#startwiththis

I’ve started listening to ‘Start With This’ a podcast put out by Jeffrey Cranor and Joseph Fink (Welcome to Night Vale) and they give you assignments.

The first episode is ‘Idea to Execution’ and the first assignment was to pick an idea you’ve had, spend an hour working on it. That’s your first draft at that idea. And then you put it out into the world.

So one hour first draft of a story I’ve mainly just mulling around on.

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As the approached the gates her grandfather stopped the car, "We'll walk from here."

Beyond the ornate gates of black metal all Emily could see was a narrow dirt path.

The driver slowed to a stop and as he stared agape at the path, her grandfather opened his own door and got out. "Wait in the village. I'll send for you when Emily is settled in."

Emily dragged her suitcases from the backseat to the gate. Had she known they would be walking all that way she would have packed less.

"Are you sure?" The driver paled at the idea of letting an elderly man and young girl struggle to carry her bags alone for such a distance. "I can--"

Her grandfather held up a hand and the driver fell silent, "It will be okay. It's not nearly as far as it looks."

They awaited until the car curved around the bend in the woods before her grandfather gave Emily a wide smile and wink, "Now then. Give the gate your acceptance letter or it will be a long look."

"My letter?"

Emily thought perhaps it was one of her grandfather's little pranks. Like finding a toy frog in her teapot or when he pulls a something out silly from behind her ear. He had the same sort of twinkle in his eyes but she couldn't be sure.

She opened her messenger bag and pulled out the letter. The parchment had been sealed with wax and addressed to her special. The looping letters spelling out her name and grandparent's address.

Running her fingers over the words she sighed. If there was a prank there was nothing to do but wait to see what happened.

Leaving the suitcases she held out her acceptance letter.

Chimes drifted across the estate and the gates opened before them.

Emily stepped back, not believing what she was seeing. Instead of the empty manicured lawn and dirt path, the school loomed over them.

Ivy covered the red brick walls and in the windows she could just make out people.

"Set your bags down just inside the gate here, dear." Her grandfather tapped the cobblestone passed the boarder with his cane.

"Yes, grandfather!" She squeaked. Emily had forgotten all about her stuff, too distracted by a building appearing out of thin air.

She dragged each case one by one while wishing she'd brought fewer of her favourite things, to just beyond the boarder wall. Placing the last one down she sighed with relief and leaned on the pile.

"Pardon me, young miss. We'll get that for you."

Emily jumped back as the bags began to float up. Her hair and skirt swirled as her bags zipped away on the wind.

As she stared after her luggage her grandfather laughed. "I should have warned you, but I doubt you would have believed me. Most people don't believe in wind spirits these days. Don't worry, they'll take your things to your dorm."

She was a firm believer in science not fairy tales but it was hard to discount what she'd just seen. Or didn't just see, Emily considered to herself. After all she hadn't seen anything.

"What kind of place is this, Grandfather?"

The fog hangs heavy and ominous above the rooftops, the streetlights dimly casting their yellow glow. The only other source of light is the match I strike, followed by the burning end of a freshly rolled cigarette pinched just so between my unshaven lips -and a big bright, almost-full-moon playfully peeking over the dense, black clouds like a mischievous celestial deity just waiting to see the next mortal mishap down below. Apart from the sound of my footfalls, the stone street is so quiet it makes my stomach turn and my mind wander. But just before I start to dissociate, I'm suddenly shocked back to reality by an absurdly putrid stench, like death, rot and bile, all at once; I must be very close to finding what I came here for. The road abruptly becomes a dead end, seemingly out of nowhere, and the facade of a grand mausoleum looms over me, the odor growing stronger and stronger.

I shuffle languidly across the threshold, then stop to greet a lone, entirely black kitten, whom conversely passes me by entirely. Without a sound, the cat slinks past me, showing it's prideful tail as if out of spite, and disappears into the pitch black corridor. I stay planted where I am for a moment, steeling myself for whatever cesspool of inhumanity I'm about to enter. 

"Saints above and sinners below, protect me and guide me, through the ethereal glow."

I recite the secret, sacred prayer passed down among those few lone practitioners of one of the most ancient human creeds, known only to a handful of living beings as, "The Shadow of Light".

1 hour writing sketch, posted unedited after 1 hour is complete.

