The Librarian's Revenge ©

The Librarian's Revenge ©

An Odyssey Into The Wonderful World Of Words

This community is dedicated to C.W. Hewett's epic masterpiece

Living Nightmare

EXERCISESPosted by Kirsty Hoath 15 May, 2009 05:28PM

Task:

· Choose an opening sentence from a book (unknown when choosing).

· Choose an ending sentence from a book (unknown when choosing).

· Write a short story in thirty minutes using these two sentences as the beginning and ending

(opening) - Call me Ishmael

(ending) - Sorry I forgot the mayonaise

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Call me Ishmael. All of my friends do. It’s been a long time since I was called anything else. Ishmael is actually my middle name. A few years ago, an old family friend, a trusted and loved family friend, dropped by for tea, so she said, but she had one thing on her mind: Murder.

Her small, yet expensive handbag contained a regular, if not blood-stained, kitchen knife.

Needless to say, our newly decorated living room, was yet again, newly decorated. Only this time, with an interestingly unique pattern of blood splatter. On the walls, on the ceiling, on the floor.

There was no where that you could look where that ghastly red was not within your vision.

I fear that woman still. And even to this day, I will not speak her name, which is why I loathe people using my first name, mine and hers, they are the same.

I hoped, I prayed, I wished that I would never see her again. But as usual, my prayers were not answered.

I was a normal day at school, it was a normal beginning of the day, a normal middle, but it was not to be a normal end.

That thing that haunted my nightmares was to come into my reality once again.

*

I was quietly chatting and giggling to my friends when I heard the door open. I ignored it. Just another late student. The newcomer was quietly speaking to my teacher.

"Suzanne Wright?" Even the teachers don’t, well didn’t, know my true first name.

My face visibly paled as my name was called out. I glanced up and caught sight of that peroxide blonde hair. It was her, that woman, that recurring nightmare. I wanted to throw up. She even had that same handbag. She noticed me and walked over.

"Hello Suzanne," she put so much emphasise on that name. "Oh wait, I understand that it’s Ishmael now." She smirked, I only just managed to stop myself passing out with fear.

I stood, shaking, willing to try and face her.

I heard one sentence of the comment made from a madwoman before taking my last breathe as the same knife that killed my parents slashed across my own throat.

"Sorry that I forgot the mayonnaise."