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 - a challenge - 52 short stories in 52 weeks...something must be worth reading, right? |
Amy wasn’t surprised to find Ellie spinning around on the swivel chair. The young woman, with the crew-cut and silver highlights, was staring at the ceiling and making ‘pew-pew’ noises from her pursed lips. A pen balanced under her nose like a moustache, and the computer screen in front of her was painfully blank. “Nothing yet, huh?” Amy asked as she peeled out of her coat and dumped her textbooks on her side of the room. “Tough prompt today?” “Noooot really,” Ellie crooned. “We have to use the words: Trunk, Ghost, and Attic.” “Sounds easy enough.” “Yeaaaaaah,” Ellie drawled in agreement. She stopped spinning long enough to pout at her roommate. “But that’s the problem, Amy. It seems so…easy. Naturally, the mind goes straight to the typical ghost-story and that’s been written to death. I mean, I’ve seen the other entries, and they’re all great, but I wanna try something different.” “What can you possibly make different with those words?” Amy asked, switching on her laptop. She was only half-interested. Ellie was a die-hard fan of that writer’s site, and she could conjure up entire stories in under half an hour if the mood struck. Amy was usually the designated sounding board, nodding in the right places. But today, she had a Statistics assignment to finish and maybe a nap before meeting her boyfriend for drinks. “…it’s too specific,” Ellie was complaining. “We’ve been given a setting; the attic. So, it would make sense that the story should revolve or at least be driven in that direction. Attics are above ground; at the top of houses, especially old, creepy, and haunted houses. Typical.” By this time, Ellie was on her feet. She paced the room, arms flailing with frustration. “What if,” she said, “there was an attic on a spaceship?” “Unless it’s one hell of a spaceship, probably—” “And then we have the trunk,” Ellie continued as if Amy hadn’t spoken. “Another specific item. We know what trunks are; containers that hold so many things. Items. With memories. Good or bad. I smell dust. Age. Time. Decay.” “Uh-huh.” Amy stifled a yawn. “I see it. An abandoned, colossal spaceship drifting in space. There’s a place in it people call the attic—not literally, but symbolically. It's a forbidden zone. A void. Travelers speak of it with dread. Time twists inside it. A ghost, or ghosts, linger. No one knows when or where Time begins or ends in that space. It is a…a…a-” “Black hole?” Amy volunteered, now intrigued despite her weariness. “Worse than a black hole, Amy. So much worse.” Ellie gave a dramatic shiver. Her green eyes were ablaze with a myriad of scenarios racing through her mind. She paused at the window and stared out to the quadrangle where a few students were taking advantage of the great weather. “Captain Andrea McConnell considers it a challenge,” Ellie continued as she studied one of the students; a bespectacled full-figured gal sitting alone on a bench. She was eating a sandwich and jotting into her notebook; headphones on and lost in whatever she was working on. “She and her crew will dare to go into this great attic…no…this void of nothingness where ghosts of brave travellers past have dared to tread. They are the-” “USS Moronics?” “Hardy har har,” Ellie scoffed at Amy’s attempt at levity. “But yes, Andrea and her brave crew of ten officers will take the journey into The Void. They know there’s a probability they will never return, but for the sake of the world…no…for history, they will take the risk.” Amy opened her mouth to give another witty comment, but Ellie was already dashing to her desk and before long, the familiar click-clack of her fingers against the keyboard filled the room. Amy smiled and forced herself to focus on her work. She knew the drill. When Ellie’s Muse struck, it was best to let her be until the demons were exorcized. “Phew. Done! And just in time for submission,” Ellie would announce about forty minutes later. “Doubt I’ll win the round, but it was fun to write.” “And how did it end?” Amy asked; her eyes still trained on her computer screen where the figures danced as she struggled to make sense of the question asked. “You should read it. I can’t tell you.” “Ellie, I don’t have the time-” The familiar Dell laptop was slammed before her, and with an exasperated look at the grinning woman standing beside her, Amy resigned herself to reading the short story. By the end of it – “Whoa! They all died? Just like that?” Ellie nodded with a sad smile. She paced to the window again, where ‘Andrea’ the bespectacled girl – who had longed finished her sandwich – was now packing up her books in readiness to go indoors. “They fought bravely,” Ellie said quietly. “But each had brought, with them, trunks full of ghosts and guilt over sins committed. No one was able to avoid the lull of the Void and it willingly swallowed them whole. They had all failed to do the most important thing; to learn how to forgive themselves and others. Andrea would realize that at the last minute.” Amy nodded in understanding; a quick glance at her solemn friend letting her know that there was more to this story than met the eye. Writers always leave a bit of themselves behind in their stories, she thought. Whatever ghosts Ellie carried, Amy hoped she’d find a way to let them go—before it was too late. ------------------------ Word Count: 921 Prompt: Use these words in your entry: TRUNK - GHOST - ATTIC Written For: "The Writer's Cramp"  |
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