This is a fun creative writing project written by fellow bloggers in 5 minutes or less. Feel free to continue the story, add some dialogue or whatever else inspires you. Silence that inner critic, better yet send him/her for a walk, this is not about writing well, but having fun at creating something. Some courageous fellowers have already contributed. There are no rules, add more than once if you like, just one request, please keep it "clean", I prefer to avoid search terms that will gravely disappoint some poor soul out there. I will post it in the sidebar under Categories so that you can continue to read and add to it. The mystery so far...
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1. He had no recollection of how he had ended up here, wherever here actually was. Disoriented, he looked around but could not discern much detail. A strangely familiar scent lingered in the air. He thought he heard footsteps. "Hello?" he called, when...
2. ..
suddenly there was the sound of metal scraping on reluctant ancient hinges and a door ponderously opened before him. A brilliant white light streamed in from the opening, blinding his eyes and he held a shaking hand to them while they adjusted to the glare. When he lowered his hand, there, before him, a dark figure outlined in the doorway was...
3. ...
beckoning silently. "Wh..Who are you?" he wanted to ask, but the words wouldn't come. He felt drawn, pulled even, he moved slowly toward the figure. As he got closer the familiar scent grew stronger and his eyes adjusted further. Stood before him was a woman dressed from head to toe in white robes. A hood covered her head and part of her face, but he could still tell she was extremely beautiful yet unfamiliar. She continued to beckon and he wasn't afraid. She moved aside as he reached and passed through the doorway into the light. Once through he turned briefly away from her to see...
4. . . . a giant plumb bob, swinging from West to East like the slowing pendulum of an old, old clock. Cumulus clouds gathered on the horizon, growing in volume as he watched - and increasing in dimension and momentum. He ducked as a flare of white lightning sparked across his path, glancing back to where she stood, silent and inscrutable, her ice-blue eyes taking everything in but giving nothing away. . .
5. except for a darting glance toward his clenched left hand, a look so quick he thought he imagined it. As he stood, just for a moment, to plan his next steps, he opened his hand and discovered a map had been drawn on his palm. There were few landmarks, nothing as helpful as a giant "X" and "You Are Here." But the lines were clear and unsmudged and indicated, he hoped, a path toward open country where, if luck was with him, he might find...
6. ...some clue, as to the identity of the woman in white robes, who shimmered in front of him as if she were a ghost. His name was Simon. How could he forget? But hers? What was her name?
The woman did not speak, not at first, but she held out her hand as if to welcome him forward into her ...
7. ... Once again, that mysterious power she had drew him in. Only for a second, he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the door he had come through. It was gone. He knew he should be worried, but he wasn't. "Shouldn't I try to find an exit? Some way back?" Simon asked himself, No. Those feelings were strangely subdued. All he could think about was this strange place, that strange, beautiful woman with those piercing blue eyes. He turned to where she stood. She was...
8. ...still silently watching him, as if to see what he would do next. Simon was torn. He wanted to stay with her, but he desperately wanted to leave. He looked out over the land again, surveying this strange place, trying to find something familiar. Something to bring him a small amount of comfort. Something to strike out for. But the ever changing landscape and the ferocity of the darkening sky held him back. It was then that Simon realised what he was meant to do. He....
9. stepped towards her, only to discover that she had disappeared. Confused, he looked around. Had he imagined her? Gingerly, he ran his fingers through his hair feeling for bumps or cuts, but found none.
His surroundings were briefly illuminated by another lightning bolt, which revealed a path before him. He began walking towards it and flinched when he felt a burning sensation in the palm of his left hand...
10. and the faint sound of a distant engine, not too well tuned, rumbling in his head. Shaking his head did nothing to dislodge it, but instead increased the volume. What an odd time to think of how sharply he'd spoken to his dog, Renfrew, who had wanted to follow when he set out, saying...
