Writing Prompt/Theme Story - First Sentence and Time Travel

(This time I combined the theme post with my writing prompt. Not sure if I like the result or not - I'll let you be the judge)

The air was calm. The water was still. The insects in the surrounding jungle had stopped making a sound. It was like everything had just stopped all at once.  Jason looked around, mouth agape at the sudden silence – the deafening cacophony of nature, which had been his constant companion for the past two months, had never once abated. He took another step into the clearing, and tentative sounds emerged once more. Each step towards the obelisk in the center raised the decibel level, until by the twentieth step the sound was back in full force. Vague discomfort faded, and Jason stood examining the object in the center of the clearing.

It stood in the exact center of a perfect circle cut in the vegetation. Vines, trees, and undergrowth abruptly gave way to waving Kentucky bluegrass, itself an oddity in the rainforest. The obelisk stood in the center of the tranquil sea, its alabaster body covered in complex carvings and symbols. The flow of the symbols tugged at Jason, hinting at a meaning beyond his grasp – a word on the tip of his tongue just begging to be heard. Jason moved closer to the obelisk, examining the carvings. Smooth lines festooned the surface, showing no evidence of tool work common among ancient relics in the area. The sunlight reflecting off the surface was unbroken, marred by neither crease nor gouge. The craftsmanship rivaled the greatest of modern fabrication techniques, the perfection bespeaking exquisite care and skill on the part of the craftsman.

Jason reached a tentative hand out to the object. His fingers lightly brushed the surface before he jerked them back, shaking feeling back into them. His arm hairs stood on end, static electricity coursing through him as he reached forward again. This time, there was no shock – his fingers connected solidly with the object. What appeared smooth at a glance felt pebbled as he ran his finger down the side, exploring the texture. His wandering finger found one of the designs – an odd spiral that folded back on itself three times. He began to idly trace the design, his finger moving of its own volition along the curves of the engraving.

The sounds surrounding him began to die out again, but this time a low pervasive hum began to rise in their place. Jason’s eyes widened at the change, but his finger continued to walk the curved path, increasing in speed with the volume of the basso rumble. It came from everywhere at once, shaking Jason’s bones, causing his teeth to chatter uncontrollably, but his finger continued to push onward. His arms visibly shook with effort as he tried to pull away, but he was unable to stop the progression.

At the halfway point in the design the hum became a high-pitched whine. The ear-piercing shriek appeared out of nowhere, starting as abruptly as the basso rumble had stopped. The greenery of the clearing faded as his finger moved, occluded by a white glow originating from the obelisk itself. The intensity grew as he moved down the spiral, becoming blinding while still allowing perfect sight. The world faded into a white light, the obelisk only making itself known through the pebbled texture under Jason’s finger.

Jason’s finger finished its traversal, and everything stopped at once. All the jungle sounds, the whine, the light – all ceased to exist. He blinked his eyes, seeing the obelisk as an after-image against his eyelids in the green and purple of photo-negatives. He opened his eyes to look around, but was met with only darkness. There was no breeze, no odors, no light, no sound – the entire world had ceased to exist. Time dilated as Jason stood in the nothingness. His finger hadn’t moved, but he could no longer feel the obelisk. Minutes passed like seconds, and seconds passed like hours. With no feedback, no frame of reference, an eternity whipped by in an eye blink.

A sudden buzzing caught Jason’s ear. There was a bright flash, and then a rising glow. Bars of light, floating in empty space as they increased in illumination, pierced the blackness. After a few moments details appeared, the soft white light reflecting off matte gray as his surroundings came into focus. Jason blinked a few times, clearing the afterimages as his eyes adjusted to the new light. The obelisk was gone, as was the grass. Unmarked gray lined the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room he found himself in, broken only by the bars of light along the floor of the chamber.

Realizing he was still holding his finger out he snatched it back to his side. He checked the finger, but saw no damage imparted by the strange object. His breathing quickened as he looked around, all signs of the world he knew gone. Jason moved about the room, running his fingers along the unbroken walls, but the only variation in the perfect octagonal enclosure was the light emerging from the floor.

“IDENTIFICATION.”

Jason jumped at the sudden sound. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, deafening, permeating his very being. He clapped hands over his ears in shock, but the sound had left before he completed the maneuver. The silence rang in his ears, stretching as no further information came. Jason swallowed, and spoke to the room.

“Hello?”

His voice sounded tentative, the sound small in the acoustically dead space. He waited for a response, but none came. He had just opened his mouth to try again when the voice invaded his body once more.

“IDENTIFICATION INVALID. RESTATE.”

“I, uh, I don’t have any…” Jason’s voice trailed off as he stumbled over the words. “Who… who are you?”

Once again the silence stretched out, and Jason stood silently. After another pause, the booming voice returned.

“IDENTIFICATION INVALID. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED. ASSISTANCE REQUESTED. PLEASE STAND BY.”

