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    Writing Prompts: Spark Your Creativity [Scene Stealers]

    Welcome to Scene Stealers, our  series of writing prompts designed to flex your creative muscles.

    We’re thrilled that so many of you are participating in our writing prompt series.

    In case you’re not familiar with Scene Stealers, here’s how it works:

    • We set the scene
    • You steal it, make it your own, and,
    • Share your creation in the comments section of this post

    Of course, it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to share your work, but we hope you’ll do the exercise anyway.

    We occasionally use Scene Stealer ideas submitted by our reader. If you’d like to submit a Scene Stealer idea, please look at the information at the end of this post—it’s easy to submit an idea.

    Now for the ground rules:

    • You must use the exact wording we provide—in this case it must appear in the beginning of your story.
    • Your story must be 350 words or less.
    • Your work must be original and not previously published.
    • WTD provides an encouraging and safe environment for writers to grow and learn from each other. We’d love you to comment on other people’s submissions in a friendly and supportive manner.
    • We reserve the right to delete any comments or entries we deem inappropriate and those that do not meet the specifications above.

    This week’s installment is designed is designed to spark your creativity. Do you want to write a science fiction fable, a natural disaster yarn, a war story, or something else? You decide.

     Scene Stealer #6

     The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go.

    Now steal this line and make it your own.

    We can’t wait to see what develops.

    Want to submit an idea for an upcoming Scene Stealer?

    It’s easy. It’s easy. Go to the Contact page and send your idea us.  Be sure to include your full name, email address and, if you’d like, a link to your blog or website. If your idea is selected, we will share this information with our readers, so they’ll know how to find you.

    By Cheryl Craigie, Contributing Editor at Write to Done. Cheryl also blogs at The Manageable Life

     

    About the author

      Mary Jaksch

      Mary Jaksch is best known for her exceptional training for writers at WritetoDone.com. Grab her latest all new course Blogwriter's Bootcamp 2.0 or a copy of her free report, How to Create an Irresistible Lead Magnet in Less Than 5 Hours. In her “spare” time, Mary’s also the brains behind AlistBlogging.net. and GoodlifeZEN.com, a Zen Master, a mother, and a 5th Degree Black Belt.

    • Mark says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go.

      “Damn it,” he swore. He’d lost track of time thanks to the oppressive cloud cover that had hung overhead all day. He glanced at his wrist, then laughed at himself as the broken crystal and the frozen hands beneath reminded him – again – that the obscured sun was his only watch now since there was no on left to fix the one he’d broken. He wondered briefly why he continued to wear it, but he knew. Sara had given it to him, and it was the last thing he had to remind him of her. It and the jagged scar across his ribs her knife had left him, though that gift had been from a different Sara. She had been changed, along with everyone and everything else. He wondered how he’d changed since the world had gone crazy, was sure Sara would be able to tell him were she still there. The voice sounded again, interrupting his ill-timed reverie, reminding him he had roughly three minutes to get underground.

      Finn didn’t recall arriving at the bridge, but it was far from the first time he’d stumbled from the labyrinth of his memories and found himself perched atop it’s crumbling span. It was a place that had meant something to him once, when the stars still hung in the sky and water still flowed beneath. He navigated his way down to the river bed below, now a cracked, winding scar bisecting the town, the warning voice lending urgency to his steps. He glanced up, trying to peer through the clouds, hopeful that maybe the alarm had sounded early. Only it never did, because the machines that ran it never lost time. How the generators had lasted this long was a mystery to him. That they hadn’t been ransacked like the rest of the world was not. Martan’s foolish plan to do just that had demonstrated the deadly efficiency of the Alliance facility’s automated defenses long after those manning it had fled.

    • Fayth says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go.

      Alex looked to the right and to the left. Both passages were dimly lit and could lead anywhere. Picking up his bag, Alex slung it over his shoulder as he darted to the left.

      His feet slid over loose gravel and he lost his footing again and again. As Alex stumbled between the narrow stone walls, he could hear yelling and cursing behind him. The further he ran, the darker the tunnels became. His eyes couldn’t adapt to the darkness fast enough.

