I’ve got some trouble with this story. I've been working on the last part of it for some time now and the first part is actually a dream-sequence from a novel I'm working on, that I mended a little to merge the two into one story. The thing is that I just can't figure out what comes next and I really want to find out. Can you help me?
Please, if you have any ideas, leave some suggestions, words, phrases, themes, actions you'd like to see in the continuation of the story and maybe I'll take them up and post the next bit. What kind of story would you like this to turn into?
Let me know!
I'll also post this on the other blog (the one on blogger that I'm not going to give the link to lest this hub gets taken down like one of the others, but you can find it in my profile) and as a question on one of the forums. I hope you can help me out.
All best wishes,
Here's the story:
(I called it 'fog' for the time being, might change my mind on it, or not)
A thick fog surrounds me. I don’t know where it comes from, smoke whirls up from every side. It wells up from below my feet, left, right, above, it’s choking me!
How did this happen? Where is everyone?
I stumble to the wall, it has to be here, how many steps have it been? Finally my fingers touch the cold, soggy bricks. If I just line it, I’ll find my way back, won’t I? I can’t remember where to go. I’m coughing, every gasp brings in more mist and no air. It’s damp in my mouth, my throat. It fills my lungs with dew.
I can’t see. Where am I? I hold my hands out like a blind person, but the street is empty. Help! I shout as loud as I can, but there’s no reply. Where are the others? Help! Can’t anybody hear me? Please! My desperate calls are swallowed by the nowhere around. I’m all alone.
Slowly, the mist lifts. I start to discern vague contours. There is a figure ahead of me, I can see it shimmer in the distance, as if it is beckoning me to it. Where did it come from? As if it resurrects itself from the murk. The sound of footsteps, calm and controlled, pounds in my head.
“Is... Is someone there?”
The figure moves through the white clouds. I creep closer, only a few steps, I need to see, then arch back.
A pale hand, white and cold as the fog, forms out of the mist and two cool fingers touch my temples. and caress the side of my face along the cheekbones, all the way down.
“Who are you?”
We stand a few feet apart. My voice echoes through the silence. The miasma melts away and reveals two people alone in an abandoned alley. There is a distant laughter. Somewhere around a corner, in the light, there is a group of people passing by. Could I make it there, if I had to? But, do I want to?
“Who am I... Difficult question.”
He steps forward and a lantern gives his face a magical glow.
“Why are you following me?”
“Following you? Who says I am. Did you see me following you?”
She muses on it. No, she hadn’t even noticed him all night. Around her are walls, they’re closed in.
“What do you want?”
“Just have a little chat.”
“You have something I want.”
Something he wants? I don’t even know who he is."
“And what might that be?”
If I finish the story for you, will you co-credit me?
Best thing to do is brain storm it - make a list of the possibilities even the ridiculous ones then think about where the story wants to go next and pick from your list the most suitable idea. Hope that might help to lift the fog
He has his wallet. There's really no fog. The guy's just wasted, and dropped his wallet stumbling out of the bar.
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