Status: something to help the writer's block
The Irony is That This Cell Phone Has Gone Through Dante's Inferno and Back and Still Looks Better Than You
In Which He Did Not Run Fast Enough
James was halfway home, Will trailing a few feet behind, when a car barreled past them. He didn’t know much about driving, but he knew cars weren’t supposed to go that fast in this neighborhood. His mom always yelled at his dad for having feet filled with lead.
He didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but the point was that something was wrong.
James turned the corner, and at the very end of the street, just before the left turn and the cul-de-sac, he saw Natalia ambling across the street for a tennis ball.
The car still wasn’t slowing down.
His heart constricted, then. He was filled with a feeling he didn’t know how to deal with. He didn’t want to deal with it.
James took off at a dead sprint, Will shouting his name behind him to no avail. James could see nothing, hear nothing but the sound of barking mixed with shrieking.
He ran but he couldn’t get there in time.
He didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but the point was that something was wrong.
James turned the corner, and at the very end of the street, just before the left turn and the cul-de-sac, he saw Natalia ambling across the street for a tennis ball.
The car still wasn’t slowing down.
His heart constricted, then. He was filled with a feeling he didn’t know how to deal with. He didn’t want to deal with it.
James took off at a dead sprint, Will shouting his name behind him to no avail. James could see nothing, hear nothing but the sound of barking mixed with shrieking.
He ran but he couldn’t get there in time.
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I'm hurting myself with this story