      He had to get the list of safe houses to his contact before the soldiers intercepted him. Or he had to destroy it to protect them, but doing so would set the Alliance back months.

      Again, he heard the strange voice. Whether it came from inside or outside of him, it urged Alex to take cover.

      ‘Where? Where am I supposed to take cover?’

      Alex searched the darkness as he ran, trying to spy a crack or seam in the stone walls. Drenched in sweat, he felt himself tremble and his breath grow short as panic seized him. The soldiers were closing in. And the list was still in his bag.

      Alex reached behind him as he ran and blindly tugged at the ripcord at the top of the bag to pull out the list. He’d eat the list if he had to. Ripping it to shreds would only slow the army down. They’d reassemble it in no time.

      Suddenly Alex’s feet slipped out from under him and his fell hard onto the stone floor. He heard the bone in his arm crack before he felt it. A moan escaped his lips. He rolled over against the wall to brace himself, but as he did, he hand found air, rather than rock. There was a crevice in the stone wall.

      Alex pulled himself in, seconds before the guards ran past.

      ‘Cover.’ Alex leaned his damp forehead against the wall and wept, his good hand clutching the list.

    • Tammy says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. Safety in a Ginsu Knife factory was hard to come by, especially in one eighteen stories up, with a glass wall overlooking the Huangpu River.

      Alvin scanned the room and confirmed that all employees had evacuated. Corporate espionage bombs would detonate in minutes. Bombs provided a drastic solution, but in the long run a better one than allowing years of research to fall into a competitor’s hands. The blast would destroy the lab, but not the building and they could rebuild as long as the research remained safe. As CEO, the monetary loss of a shutdown annoyed him, yet the thought of firing Daniel, the new head of security, gave him some comfort.

      The warning sounded again, and Alvin reached for the doorknob. A metallic clank signaling the floor-wide lockdown mechanism vibrated through the doorknob and into his hand. His fingers trembled as he withdrew them. He strode to a recessed niche in the wall which housed the override panel. From there and with the master code, he could reverse the glitch that trapped him.

      He shook his head in disgust. I should’ve known better than to hire Sophie’s cousin’s nephew. After fifteen years of marriage, he’d never met a single person from Sophie’s family capable of anything but a screw-up. Cousin, nephew—whatever he was, regardless of family relationship, Daniel could expect an ass chewing tonight and a pink slip tomorrow.

      Alvin keyed in the code and waited. The disembodied voice repeated its warning. Alvin entered the code again, but no voice called “all clear”. His fingers stabbed the keypad again and again as seconds ticked down to none.

      * * *

      “Do you think he’ll figure it out in time? Daniel poured champagne into a Baccarat flute and handed it across the bed to Sophie.

      She extended a naked arm from beneath the sheets to take the glass. “Not a chance.” Her smile stretched into something wicked before touching her champagne glass to Daniel’s. “Uncle Alvin’s never been the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

    • The disembodied voice said to take cover but He didn’t know where to go. He never knew where to go, or what I should be looking out for, or just when exactly my number would be up. It was just vague prophecies, dire warnings, and general portents of doom.

      But I always listened to Him. I was afraid that the one time I didn’t would be the one time I should have. So I jumped behind the nearest dumpster, gravel and glass biting into my knees and the accumulated stench of the city’s waste climbing into my nose.

      “Okay, I took cover. Now what?” Silence. Of course. I peeked slowly around the side of my stinky safe haven and saw nothing but an empty alley. “I believe I said, now what?”

      “They are coming,” He said, “Prepare yourself.”

      In a sudden chilled panic, I swung my head left and right, looking for anything that could pass for a weapon. Rotting cucumber: no. Mud-covered teddy bear: no. Twelve inch knockoff Oscars statuette: perhaps. I picked up the Oscar statue and gave it a couple of trial swings. It might divert my attackers with laughter long enough for me to get away.

      Footsteps in the alley, heavy, fast, and terrible. My breath left me as thunder rolled across the sky. What in the Hell was going on?

      “Not Hell. They are from Heaven,” said the Voice.

      “What do they want with me?” I whispered.