The words hit him with a solid force, the meaning both plain and confusing. Jason looked around at the walls, seeing neither speaker nor microphone.

“Uh hey, what’s going on here?” His voice had a bit more strength behind it, but the complete lack of ambient noise made it continue to sound thin. “Where am I? Who are you?”

He waited expectantly, but no reply came. After several minutes, he began to pace the room. He ran his hand along the gray walls, but found nothing. Each edge of the octagon appeared to be six paces long. He bent down to examine the light source, but could detect neither power connection nor method of generation. He stood up and struck at the wall, balled fist bouncing harmlessly off the hard material. He shook his hand and cursed, checking the bones tenderly but finding no damage. After another moment, he returned to the center of the room and sat down.

“Who are you?”

The voice startled Jason, and he turned around to look at the source. A dark figure stood outlined in the center of one of the walls, bathed from behind in bright light. The voice was feminine, but the shape could have been anything – amorphous, columnar, indiscernible. Jason squinted, trying to discern details.

The figure shifted slightly. “Can you understand me?”

Jason nodded. “Yes, I can.”

“Good.” The figure stepped into the room, revealing a woman’s head over flowing purple and maroon robes. The robes obscured the woman’s figure, the lack of lines and smooth complexion of her face bespeaking youthful vigor. “Who are you?”

Jason stared at the woman. “I’m, uh, Jason MacIntyre.”

The woman frowned. “I don’t know of anyone by that name authorized to use this facility.”

“Facility?”

The woman ignored his question. “How did you get here, Jason MacIntyre?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. I found this carved pillar in a forest clearing, and now here I am.”

“Hmm.” The woman cocked her head, as though listening to something, then abruptly focused on Jason again. “Please come with me, Jason MacIntyre.”

“What? Where are we going?” The woman either ignored him or didn’t hear him as she turned and stepped back into the light. After a moment’s indecision, Jason got to his feet and followed her. She walked confidently down the brightly-lit corridor, white and featureless walls glowing with a daytime intensity. Jason caught up to the woman. “Excuse me, miss. Where are we?”

“All will be made clear soon enough, Jason MacIntyre.” The woman’s voice lacked inflection and emotion, sounding as mechanical as an electronic answering service. Jason shrugged and continued to follow the woman.

The hallway abruptly ended, leaving the pair standing in a corner. As Jason opened his mouth to ask another question, the woman raised a hand against the wall before them. A circle flashed green around the woman’s hand and the wall simply faded, revealing a small room beyond. Along the far wall was a man sitting at a desk, staring into space. The desk was made of some featureless gray material, similar to the walls in the earlier octagonal room. The woman gestured, and Jason stepped across the threshold. He turned to look at the woman for instruction, but the wall had already reappeared behind him. Jason stepped forward, putting a hand to the wall in wonder, feeling nothing but solid material beneath his hands.

“It won’t work for you, at least not yet.” Jason turned to look at the man behind the desk, who had lost his unfocused look as he eyed Jason appraisingly. He indicated a small chair opposite the desk. “Please have a seat, Mr. MacIntyre.”

Jason moved over to the chair, examining it suspiciously. He reached out a hesitant hand, but felt nothing out of the ordinary. After a moment’s hesitation, he sat down and looked at the man across the desk. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Frank.” The man smiled. “And you are Jason MacIntrye.” Jason nodded. “I bet you’re wondering what’s going on.”

“You could say that again.”

“Well, unfortunately I wish I could tell you that. Your arrival has caused a lot of concern.”

“Arrival?” Jason looked confused.

Frank nodded. “The octagonal room – that’s our arrival area. It’s been closed off for nearly twenty years. I’m guessing some technician forgot to disconnect the power.”

Jason stared blankly. “Ok, wait. What’s going on here?”

“This is going to be a bit hard to take.” Frank sighed. “Mr. MacIntyre, you’ve travelled approximately six hundred years into your future.”

“Wait. What?”

“The device you found was one of our early experiments in time travel. By activating it, you activated a recall beam that pulled you from your time into ours.”

“Time travel? Recall beam? All of that’s impossible!”

Frank chuckled. “I’m sure it seems that way to you, but I assure you it is both possible and feasible.”

“But what about Einstein, and all that relativity stuff?”

“Ideas of science evolve, Mr. MacIntyre. A few thousand years ago, people were convinced that Aristotle’s four elements were all that composed the cosmos. Not all that long before your time, people were convinced that it was bad blood that caused disease. Let’s just say our understanding of physics has changed in the intervening time.”

Jason exhaled deeply. “Huh. So, six hundred years?”

Frank nodded. “Give or take.”

“Where am I, then?”

“You are in a small research facility near what you would have known as Des Moines, Iowa.”

“Would have known? Was there some sort of massive war or something?”

Frank chuckled. “Several, actually, but really we’ve simply evolved past our need for physical delimiters of space.”

