2020; 100 words a day - Day 0

Day 0 - I feel like I have two directions for the previous days story starter to continue. Below you will find both options.  I would love some feedback as to which you prefer or if there is another direction to take the story.

Option 1 (251 words)- Over 90 minutes had passed when they realized Jake Houser, one of the high school freshman who commonly mentored at the middle school was missing as well.  He was assigned to work with Jose on his math on Thursday afternoons. Mr. Ashby’s class was always in a bit of a state of chaos, but the snow had driven the kids almost to a frenzy.  By the time it dawned on Mr. Ashby that Jake had also gone to the bathroom and not returned, the entire school was on lock down and both the local police and state highway patrol were on scene.  Each teacher had taken roll time and time again, but Jake’s name was not on the class roll and Mr. Ashby forgot in his haste to follow the school threat situation plan.  

When he called down to the office, the secretary Ms. Shelly was confused as to whether Jake had simply returned to the high school.  It took three phone calls and a visit from a deputy for the high school to confirm what was already being assumed at the middle school.  That not only were four middle school girls missing, so was a high school boy. Ms. Lamb and Mr. Gerig were radioed the news and shared it with Chief Conway, the New London chief of police, who was standing with them at the door that had been left open.  The parents of the girls were soon to arrive and it was time to decide how to proceed.

Option 2 (412 Words) - Lainey began to get light headed as they crossed into the woods.  Each step brought on a shift in the colors of the few remaining leaves and the trunks of trees.  Her head felt like it did when she tried to read in the car on her family’s trips upstate to visit her grandparents. She looked down at the blood slowly dripping from her hand and her stomach did a small flip.  Lainey had never done well with the sight of blood, even worse when it was her own. She started to look to her left and talk to Rose, but the motion of her head made the nausea worse. She looked back down and kept putting one foot in front of each other, and wondering how there was still so much blood.  

Silvey was worried at how slowly they were moving.  With each step the school got smaller and the trees got thicker, but it wasn’t happening quickly enough.  Her heart was filled with fear and she tossed furtive glances over her shoulder at the receding wall of the school.  She knew they had no choice to go, but now that they were on their way it felt impossible. Her voice sounded strange to her as she barked at the other three, “We have to go faster.  If not, it may be too late!” She hated the way she sounded like a scared kid, but if no one else was worried, she had to be.

Why had she said yes?  Why did she always have to follow Silvey?  Why couldn’t she have just said no? Rachel hated that she didn’t think for herself.  She was always sure she was wrong and waited for someone else to tell her what to do. This time it was bad and she was sure she should have said no.  She was sure the blood was all her fault. Rachel knew that the end was coming for one of them and it was all her fault.

With each step, Rose knew they had made the right decision.  It had to be done. She was sorry that Lainey bore the physical scars of what had happened, but they all would deal with the mental forever.  The choice had been made and the four did what had to be done. The only thing Rose and the three had to decide now was how far they had to run and if they would ever be able to stop running.

2020; 100 words a day: Day -1

#3 - 619 Words

Snow has a way of muffling the sound of the world until everything fades into background static.  The noise of traffic and people give way to the soft crunch of footsteps. From the moment the first flake falls until the world is covered, the transition quickens the expectation of those who seek tranquility in a deafening world.  A snow-covered landscape is the playground of all. The introvert finds solace in the quiet and calm. The child discovers new worlds racing down the avalanche ready cliff face or defending their fort from the coming marauders. The athlete sees a new challenge or a day of rest.  The one thing snow doesn’t do is provide anonymity. As each flake is disturbed, by heat or by pressure, evidence is left. A person can get lost in the sea of white, but rarely do they leave no trace. The footsteps faded with each passing minute and they knew they were running out of time.

Callie had been missing for just over 25 minutes when her teacher noticed she hadn’t come back from the bathroom.  No one knew she was missing, only that 7th graders tend to wander. Callie, and her friends affectionately known as the Airheads, were more prone to wander than others. At that mark Mr. Sullivan, the Social Studies teacher, called down to the office to see if Callie had turned up at the nurses office.  He explained to the tired secretary, who had been dealing with calls from parents asking if school was ending early due to the heavily falling snow, how long she had been gone and her hastily expressed need to go to the bathroom to deal with “girl problems.” It was the school equivalent of a get out of jail free card.  Teachers didn’t mess with that explanation. The secretary said she would check with the nurse and call him back.  

When she called five minutes later, the secretary sounded concerned.  Three other teachers had phoned the office with similar stories. Girls had walked up and asked to go to the restroom.  All had now been missing for over thirty minutes. The principals were out searching the building and she would get back to him as soon as she knew more.