      “They have not come for you,” He said,”they have come for me.”

      I peeked into the alley again and found Them looking right at me. Their awful beauty stunned me. I felt death inside me. It was a solid, growing thing and They were calling to it.

      I stood up and walked towards them like a condemned man. There were three of Them. I heard the one in front although his lips didn’t move.

      “It is time to go home, Little One.”

      And that’s when the Voice in my head began to growl.

    • Tim says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go.
      “What do you mean you don’t where to go?”
      “I told you to take cover. Do I need to do everything for you?”
      “It would be quite kindly if you could offer a little more advice.”
      “Whilst we speak the danger draws neigh. Take cover and be saved.”
      “From what? I suppose you know, but please, suffer me the details.”
      “I’ll suffer to see your demise if you don’t pay heed.”
      “This is getting us nowhere.”
      “Quit true, now take cover please, I beseech you.”
      “Yes, well, as you know I’ve few refuges. What do you recommend?”
      “As I said, take cover.”
      “How long do I have?”
      “Moments I suspect, maybe less.”
      The panic set in. She surveyed her surroundings, weighed her options, and dove under a cot.
      The slot in the door opened. Light poured in. The metallic
      clanging sound, so much a part of her fear and daily existence, rang loudly.
      The tray slid in. Hamburger patty, macaroni and cheese, and the most dreaded of all – the fruit cup.
      Lunch was served!

    • Denise Coleman says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. He had read about things like this happening to people, but he wasn’t a character in a book or in a made for TV movie. This was real life. How was he supposed to know what to do?

      Jacob looked around for something that might provide a hint. Where was the voice coming from? Why did he need to take cover? Where should he go?

      He was sitting outside when he was suddenly aware of a buzzing sound. Bzzz, Bzzz. He picked up his cell phone carefully.

      “Hello, Jacob, is that you? Are you okay?”

      “Why, is something wrong?”

      “Didn’t you hear that voice?” his friend asked. “Do you know whose voice it was?”

      “How do you know he was calling me? It could have been calling anyone. “

      “He said your name. Didn’t you hear it?”

      “You’re making that up. He didn’t say my name. He just said to take cover. He could have been talking to anyone. To you even.”

      “Why would he tell me to take cover? I definitely heard him say Jacob. “

      Now he was sure someone was playing a joke on him. His sister and some friends maybe? Having decided to ignore the voice, Jacob settled into his hammock and began to read.

      “You call that taking cover, Jacob?”

      “Who is that? Who’s there?”

      “Listen to me or you will be sorry.”

      The voice still came from nowhere yet seemed to be everywhere. This time Jacob did hear his name.

      Jacob hung a blanket over the hammock, like a tent. He put together some snacks, a big flashlight, his book and a pillow, before climbing under the hammock and into his tent. What the hell, he thought, I am technically under cover. That’s all I was asked to do.

      And Jacob spent the rest of the day ‘under cover’ never noticing the two men in the big truck that pulled up in front of the house and emptied all his belongings into it.

    • cristina says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. Squinting through the sweat, he scanned the rocks and scrub around him in vain. Judd darted in a random direction when he noticed the edge of a wash – camouflaged by some rabbit bushes. He dove headfirst over the edge – hoping there wasn’t a fatal drop or shards of glass waiting for him – when the bullets whizzed above him. Relief at the close call helped numb the pain now radiating from his left shoulder. It was sprouting with cholla cactus – the worst stickers of them all – but he was glad for it. The pain meant he was still alive and, in this game, that was enough.
      The sun was climbing even higher now – the coolness and stark beauty of a Sonoran desert morning burned to a crisp too soon. He had just escaped the first two traps when his thirst started to tickle. Now it was throttling him with desperation. His clothes were soaked through while his insides were as parched as the ground below him. But he was still alive. Five traps down, two more to go before they sounded the gong that would be his death knell or the start of a new life. Although he hoped for the latter, even the former would be better than going back. He’d heard about the fortunes and accolades heaped on previous champions. Judd couldn’t care less. If he made it through today, he’d smile for the cameras and then at the first chance, he’d grab the prize money, break Sarah out of the dissenter’s cell and disappear. He just wanted out of this deadly pecking order of a society completely. He’d rather die right here than join the ranks of the pink, tight-faced Plumpers.
      The warning siren tore his mind back to the present. Time for another quasi-clever clue in that bloodless, sing song voice.
      “You’re going to need more than curiosity to kill this one.”
      Judd felt his stomach clench. Behind him came a faint rustling from the rabbit bushes.

