Chapter 1
Rose

To say the house was old would be an understatement.

Decrepit was more appropriate. Like an ancient gravestone, it sat waiting for nature to chip away bit by bit.

Creepy.

I was no sissy, but this freakish anomaly in the middle of the woods was too random, even for me. I wrapped my arms around my body as an involuntary shiver hit despite the humid June air.

I gasped as a movement stirred the brush.

Was it coming or going?

Too scared to find out, I scuttled to hide behind a bush. My pulse accelerated as the

[Reply]

By Liz on 03.21.09 10:41 pm | Permalink

You get 107.

Hell, did I really want to spend the next twenty years as an architect? A thought I should have had about four years and a couple of hundred thousand dollars ago. Not that I didn’t love the work, but some of the people were less than desirable. Of course I guessed that could be said about anywhere you worked. The large glass door closed behind me as I stepped from the building our office occupied on the third floor, into the warm autumn afternoon.

“Why is that woman naked, Mommy?” The child’s question broke me from my self-pitting reverie. Instinctively, I turned to see where he pointed.

[Reply]

By Sarah on 03.22.09 9:51 pm | Permalink

This is more than 100, but I can’t stand stopping before my sentance ends.

“I thought we were going to a Haunted House attraction not a real Haunted House,” Lisa said with a bit of fear in her voice.
“I thought this would be so much more fun for your 19th birthday. We can use our flashlights and wander around in the dark trying to find ghosts.” Jeff answered with a smirk in his voice. “Trust me,” he added, “We are going to have so much fun.”
Lisa didn’t like the edge in his voice. They had been dating for a little over a month and she didn’t feel comfortable being alone with him all night in some strange dark house. She began to protest, but Jeff stopped her.

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By Brenna on 03.23.09 10:36 am | Permalink

106, to finish a sentence. =)

******

Anne tried turning away, but it was difficult to ignore the man looking at her from across the cafe. She felt his gaze, as if it burned into her, and knew it was she he was staring at, despite Parisians spilling out of the cafe and onto the patio, even in the Fall.

She tried focusing on the conversation at a neaby table. High-school girls chatted in French, about history class and a boy named Ronaldo.

Anne glanced over, saw his steady gaze, and looked back to her table. She couldn’t believe she was bored enough to imagine that this man was watching her this intently.

[Reply]

By Liz S on 03.24.09 12:10 pm | Permalink