Story Prompt: Fill in the _____.
Where do ideas come from? This letter came cartwheeling down the sidewalk, with a few obvious stories already leaking off the page.
He wasn't sorry. He'd known that he was going to hurt his friend's feelings. Known it, and meant to do it again, and what's more, he was going to continue to shave the edge from his apologies by spelling it "sarey" as if he didn't know any better until well into his 20's. What he didn't know was just who was going to see through the ruse and plan a bitter revenge.
He still wore his Columbia U sweatshirt, still pushed his tortoise-shell glasses up his narrow nose when he concentrated. He continued to pile The New Yorker and The Economist and Smithsonian magazines on the mudroom table. He kept the boxwood hedge sharp-edged and neat, and left bags of leaves waited at the curb after a weekend of lawn-work. But the ruined Lexus was never replaced, and the big dining room never again filled with dinner-guests. He didn't read the magazines, and the home-health aid only ever used the microwave in that big airy kitchen, heating up his nightly meal from the stack in the freezer.
12/2/2014 05:50:06 am
#1: You will have to develop some details on his alternate personality that requires him to write backwards giving clues as to what is coming next. These clues are the backwards writing personalities only method of communicating with the world, otherwise trapped inside a dark and lonely place.
12/2/2014 01:55:01 pm
Hmmm. Intriguing twist.
12/2/2014 12:26:10 pm
Welcome to the Bates Motel
12/2/2014 01:55:34 pm
12/9/2014 05:03:47 am
I love the author/artist's attempts to distract the hurt party with sunbeams and organic matter, yet his cloud - tearful as it is - can't hide the remorse that has built up inside. What is most telling is that the object of this letter apparently rejected it; tossing it aside like so much trash...
12/11/2014 11:17:13 pm
12/20/2014 09:47:02 am
12/20/2014 10:21:03 am
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