    • Steve says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. Other than this unsettling voice all else seemed normal. The market street of this small Iranian town he patroled seemed like any other day. Few children that appoached desiring the candy he would hand them. Scar battered dogs rumaging the trash looking for a meal.

      Then out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of it. The building across the street that appeared vacant
      in shambles from a misslie attack. The window on the second floor a flash of light from some reflective source. Then The rifle that peeked out in search of a target.

      He grabbed a young girl in the process of unwrapping the sucker she just received. Then dove for cover
      behind the jeep he used for patrol. His body covering her from the assault that soon followed. Hoping for
      a break so he could reach in the jeep to fetch his rifle.

    • Eve says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. He was aware of the restraints, yet did not try to fight them. The noises, who were these people? Jack closed his eyes and somehow knew if he would concentrate hard enough his head would clear, and this moment would reveal reason.

      There was a low whining sound. This sound accompanied the bang and clatter of metal against metal, squeaky brakes, and whizzing wheels. Voices, “over here,” “help me,” “Mommy,” they all sounded desperate, yet almost as if in slow motion. Jack felt himself mouth the words, “what’s going on?” Could it only have been a few minutes ago? It seemed like a life time.

      Jack opened his eyes as the paddles closed in on his chest.

    • Jennifer125 says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. He ran down the petal strewn aisle, grasping the arm of his bride-to-be. They froze, straining to hear over the music and frantic voices of the guests. It made no sense, the ship was steady, the sun’s warm embrace betrayed no sign of rough seas. Then he saw it, it wasn’t a wave exactly, but a growing ridge of water heading toward the ship. He could feel the ship moving, groaning as the crew tried to reorient quickly to meet the watery challenge.

      The gravity of the situation hit him at once. Securing his bride to his side, they rushed into the dining room, diving into the corner. Wedged between the wall and the heavy padded bench, the held on desperately as the ship surged up, tilting precariously in the water. His stomach lurched as he felt the ship in free fall, the hull smacking the water. The jarring sensation was punctuated with the tinkling of breaking crystal and screams from his fellow passengers.

      Then, the calm. They tentatively stood, carefully brushing off debris as they made their way back onto the deck. The flower laden gazebo was smashed, Its vibrant flowers rhythmically dipping into the pool as water sloshed out, a stark contrast to the calm seas around them. The wall of water was moving quickly past, growing exponentially larger before his eyes. Soon it would obscure his view of the distant shore and southern California skyline.

      Something caught his eye amidst the skyscrapers, a flash of light and tuft of smoke. Where his eyes playing tricks on him? It looked like the buildings were swaying like trees in an unseen wind. As two buildings simultaneously buckled and shifted, he was startled to hear feel the urgent vibration of his phone. It was a news alert–a devastating earthquake… in Germany? His blood ran cold. The frantic voices and electronic cacophony drowned out the sound of the sea. Then he heard the disembodied voice repeat the chilling message to take cover.

    • Denise Coleman says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. He had read about things like this happening to people, but he wasn’t a character in a book or in a made for TV movie. This was real life. How was he supposed to know what to do?

      Jacob looked around for something that might provide a hint. Where was the voice coming from? Why did he need to take cover? Where should he go?

      He was sitting in the shade when he was suddenly aware of a buzzing sound. Bzzz, Bzzz. He picked up his cell phone carefully.

      “Hello, Jacob, is that you? Are you okay?”

      “Why, is something wrong?”

      “Didn’t you hear that voice?” his friend asked. “Do you know whose voice it was?”

      “How do you know he was calling me? It could have been to anyone. “

      “He said your name, didn’t you hear it?”

