In one sentence is the spark of a story. Ignite.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a memory about this sentence. Write something about this sentence.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!
She walks down the aisle, all calm and collected, with a blue teardrop down her chest. We are all eyes, watching, feeling vengeful, writhing spirits of the masses unable to sate our angry hunger.
It’s a choker, melded into a long pendant, with a lapis lazulis gem at its core, and there was only one in the world prior to this morning. Now she has set that question spinning in our minds because where could she have gotten that necklace? Nowhere, except if she had sunk her arm deep into the folds of the earth, and pulled.
We had all thought her a shady individual, one who would rather leap through alleyways than walk down the street in sunlight like any law abiding fool. Her hat shop she ran with the strangest efficiency—anyone who walked in could expect to lose a solid three hours of their life there, perusing hats of every kind, wondrously tall ones and ones that glimmered in the night. Yet those who visited her shop came out unchanged, completely remaining suspicious of her and never having a good word to say about her. It would be as if those three hours of their lives they had deposited at her doorstep were separate and alien to them now.
So to watch her stride past us, the gem sparkling on her bosom, was to cast her in a new light entirely: grave robber. And as much as we balled our fists and clenched our jaws, we were powerless to interfere. She walked on, dress trailing in the dim light, a specter in her element, fading into the mist.