Yay! More in unnamed ficlet
Feb. 2nd, 2008 11:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stinglikeabeeAnother Saturday spent sleeping. Now that I'm unemployed, I'm starting to really enjoying taking long naps. I did read Da Vinci took 15 minute naps instead of sleeping the 7 or 8 hours the rest of us do, but it sounded a bit nutty. If I tried it, I'd probably just sleep and never wake up.
But, I was able to write up an additional 454 in the ongoing unnamed ficlet. Oooh the tension!
But, I was able to write up an additional 454 in the ongoing unnamed ficlet. Oooh the tension!
The cursor blinked unforgivingly.
Simon shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe in deeply. He hadn't gotten past the first sentence and it was already 3 in the morning.
Clear your mind, he thought. Come up with something to say.
It seemed so easy for his classmates to come up with outlandish stories and impossible setups, sometimes even without much prompting. What was the key?
He opened his eyes. Perhaps he was thinking too much into it. His hands hovered over the computer keyboard as he mimed typing an imaginary manuscript. Feeling rather foolish, he stopped and stared at his fingers.
Think, damn you, think!
With a sigh he slumped in his seat, a hand rubbing the throbbing vein in his temple. For probably the millionth time that day, he wished he wasn't so pathetic.
A series of knocks jolted him from the fog of self pity. Simon's back stiffened and made every effort not to make a sound. Whoever it was at the door wasn't buying, and knocked again - more forceful this time. He wondered if the neighbours would complain.
The shadows on the wall flickered slightly. Simon waited. His bedroom was tucked away on the right hand side, away from the visible path of whoever was waiting for an answer. The computer desk was facing the half-opened bedroom door, allowing Simon a glimpse out into the dark hallway.
Suddenly he heard a slight scraping noise against metal. It didn't sound like it could be something used to prise open the door, but he reached underneath the desk anyway. His fingers curled around the handle of a baseball bat and he calmly eyed the darkness.
The noise stopped. Simon waited a full five minutes before slowly pushing back his seat to investigate. Thirty steps to the door, he counted silently. The carpeting barely crunched beneath his bare feet. As a precaution he glanced through the peephole. He wasn't disappointed to find anyone outside. Then as quietly as he could manage Simon undid the three locks holding fort.
Nothing.
He continued to pull the door back, inch by inch, until he could fully make out the faint light of the hallway. Careful not to stick his head out too far and still holding onto the bat, Simon glanced around. Nothing again. He examined the outside door knob; it was not scratched or harmed visibly. But just as he was about to shut the door he found something. A business card lay at his feet. He picked it up gingerly.
Heavy paper, sharp corners. A strange symbol: a circle with an x through it, the number 18 inside the upper quadrant. Simon turned it over. Blank on the other side.
Simon shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe in deeply. He hadn't gotten past the first sentence and it was already 3 in the morning.
Clear your mind, he thought. Come up with something to say.
It seemed so easy for his classmates to come up with outlandish stories and impossible setups, sometimes even without much prompting. What was the key?
He opened his eyes. Perhaps he was thinking too much into it. His hands hovered over the computer keyboard as he mimed typing an imaginary manuscript. Feeling rather foolish, he stopped and stared at his fingers.
Think, damn you, think!
With a sigh he slumped in his seat, a hand rubbing the throbbing vein in his temple. For probably the millionth time that day, he wished he wasn't so pathetic.
A series of knocks jolted him from the fog of self pity. Simon's back stiffened and made every effort not to make a sound. Whoever it was at the door wasn't buying, and knocked again - more forceful this time. He wondered if the neighbours would complain.
The shadows on the wall flickered slightly. Simon waited. His bedroom was tucked away on the right hand side, away from the visible path of whoever was waiting for an answer. The computer desk was facing the half-opened bedroom door, allowing Simon a glimpse out into the dark hallway.
Suddenly he heard a slight scraping noise against metal. It didn't sound like it could be something used to prise open the door, but he reached underneath the desk anyway. His fingers curled around the handle of a baseball bat and he calmly eyed the darkness.
The noise stopped. Simon waited a full five minutes before slowly pushing back his seat to investigate. Thirty steps to the door, he counted silently. The carpeting barely crunched beneath his bare feet. As a precaution he glanced through the peephole. He wasn't disappointed to find anyone outside. Then as quietly as he could manage Simon undid the three locks holding fort.
Nothing.
He continued to pull the door back, inch by inch, until he could fully make out the faint light of the hallway. Careful not to stick his head out too far and still holding onto the bat, Simon glanced around. Nothing again. He examined the outside door knob; it was not scratched or harmed visibly. But just as he was about to shut the door he found something. A business card lay at his feet. He picked it up gingerly.
Heavy paper, sharp corners. A strange symbol: a circle with an x through it, the number 18 inside the upper quadrant. Simon turned it over. Blank on the other side.