      “You’re making that up. He didn’t say my name. He just said to take cover. He could have been talking to anyone. To you even.”

      “Why would he tell me to take cover? I definitely heard him say Jacob. “

      Now he was sure someone was playing a joke on him. His sister and some friends, maybe? Having decided to ignore the voice, Jacob settled into his hammock and began to read.

      “You call that taking cover, Jacob?”

      “Who is that? Who’s there?”

      “Listen to me or you will be sorry.”

      The voice still came from nowhere but now it sounded different. This time Jacob did hear his name.

      Jacob hung a blanket over the hammock, like a tent. He put together some snacks, a big flashlight, his book and a pillow, before climbing under the hammock and into his tent. What the hell, he thought, I am technically under cover, that’s all I was asked to do.

      And Jacob spent the rest of the day ‘under cover’ never noticing the two men in the big truck that pulled up in front of the house and emptied all his belongings into it.

    • Gail Romaine says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. Grabbing up all his GI Joes with both fists, he turned first toward the closet—no good, the Middle-of-the-Night Ogre would gobble them all up, M16s and all! He turned back toward the bed, ready to dive under it—but knew that a multitude of goblins and goonies lurked there, ready to eat his flesh, without even killing him first! Would he dare go to Mom and Dad’s room? Definitely not, he wasn’t supposed to be up playing at this hour—they’d kill him for sure! Quick! Where to go? Suddenly, he was startled by a loud rapping on the door, accompanied by the query, “Johnny, are you okay?” and he felt a familiar warmth flow down his pajama bottoms and trickle over his foot. He instinctively dropped the action figures to grab his crotch, and opening the closet door without a sound, went inside and collapsed in silent sobs.

    • The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. He nervously hid behind a pile of boxes knowing that even as the Head Pharmacist at the Clinic he should not be there when off-duty. Adam knew that his long-time girlfriend Rosa would be coming here soon to sign-off duty. What did the voice mean? Suddenly he could hear a gunshot sound accompanied by an array of screeching voices. This was immediately followed by a deafening silence…Frantically pressing the light switch on his watch the time showed as being just after midnight. What had happened? Where was she? Was she alright? Would he be safe here? After what seemed like forever but what could only have been seconds he came out from hiding, turned on the light, opened the door only to see his girlfriend standing straight in front of him with an impish grin on her face holding a portable radio/tape recorder. Looking at the shock on his face she switched it back on. ‘Take Cover’ said the weird voice. White as a ghost he had completely forgotten that it was Halloween tonight and much to his horror a friend he had confided in had forewarned his girlfriend that he would be waiting for her so she had decided to play a prank on him. However she did not realise that he was going to propose and as he placed the ring on her finger she felt a tinge of guilt at having put him through such a cruel prank! At least she knew he was thinking of her when be boldly appeared out of the storeroom. Just as they were about to leave a strange twist of fate ensued. From the corridor loudspeakers a loud voice roared ‘Take Cover’. Seconds later the hurricane rushed over the building but fortunately nothing nor no-one there had any lasting after effects as everyone was so glad they were walking, alive and breathing.

    • Lori Riverstone says:

      How long had he been in the room? His lengthening beard measured the time; no other indication was as constant. His hand traveled down from his chin, stopping at his chest, pulling hard just to feel. He barely existed in silence and darkness.

      And then, the room began to slowly lighten, imperceptibly at first and then most certainly. His shape was alone in the room, no other furnishings provided perspective. So he sat against the wall, trembling, watching his legs and feet gradually appear before him.

      Then static, near soundless static, began to fuzz its way into his consciousness, growing ever-so-slightly and eventually louder until he could no longer hear the blood rushing in his ears, or his heart pounding in his chest.

      When the static approached unbearably loud, a voice from above sliced through it, reintroducing time. Something was happening, changing. Things would be different now.

      The voice offered seven minutes. Seven minutes until the door opens. Seven minutes until fate arrives. He waited, but not patiently, crouched in the corner, head jerking as he surveyed the slimy floor, walls, the ceiling. The door. The cube of a room that contained him.

      Time slowed, each minute stretching into eternity. Time raced, each minute lasting a fraction of a second.

