Okay, we did this before with The Basement Game, so let's do it again with a different premise. We won't make this into a contest though: it's just for fun. 
Same as before: Build the story by adding to this paragraph. Keep yours to less than 150+/- words. Continuity is the key here. Write like you mean it, pace in tension, make us draw a sharp breath.
Only one rule: after you post your paragraph, you have to wait until three other peeps continue the story: then you can jump back in.
If you want to save a spot, do so; then come back and fill it in when you're ready.
Same as before: Build the story by adding to this paragraph. Keep yours to less than 150+/- words. Continuity is the key here. Write like you mean it, pace in tension, make us draw a sharp breath.
Only one rule: after you post your paragraph, you have to wait until three other peeps continue the story: then you can jump back in.
If you want to save a spot, do so; then come back and fill it in when you're ready.
***
I knew I shouldn't have traded shifts that night, but it was too late to change my mind. My sixth sense told me to go home but, silly me, I ignored it.
Something about this victim bothered me. He wasn't dead when we got to the accident site; it was your typical crash scene where someone wasn't paying attention to the signal light.
"You look kinda pale, Shelly," Steve said, as we walked towards the mangled cars. "Don't tell me this is making you sick?"
I surveyed the scene. There was a dead body hanging through the windshield of the white Dodge Colt. "Those things are death traps," I replied, trying not to give Steve any hint about what was going through my mind. "Something is just...off with me tonight. It'll pass."
I couldn't tell Steve there was something...unnatural here. He would have laughed at me. Or worse, would've sent me for a psych evaluation.
Something about this victim bothered me. He wasn't dead when we got to the accident site; it was your typical crash scene where someone wasn't paying attention to the signal light.
"You look kinda pale, Shelly," Steve said, as we walked towards the mangled cars. "Don't tell me this is making you sick?"
I surveyed the scene. There was a dead body hanging through the windshield of the white Dodge Colt. "Those things are death traps," I replied, trying not to give Steve any hint about what was going through my mind. "Something is just...off with me tonight. It'll pass."
I couldn't tell Steve there was something...unnatural here. He would have laughed at me. Or worse, would've sent me for a psych evaluation.
***
Okay, who's next? Have fun!
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