She was going to be a professional writer, just as she’d always wanted. Everything was set up, but her life now was too easy. She wanted to write about murder and mayhem but the sun was shining, the birds were singing and she couldn’t, just couldn’t, think murder and mayhem on such a day. On holidays, you know, down in the village.” She nodded. His car had broken down a kilometre away and hers was the first house he’d come across. “Oh, okay,” he answered, his mouth full of homemade choc chip cookie. At least an hour.” He looked around the room again. I won’t get in your way.” She frowned, not knowing what to say. As the young man’s hands went around her neck and squeezed the life from her it started raining outside and everything became black; there was thunder too, or was it just in her head? Her last thought before she lost consciousness was ‘It was a dark and stormy night’.
Not even when she felt his breath on her neck did she turn around.
But, ever after that day, I make sure I always have plenty of candles in every room in the house. I've lived in various places in the USA and now in Canada.
I've always enjoyed watching life and people and have developed an appreciation for it all.
It was great fun to see what different stories everyone came up with, starting with that same line.
Trying to think of a line myself, that old favourite from the 19th century, ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ kept popping into my head, so I thought okay, why not? It was late morning and the sun was shining brilliantly. Her novel was meant to be full of horror, with evil and a good deal of gore thrown in for good measure.