t stand a chance. I dug my fingers into my hair and buried my head into the desk. Maybe I could run.

“What’s wrong,” Stan snuck inside. He must have seen Marvin. He knew about the deal. I passed him the note without saying anything. It spoke for itself, or so I thought. “Easy,” he stated with confidence.

“Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head. “The way I see it, even if it’s impossible, you have two options. You go down swinging, or you take yourself out before they can get you. Come on,“ he put out his hand. “You’re going to swing.”

I breathed out a growl. “Fine,” I took his hand. I didn’t feel better, but I did feel braver.

Erin: “I don’t have much time left,” a very drunk Brian complained.

“What the heck are you talking about. You have no time left,” I corrected.

“She’s married,” he mumbled distressed.

“No, but she’s going to. You’re too late,” I had to be blunt and I had to determine if I should even bring him to the reception.

“But I love her,” I barely made out his slurred words.

“But she loves her to be husband. You decided too late. She’s someone else’s, you’ll never have her,” I insisted.

“You’re mean,” he shouted.

“I’m honest, because I love you. You weren’t honest, because you don’t love Sarah. So she’s never going to be in love with you, she’s no longer looking,” I pointed out.

Quickly, write your story!

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One thought on “Writing Prompt: Day 96

  1. She stood shivering in the damp breeze, forlornly gazing out at the frigid ocean waves crashing on the delicate sandy beach far below. Before her was the wide open world; dangerously freeing and furiously unreliable. Hanging from a tarnished chain around her neck that she hadn’t taken off once in the past eighteen years, an antique timepiece ticked away the minutes. Its hands were carved with diamond-studded constellations that circled a number of intricate gears, all turning almost immeasurably as the clock counted down the seconds.
    Sucking in the last few briny breaths of free air, she laughed out loud at the tale of destiny that had been passed down through the generations, and proven true by countless content couples; that this silly watch knew when a woman would meet her soulmate, and would stop at exactly the same time she met him. In the past, this heirloom could have been sold for a small, or large, fortune but its current owner never wanted it, but couldn’t bear to be parted. In truth, though even she would never admit to it, she’d become terribly attached to the old pendant over the years. But she didn’t truly believe in its magical properties.
    Still, here she was, as far away from any possible human beings, mere minutes before the clock would strike zero. Behind her, the blinding headlights of her car plastered her silhouette on the impending storm clouds that were rolling in like an oppressive fog. As she lifted the watch to her eyes, observing as the tiny second hand hit the nine, and sighed into the roiling air. Quickly she closed her eyes and squeezed the delicate symphony of metal in her pale fingers.
    As the clock wound down, the second hand stopping at twelve and falling deathly silent, a warm hand landed on her shoulder. Whispering, “Hey, I’ve been searching all night for you,” he turned her around and she braced to meet her destiny. When she opened her eyes, though, she was greeted with a pair of glowing golden irises and a melancholy grin that had seen empires rise and civilizations fall.

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