      The door finally began to open and he slid up the wall to stand, eyes widening. A small laugh. The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go.

    • The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. Wind drove the cold rain into his face. A wave crashed over the deck of the little skiff, soaking the dog on his lifejacket-turned-dog bed.

      “Sorry, dog.”

      A mile and a half west was an unnamed mangrove island, but he’d have to run directly into the wind to get to it. And there was a chance the outboard’s prop would be torn off by an unseen oyster bar before he ever made it to the sparse shelter mangroves would provide. He looked to the dog for guidance. The dog lowered its head back to the soaked PFD.

      East it was. A three mile run with a tailwind. The seventeen-foot skiff wasn’t designed for rough seas like this. He would never have set out if the NOAA morning weather report mentioned this system. He couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he turned the skiff to the east.

      “Damn weathermen,” he said to the dog. At least the rain won’t be blown into his face any longer. He took a sip from his travel mug, knowing the coffee would be cold and diluted with rainwater. He was right. He grimaced and tossed the remaining coffee overboard. “God-damn weathermen!” The dog lifted his head again.

      He eased the throttle forward, moving the boat toward the faint lights of the beach houses. His wife would be staring through the windows of one of them. She will be worried, with that changing to rage once she saw him arrive safely. This he knew as fact.

      The worry-to-anger transition reminded him of a patron offered him life advice when he was bartending: “Bitches be crazy, man. Bitches be crazy.” He angled the little skiff up a wave and laughed, looking at the soaked dog beside him.

      “Yup, they can be. Maybe we should just stay out here. Probably safer, huh? No coffee, though.”

      The dog ignored him. He pushed the throttle forward and adjusted his course. The lights were getting closer.

    • The first one was so much fun I wrote another one from a different point of view.

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. Besides, why should he take cover? He wasn’t in any danger.

      “Who are you to tell me to take cover?” he said to the voice, “I’m not taking cover unless you tell me why and show yourself. How will I know where to take cover unless you tell me why and where?”

      The disembodied voice said “Take cover.”

      “No! I’m not taking cover. Why should I listen to some voice from somebody I can’t see?” He just stood there.
      “Take cover” boomed the disembodied voice.

      “No way. Why should I take cover? Who are you to tell me what to do?” He looked around, trying to find the voice.

      Damn, this guy was being difficult. People just wouldn’t listen anymore. The voice tried again “Take cover.”

      “No way. No way am I making a fool of myself so you can video me ducking and post it online. Where am I going to hide? Behind that car? Sure, I’ll go over there and you’ll jump out to scare me or something like that. I’m not taking cover. You quit hiding. Come out where I can see you.” he said.

      “Come on, take cover, I’m trying to protect you.” said the disembodied voice. “You’re going to get hurt if you don’t take cover.”

      “Who’s going to hurt me? I can’t see anybody and the only fool I hear is you. Quit hiding and come on out.” he said. The house he was in front of exploded killing him.

      “Damn” said the disembodied voice “I’m going to catch hell for this. Why won’t people listen anymore? That damn internet! Everybody, pulling pranks and making fools of people. That’s why nobody listens. They think everything is ‘Just for Laughs’.”

      The boss was waiting for him when he got back to the office. “Clarence, you lost another one. You’ll never get your wings if you keep losing the people you are supposed to protect. What type of guardian angel are you? You’re on suspension for a few years. Get out of here.”

    • Wes Morgan says:

      Scene Stealer #6

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go. The first explosion happened so suddenly and he knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the complex collapsed. The coach’s voice over the sound system on the practice field seemed to be directing activity while the players, most of whom were still in uniform, moved toward the visitor locker room and the exit in that part of the end zone.
      KaBoom! Tony was right, a second blast. Now it was difficult to see anything through the smoke. Sirens in the distance were little reassurance because EMT, Fire & Rescue, Police and others would have little or no access to the facility. In all the confusion, he hardly noticed the flickering on the big screen on the scoreboard as an image appeared slowly.

      “Coach, are you alright?”

      “I’m fine kid. We might be in the safest place right here in the observation tower.”