Mr. Gerig, the first year assistant principal, was the first to notice the door.  It was at the end of a rarely used hallway that ran between the kitchen and the boiler room.  He probably wouldn’t have even glanced in its direction, as students rarely even came to this part of the building, but a tendril of cold air caressed his arm as he passed.  The door was propped slightly open and a small mound of snow was building on the waxed tile floor. As he walked down the corridor, he expected to find the janitor or a cook standing outside taking an ill-advised smoke break just outside the door.  What he found instead were 4 distinct sets of footprints headed towards the woods that ringed the back of the property where the school met the national park. The footsteps were slowly fading as more snow fell and wind pushed across the open space.  There was no sign of anyone outside the door and no shelter for over 20 miles in the direction the footsteps led. Mr. Gerig grabbed his walkie talkie to call Ms. Lamb the principal when he noticed the bright red dots alongside the rightmost set of footprints.  A note of fear entered his voice as he said, “Ms. Lamb, I need you to come to door 21 as quickly as you can. I am afraid it may already be too late.” He was still staring into the woods when Ms. Lamb arrived.

2020 100 a day: Day -2;

#1 - 149 words

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound of each drop hitting the puddle was the same.  The same as it had been the minute before. The same it had been each hour.  The same it had been for each of the previous three days. There was no light.  There was no heat. There was nothing except the drip and the blinding light each time he checked his watch.  He knew the time passing. He knew the texture of the concrete floor within arms reach in each direction. He knew his right ankle was beginning to bleed from the cuff that held him in place. He knew the puddle was within that circle.  His whole world had been reduced to that small circle and the two senses that still worked in this hellish environment. He could hear the drip and feel his surroundings. Mostly what he felt was his mind slipping away.

#2 - 63 words

The pounding on the door drummed into my brain.  I tried to ignore it, but it just continued, uninterrupted.  As my eyes slowly opened, I tried to remember what and where I was. I was still in my clothes from the day before and my shoes were in the middle of the rug.

Video of our classroom

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Waiting

Time is drawing close
Each day gathers the future to its brow
Seeking solace in the promise
Beyond the towering horizon

How near the zenith
Reach and touch the apex of the mount
The future and past mingle
Just beyond the reach of Man

A welcome pull of fate
Ever marching forward, up the hill
Stumbling toward the mark
Time is drawing close

The Choice - Novella Ch 1

      
This is my first attempt in years at a longer story.  This is chapter 1.  I will be working on the rest over the next couple of days.  I have several ideas for the story, but would welcome any comments or feedback offered.  


      When you think about it, a red pen is just like a sword.  Usually it sits in its sheath, only to be pulled as needed.  Both draw blood, but only one metaphorically.
      As James sat with the red pen dangling from his fingers, he thought of each student as he read and re-read their work.  He hated choosing to swipe the pen.  Each swipe brought the student down, but he knew they were hurt more when he was unwilling to do the right thing.  It seemed like each passing year made it harder and harder to make the choice.  When James began teaching seven years before, he and Natalie had just gotten married, it was a clear line for him.  All mistakes must be pointed out and fixed.  His stance had softened after he realized that some kids needed the grace to help them learn from their failure.
     James gave up for the evening and packed away his notebooks and his students work.  He placed it all into his satchel, closed the lid on his MacBook, switched off his desk lamp, and walked to the door.  He glanced out of the window as he walked and was greeted with the sight of the full moon over the parking lot.  He had to find a way to start getting home to Natalie and the girls earlier.  It wasn't fair to Nat to expect her to deal with work all day and cranky five year old twins each night.  He loved his family and wished he could do more than just spend weekends and summers with his girls.
     His eyes were again drawn to the sky as he reached his old, rusty Ford.  He was pleased to see a shooting star and silently wished for his daughters to grow into beautiful, smart women.  The old wives tale gave him comfort, even if the thought of teenage daughters made him shudder with apprehension.  He got into the truck, turned on the motor, and began his short journey to his home.

*****

       It stooped, shriveled and bent, waiting for the rusty, old Ford to make its appearance.  The size and shape of a large man, it seemed to absorb all light in its vicinity.  With each passing second, its agitation grew.  The trucks lights cut swath though the darkness, passing over the motionless form of the watcher and stopping when James reached his drive.  As he parked and walked inside, he had no idea of the choice the night would bring.

Next

As the four sat around the table, each man kept his eyes on the pistol in the middle of the table.  They could smell the tinge of gun powder and feel the empty chair more than they could see it.  The tall one on the end spoke first, but none of the rest could make out the words he muttered.  It was soon clear from his actions that he intended to go next.  He rose, grabbed the gun, and with a trembling hand prayed for forgiveness as the barrel found its target.