It was shortly after this that a block formed and Phillip was again relegated to endlessly trolling the internet for points of inspiration which simply did not exist. He equated the phenomena to the numbness one eventually feels after extended drug addiction. There was a village in the back of his mind populated by his memories, however they seemed to be very hard to impossible to draw upon. He envisioned his first girlfriend living in a small cottage with his high school chemistry teacher; they had been married and three times a week she went to the outdoor produce market to buy fresh ingredients for Mr. Fisher’s dinner, dinners she should have, but never cooked for Phillip. She turns and looks at the tree that juts ominously from the hill above town and suddenly hears the warning bell. The crowd around her scatters as a large shadow emerges from a hole in the trunk and moves with terrible speed toward the town square. She bangs on the now barred doors of her neighbors, but none will offer assistance. She trips on a cobblestone and as she lies on the street in the village square she sees it; an owl the size of a pickup truck descending impossibly fast to her position. As her eyes close she hears Mr. Fisher cry out her name, but it’s too late. The last thing she feels in the coolness of the tree’s shadow as she is dropped into its trunk to be recycled into Sasha’s rival; Dominic’s dead fiancée’s sister, cue da-da-daaaa.
January 17, 2013
Excerpt from in-progress
Design, invent, write, parent, cook, create View all posts by christophermwilt
This entry was posted on Thursday, January 17th, 2013 at 7:58 pm and tagged with attack, fiction, in-progress, memory town, owl and posted in Fiction, horror, observation, Uncategorized, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.