This started with a walk through a parking lot and a gimmick: take the first word that came to mind and start typing (with my thumbs… like most posts these days, all I had was my phone when I started). I typed this a couple weeks ago and obviously hadn’t posted it. I wasn’t going to. I didn’t / don’t particularly like it… repetitive, uninspired, short, obvious – or not as obvious as I think, and not obvious enough.
Going through my not posted collection, Cheryl thought this one should be. So if you don’t like it she should get at least half the blame.
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You remember the day the world cracked, don’t you? Before it started – before anyone really noticed, everyone told me it wasn’t the end of the world. Shows how much they knew.
Didn’t I try to tell them something was wrong? I had a funny feeling. It kept getting stronger, but no one would listen – not until it was too late anyway. Who was going to argue with furniture flying around the room? What did I get for trying – a few dismissive pats on the head? That sure didn’t help. The fit sure hit the shan when I lost control though. God help me, I knew it would happen. Did I deserve a dark underground cell for my honesty – and trust? I suppose I can’t blame them. I mean, I’d feel threatened when buildings started sliding off their foundations. But why did they think a cell would be enough?
The look on Doc’s face when the walls blew out and the mountain came down around us – you’ll think I’m terrible – priceless! I feel bad for the staff, but what can I do? If I can’t explain me and the Doc getting out, how can I begin to explain the rest of it? Hell, I don’t even know if I’m really doing it, or if I can just sense it coming – not that anyone cares to make a distinction.
Who am I kidding? It’s gotta be me. I know it and they know it, even if they were late to the game.
I felt the crack before everyone else. I felt it the way a mother senses trouble in a quiet house. Of course, I felt it later along with everyone else too. Land masses accustomed to moving inches over years put up a mighty struggle when pushed feet in minutes.
What?
You want to know how I got out here?
No, I don’t want to take any more pills.
I felt it the way a mother senses trouble in a quiet house.
Great sentence. That paragraph should have been the last. The rest is the over-tell you suspect you’re guilty of.
I liked the story.