      “I guess so. My brother said the local news information is pretty sketchy. That was just before I lost cell phone service.”

      On the big screen a caricature of a 1960s newsman. It was a sort of digital image with an almost comic square jaw and horn rim glasses. In a measured cadence he delivered a message. “You have nothing to fear. You must not worry. Our forces will repair the damage to your facility once we have completed our mission. Do not attempt to escape.”

      “What the f*##?”

      “Kid, I hope these aliens give you full credit for your internship. If that Digital Walter Cronkite mother f*##er says his forces are gonna fix this place they better damn well give you full credit for your efforts.”

      “Coach, let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

      “I repeat do not attempt to leave. You will see that it is quite impossible. Your internet, media, and all electronics have been seized for your own safety.”

      “Holy sh*t. That animated news dude has complete control of this place. The doors are locked! We are trapped. What the hell is going on?”

    • Tiffany says:

      The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go.
      Jake looked over his shoulder just in time to see an explosion on the dock before his body was thrown forward and hit the ground with a thud. He felt something on top of him and looked over to see big, green eyes and brown hair cut in a bob surrounding a feminine face.
      “I told you to take cover,” she said.
      He wanted to say there was no where to go, but he’d lost his voice. This odd and somewhat attractive woman had come from nowhere. And how did she know an explosion would erupt just a few yards away.
      We have to go, she said. Standing up and pulling his arm with her. He wasn’t sure he could trust her, but she just saved his life, so he figured he should at least find out who she was.
      He followed her to a silver convertible, that looked tiny and sleek in the setting sun.
      “Get in,” she said.
      “Now wait a minute,” Jake said. “Where are we going?”
      “I don’t have time to explain, but trust me when I say you’re in danger,” she said.
      He got in the car not knowing if she meant he would be in danger if he stayed or if he was in danger because he was with her. Either way he was pretty sure she was right.
      She took off fast and began to tell him about some men who were following him. He couldn’t figure out why anyone would care about his mundane life until she said, “They know what you’re working on.”
      He had no idea how anyone could know what he was working on. After all, he lived on a sailboat on a small dock and only had a few friends around town. He had only docked there a few months before, taking time off as an engineer to do some engineering off his own. It was just a bit of a vacation to see what he could do on his own.

    • The disembodied voice said to take cover but he didn’t know where to go.

      How could he take cover in an empty warehouse? What was he supposed to hide from?

      The voice spoke again, louder “Take Cover”

      He turned and ran toward the door he had come in. The light over the door went out. All the lights leading to the door went out. He stopped running. His mind didn’t. What was going on? Who was the voice? Where was it coming from?

      He called out “Who are you? Where are you?”

      Even louder the voice said “Take Cover!”

      He called out “Take cover from what? What do you mean?”

      The disembodied voice boomed “Take Cover! Take Cover now!”

      After the echoing stopped he turned and ran toward the light at the end of the warehouse. He ran and ran and ran. The light never grew closer. Gasping for breath he stopped running. He looked around. He couldn’t see the door he had come in. The only thing he could see in the dark, cavernous warehouse was the light at the end of the warehouse.

      Booming even louder the disembodied voice said “Take Cover!” and then softer “Take Cover” and still softer “Take Cover, now.”

      He heard noises in the dark. Soft, scraping noises, something was coming. He called out “Who are you? Where are you? What do I need to hide from?”

      The soft, scraping noises were all around him. They were closing in. He could almost feel someone or something in the dark. He didn’t know which way to turn or where to hide. He ran for the light at the end of the warehouse. This time he was getting closer. He could see a door. He ran faster and around him the soft, scraping noises moved faster and faster.

      Just as he jumped through the open door something grabbed him.

      He fell to the floor with a thump. His mom was shaking him and said “Wake up and take Cover for a walk. She needs to go out and has been jumping and scraping at the door.”

    • Carole Mertz says:

      Dear Ms. Jaksch,

      I’d like to continue to receive your Write to Done emails. But my email address has changed. Please note, it’s [email protected] Hope to have blog and website soon.

      Thank you.
      Carole


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