Lucy Talloway
Three
White flames leaped around Lucy’s ankles, but they were as cold as ice. High above her, she saw the hand of god, reaching down a crooked finger, so close she could almost touch it. There was a black and white garden in the skies, but she had no hope of finding it. The ground closed up around her, and the flames turned red.
Lucy let out an ear piercing shriek as she awoke to find herself sprawled out in the back seat of her car, the air was stiflingly hot and made it hard to breath.
Wiping the sweat off her brow, she clambered out of the vehicle and made her way into the truck stop cafe.
One questionable burger later and Lucy was on her way again.
Three hours away Oscar Dawson sat hunched over his writing desk trying to meet a deadline. But for three weeks now he had found no inspiration. Once a highly productive writer, he could now scarcely squeeze out a sentence.
Out of his desk draw he pulled a bottle of scotch, and let out a low chuckle at what a cliché he had become.
He didn’t know a muse was coming, heralding the start of something terrible and beautiful.
Lucy let out an ear piercing shriek as she awoke to find herself sprawled out in the back seat of her car, the air was stiflingly hot and made it hard to breath.
Wiping the sweat off her brow, she clambered out of the vehicle and made her way into the truck stop cafe.
One questionable burger later and Lucy was on her way again.
Three hours away Oscar Dawson sat hunched over his writing desk trying to meet a deadline. But for three weeks now he had found no inspiration. Once a highly productive writer, he could now scarcely squeeze out a sentence.
Out of his desk draw he pulled a bottle of scotch, and let out a low chuckle at what a cliché he had become.
He didn’t know a muse was coming, heralding the start of something terrible and beautiful.