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"Look at you, sitting here drinking coffee like a psychopath." A body slid into the seat across from here, and Alice looked up into a familiar smiling face. Was it cliche to say she did a double take? It felt like she did a double take, and a small smile slid into place to match the warm feeling rising through her.

"It's hot chocolate, actually."

"Oh, hot chocolate! I take it back! Perfectly normal to be doing nothing but drinking hot chocolate in a coffee shop. You're not even wearing headphones, you crazy."

Was this flirting? Alice has been replaying the minute long interaction in the post office for the past week, trying to determine if it had been flirting back then. Now Post Office Girl was sitting in front of her, and she was beginning to think it was. She...she could flirt. Right? Alice was perfectly capable of flirting. It was normal and she could do the normal thing.

"I've found that cute girls from the post office don't normally stop and chat with people wearing headphones." See? Perfectly good flirting.

"Do you try to pick up girls from the post office often?" There was a laugh in P.O.G.'s words, and Alice ducked her head looking at the disintegrating whipped cream on her hot chocolate. At the chapstick marks on the lip of the mug.

"No," Alive said, speaking as if not to frighten the drink in her hand. "I don't. I don't normally do...things."

"Like drinking hot chocolate alone in a coffee shop?" If Alice had gotten shy in that moment, P.O.G. took it in stride, for which Alice was grateful. No, sitting alone in coffee shops was something she did frequently, though normally she had a book in front of her. Today her book sat closed at her side. Would it be weird if this girl knew Alice had been thinking about their interaction a week earlier? About a smile and the way that smile formed around the word "lovely?" Had anyone ever called her lovely before? Not...not like that. Not while in yoga pants and a hoodie, running errands. Had P.O.G been teasing? It didn't sound like teasing. It hadn't….felt like tessing.

God, how starved for attention was she that one stupid word, one short interaction could dominate her thoughts for days? And here she was now. Was she sure P.O.G. was real? Maybe she should pinch herself.

"I'm Evelyn, by the way," said Post Office Girl, as if breaking silences was the most natural thing for her in the world. "Evie."

"Alice," said Alice. And if it was a little too quick, well at least P.O.G. … Evie. Evie's smile was back at full wattage. "I'm Alice."

"Alice," repeated Evie, and Alice loved the way her name rolled off her tongue, like she was tasting it.

"Yeah." Such an inadequate response, and Alice found the silence returning.

"Well," Evie said, pushing up from the table. "Gotta run! It was lovely seeing you again, Alice." After a slight hesitation, she started toward the door. 

"Wait," Alice whispered. What had just happened? Shed just been talking to P.O.G… Evie, and now she was sitting alone. It never went this way in her head. In her head, she was charming and funny and P.O.G hung on her words and beamed at her, and maybe even kissed her. But this wasn't her head and now, put out by her silence, Evie was leaving. 

"Evie," Alice said, chair scraping against the floor, drawing annoyed glances from a study group not fair away. "Wait!"

Evie turned around, eyebrows raised as Alice caught up to her.

"I...um. I don't want to be one of those creepy people." The confusion on Evie's face made Alice continue in a rush. "I don't want to be that person who knows where the pretty girl she likes works and just shows up to buy stamps she doesnt need so that she'll smile at her and have to be nice to her because shes at work, but ultimately it's just creepy." Alice paused for breath, not sure if that cleared anything up. 

"I only needed one stamp." Alice added, breathless, becoming aware that she'd captured the attention of more than just Evie and the study group. She could almost forget all those eyes when Evie's mouth quirked up into a smirk.

"I think you should give me your number. Then, when I contact you, you'll know for certain there was no creeperness involved."

"O...ok." Alice turned and rummaged through her bag until fingers brushed against an old Sharpie. She'd recently purged the hoard receipts that normally lived there and after a moment of panic, she reached out and scrawled her number on the cardboard ring of Evie's coffee. Pausing, she then followed the number with a quick A. underneath the line of numbers. Just in case.

Pulling back, Alice met Evie's warm brown eyes and smiled. They grinned at each other until a hurried patron pushed past them, entering the shop.

"I do have to be going," Evie said, turning toward the door.

"Ok."

"Hope to see you soon," she said, raising her cup, where Alice's number stood out, bold against the paper.