By Jael Strong
“The Twenty Minute Creativity Project” is a weekly challenge designed to spur creative approaches to every day obstacles.
Week twelve Challenge: In twenty minutes, create a piece of short fiction based on a quote from a non-participant. Choose a specific time. Whoever speaks at that time, use their words as the basis for the composition.
Time Chosen: 8:40 PM
Quotation: “How do you do?”
Blaze was awakened from his deep sleep by the incessant ringing of the telephone, a shrill bell inextricably linked with plowing snow. But winter was gone now, and Blaze was free from callouts and blizzards. Still, that unwelcome ringing elicited a physical reaction that Blaze could not control, an aching in his muscles and a cold quiver that traveled throughout his limbs. Blaze turned away from the ringing and tossed a pillow over his head to block out the sound.
Blaze meditated on who it was that could be calling him at such an early hour. It was eight twenty-three in the morning, a bit too early for propriety. It could be is ex-wife calling for money. Perhaps his son, Elijah, needed guitar lessons or new shoes. Maybe there was a parent-teacher conference he couldn’t miss. Or maybe it was what’s-her-name from two nights ago, the blonde with the piercings and tattoos. His mother would call at this ungodly hour too. It seemed none of the women in is life had any respect for his mornings. They were always trying to disrupt his sleep with some sort of nonsense.
Blaze decided that if it was any of them, he would prefer what’s-her-name to the other alternatives. He had had a good time with what’s-her-name. She had wiggled around the dance floor at the club and hollered her name over the raucous, but he hadn’t been able to make it out. He had thought that it would be rude to ask again the next morning, so he had no choice but to wait for her to telephone. He hoped that was her calling. He tossed the pillow away from him and searched blindly for his glasses. He sat up in bed and waited for the phone to ring again.
At the same moment that Blaze turned over in bed, ignoring the ringing of the telephone, Rhonda was handed a note by the head nurse. They had tried for ten minutes to reach Blaze with news of the accident, but he wasn’t answering. The head nurse told Rhonda to go to Blaze’s house in person. Rhonda hesitated, regretting that she had told Mrs. Meyers that she new the boy’s father.
“Couldn’t the police do it?” She asked the head nurse.
“It will take too long for them. It’s best if we can handle it ourselves this time,” Mrs. Meyers had responded solemnly.
Begrudgingly Rhonda left the hospital and traveled to Blaze’s apartment. She knocked soundly on the door, three solid raps. This was not how she had imagined their reunion.
Blaze jumped from his bed when he heard the banging on his door. Quickly, he walked through the hallway, pulling on his white t-shirt as he went. He leaned forward, peeking through the keyhole to see who was intruding on his morning. Excitedly he unlocked the door as he recognized what’s-her-name standing there in the dingy hallway in front of his apartment.
With suave and finesse he cocked his head to the side and asked, “How do you do?”
My blurb: Have a suggestion for a creativity challenge? Please, feel free to forward it to me!
About the Author
Jael Strong is a writer for TheWriteBloggers, a company dedicated to creating professional blogging content for increased internet visibility.