(no subject)
So...what's new. I still enjoy the office, the people are great, but the work itself gets really old. I get done with my stuff way faster than anyone else and I'm never given enough to last me through the day. I can't really mess around online too much because everyone that walks by my cubicle can see my screen. So I've taken up writing some short stories in between projects to kinda stretch my work out a bit. I get emails from a writing prompt site and they are awesome. I always suck at coming up with ideas of things to write about so this works out great for me. They do these sentence starter things where they give you the first sentence and you write a short story using it. I did this one today:
Harry was puzzled when the door wouldn't open. Cautiously he looked up and down the hall, then tried the knob again. The room was locked up tight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. He studied the scribbled directions in the dim, flickering torchlight on the wall. He knew he had followed them precisely, and there was no indication that the room would be locked. And then the moment of realization started setting in - he was in the depths of a dungeon. If he didn't get out soon, he would probably end up being there the rest of his life. But if he left without obtaining what he came for, his death was certain.
The giant oak door taunted him as he tried to catch up to his racing mind. There had to be a way to get the door open, but the fortification was daunting. The massive door seemed to be at least a foot thick, with a duo of sturdy metal planks across for extra but probably unneeded support. There was no access to the hinges, as the door swung inward. The only opening in the door was the tiny keyhole, through which nothing but empty blackness could be seen.
His eyes scrambled around the decrepit corridor, desperately searching for something that could be of use. He shook his head in disgust when he thought about the deal he had made. This was ridiculous, and now look at the bind he had gotten himself into. But he had to do, it was his only option. And this wasn't the time to be fretting over the past, he had to get into that room, he didn't have a choice now. He grabbed the torch out of its wall mount and scanned the hallway. Maybe the key was around here somewh...and then he caught a glimmer of light refracting off something on the ledge above the door. Standing on his tiptoes, he reached up and fished through the layers of dust and grime until his hand finally landed on the object. His heart was racing as he traced his fingers around it and scooted it to the edge until it dropped.
The high pitched ringing echoed through the hallway. He stomped his feet and tried to stop the small piece of metal from bouncing off the ground. As he reached down, the could see the outline of a key. The key that would surely be the death of him now. The piercing sound resonated in his head even after the key had stopped moving. Urgency had now set in, he had to get in and out of that room before the guards came to investigate. He knew that an unusual, out of place sound was not something that would go unnoticed.
As he slid the key into the jagged keyhole, the thought crossed his mind that this may not even open the door. It seemed too orchestrated for the key to simply be right where he needed it. But he had no time to worry about that now. He turned the key, the door clicked, and the darkness consumed him.
His eyes strained as he focused them on the table in the center of the room. Upon it, a small wooden crate. There was no time to waste scurried over and threw the lid open. He peered inside and couldn't believe what he was seeing. More darkness, emptiness, blackness. The Jarl's Scepter was not in the box. And in the same instant, the door shut briskly behind him. He was forced to his knees by the realization he had been swindled into thinking he could find an easy way out of his past crimes against the monarchy. He had been duped into imprisoning himself.
I really need to write more, I love doing it and it really is a big stress reliever for me.
Harry was puzzled when the door wouldn't open. Cautiously he looked up and down the hall, then tried the knob again. The room was locked up tight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. He studied the scribbled directions in the dim, flickering torchlight on the wall. He knew he had followed them precisely, and there was no indication that the room would be locked. And then the moment of realization started setting in - he was in the depths of a dungeon. If he didn't get out soon, he would probably end up being there the rest of his life. But if he left without obtaining what he came for, his death was certain.
The giant oak door taunted him as he tried to catch up to his racing mind. There had to be a way to get the door open, but the fortification was daunting. The massive door seemed to be at least a foot thick, with a duo of sturdy metal planks across for extra but probably unneeded support. There was no access to the hinges, as the door swung inward. The only opening in the door was the tiny keyhole, through which nothing but empty blackness could be seen.
His eyes scrambled around the decrepit corridor, desperately searching for something that could be of use. He shook his head in disgust when he thought about the deal he had made. This was ridiculous, and now look at the bind he had gotten himself into. But he had to do, it was his only option. And this wasn't the time to be fretting over the past, he had to get into that room, he didn't have a choice now. He grabbed the torch out of its wall mount and scanned the hallway. Maybe the key was around here somewh...and then he caught a glimmer of light refracting off something on the ledge above the door. Standing on his tiptoes, he reached up and fished through the layers of dust and grime until his hand finally landed on the object. His heart was racing as he traced his fingers around it and scooted it to the edge until it dropped.
The high pitched ringing echoed through the hallway. He stomped his feet and tried to stop the small piece of metal from bouncing off the ground. As he reached down, the could see the outline of a key. The key that would surely be the death of him now. The piercing sound resonated in his head even after the key had stopped moving. Urgency had now set in, he had to get in and out of that room before the guards came to investigate. He knew that an unusual, out of place sound was not something that would go unnoticed.
As he slid the key into the jagged keyhole, the thought crossed his mind that this may not even open the door. It seemed too orchestrated for the key to simply be right where he needed it. But he had no time to worry about that now. He turned the key, the door clicked, and the darkness consumed him.
His eyes strained as he focused them on the table in the center of the room. Upon it, a small wooden crate. There was no time to waste scurried over and threw the lid open. He peered inside and couldn't believe what he was seeing. More darkness, emptiness, blackness. The Jarl's Scepter was not in the box. And in the same instant, the door shut briskly behind him. He was forced to his knees by the realization he had been swindled into thinking he could find an easy way out of his past crimes against the monarchy. He had been duped into imprisoning himself.
I really need to write more, I love doing it and it really is a big stress reliever for me.