I go to a Freewrite group twice a month if I’m in town. Attendees bring in writing prompts on a rotating basis, but we can also write without the prompts. The goal is to simply write.
Last week, a woman brought lines from songs. I pulled out several but settled on a line from a Crosby, Stills and Nash song – Suite Judy Blue Eyes. The line was this: Fear is the lock, and laughter the key to your heart.
I pulled it out, thinking of writing about the need to laugh more, or how to quell fears. But the moment I put pen to paper, something completely different came out. What follows is what I wrote – a complete fictional account. Let me know what you think. And remember, I don’t write fiction.
He made her laugh, but not enough for the key to work. There was just enough fear to keep her heart locked.
She wasn’t quite sure what it was that caused the fear. The bit of swagger in his walk? Perhaps, but she hadn’t minded the swagger Bobby’d had each time he led her to the dance floor, or to the pier, or to his bed.
Was it that darkness in his eyes? Not the brownness, but the darkness that overlay everything else.
That must be it. The darkness. She’d seen that same darkness in the eyes of a man on trial for murder when she’d sat on the jury. And she’d convicted him, too. Partly because of his eyes.
Now, here were those eyes again, the eyes of a murderer. His laughter and his ability to make her laugh nudged the key, pushing into her heart, but then he’d look at her a certain way, and the lock was firm once again.
It was the way he kept his head, facing down, and turned slowly to the side and up to look at her. Each time it made her flinch.
But now what was she to do? She’d been crazy to let him know where she lived. How was it he’d got it out of her?
And now, there he was across the table from her. Turning his head to the side and up to look at her.
She got up from the table and excused herself, saying she was sorry but she wasn’t feeling well and had to go home.
When she got there, she double checked the doors to be sure they were locked and made sure all the windows were tightly closed.
He used a glass cutter to come in through the window in the den.
Oh yeah. The warped humor would come pouring out of me at an exercise like that. Too late to be normal now 🙂
How chilling! Unnerving!
Good thing I know the conclusion…
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