“Physical delimiters?”

“Locale designations, addresses, and so on. Those hold very little meaning these days.”

“So how do you know where you are?”

Frank shrugged. “Call it something like GPS. With the advent of quantum teleportation, we simply refer to everything by coordinates. It’s easier and produces a more accurate description of location.”

Jason frowned. “Teleportation? Like Star Trek?”

“Star Trek?”

“Never mind.” Jason looked around at the room, then back at Frank. “Seems kind of sparse. Does no one decorate in the future?”

Frank chuckled. “Oh we do. We just have different ways of seeing it.”

“Different ways?”

“For lack of a better way to put it, every person has a computer built into their brain that constantly affects what they see.”

“Computer built….”

Frank waved a hand. “Look, we could spend years talking about the things you’ve missed. But in the end, right now we have two questions to focus on.”

Jason cocked his head. “And those are?”

“How did you get here, and how in the hell will we ever get you back.”

Writing Prompt - First Sentence 4

The briefcase was heavy in his hand and the gun tucked into his waistband felt awkward. He moved quickly down the street, walking briskly but trying hard to appear as if nothing was amiss. Only the sweat on his forehead spoke to the tension he felt, the beads of moisture born of the intense adrenaline rush boiling inside of him. He concentrated, forcing himself to appear relaxed and only barely managing the feat.

The faint jingle of the briefcase rose with each awkward step, and each time he was certain a passerby had heard, and that they knew. They knew what he’d done, what he’d taken with the gun leaning awkwardly out of his blue jeans. Any moment he expected to hear the shouts, the pounding feet of pursuit, the sirens of the inevitable as he was hunted down, hauled in, harangued and hanged.

He closed his eyes to calm himself, but the silent scream of the clerk appeared to torture him immediately. He stumbled, earning a loud jingle from the briefcase as a couple passerby gave him an odd look. Pausing, he adjusted his shirt before continuing with the same forcibly-restrained gait. The jingling grew louder in his mind as he neared his destination, placing his hand on the door handle. He pulled, and had a moment of panic when the door held fast before he realized that he had not yet unlocked it. He pulled out his key with shaking hands and inserted it into the lock on the fifth try, turning it quickly and pulling at the door. He ducked inside and sprinted up the stairs, suddenly safe from the prying eyes of the outside world.

He rounded a corner on the third floor landing and, after some more fumbling, slammed the apartment door shut behind him. With a heavy sigh he leaned back against the shut portal, sliding down the varnished wooden surface until he hit the ground with a thump, legs splayed out carelessly in front of himself. He’d done it! He’d gotten away with it! He listened closely but heard no sirens, no telltale pounding of feet, or angry demands to search the premises.

Part one done, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He took another deep breath, quieting his quivering body a bit further, and cleared his throat. Would they answer? What would happen now? How was he supposed to guarantee his safety? These questions haunting his mind, he dialed the number he had been given and put the receiver to his ear. He heard the click on the other end of the line, and spoke into the silence.

“It’s done. Now give me back my son.”

Writing Prompt - First Sentence 3

The classroom was silent as the students worked on the test. That is, until Amber came crashing through the door.

“They’ve all left! All of them!”

She looked around frantically, trying to connect her harried gaze with a single confused classmate, but seeing nothing but blank stares she threw her hands up and ran back out into the hallway. Muffled shouts came in through the closed door, the same voice stringently screaming garbled words in the same meter, the same silence answering. After a minute or so the voice became inaudible as Amber presumably moved down the hallway out of earshot. The students looked at each other in confusion, but after a few more moments of silence they returned to their tests.

Jimmy sighed, trying to put his thoughts back on the problem at hand. Mr. Mooney will kill us if we get out of our desks. He started reading about a train leaving Cleveland at 6 PM, but his thoughts kept wandering back to Amber’s outburst. What does she mean, anyway. They’ve all left? Isn’t that what happens during final exams? Jimmy frowned in thought before angrily dismissing the distraction. Bah, they’re on break, and they’ll be back with their red markers if this test isn’t finished by then.

The time passed quietly, and Jimmy found himself engrossed in his test once again. Coming to the last of the five pages of word problems, he hurriedly scrawled down his answers. Time must be getting short – it feels like it’s been too long already! He finished scribbling the answer to the last problem, then put his pencil down and looked up with a sigh of relief. No Mr. Mooney, must have just made it! He looked around, and saw a few of his classmates looking back at him, confusion on their faces. He looked confused as well, up until he saw the clock and the reason for their confusion registered. 12:37?! Class ended 12 minutes ago! Where was the bell? Jimmy cautiously stood up from his desk.

“Sit down! He could be back any moment!”

The hurried whisper came from Mike, his best friend, sitting next to him.

“He’s twelve minutes late already,” Jimmy whispered back.

Mike nodded. “Exactly my point! He’s going to be pissed when he gets back as it is!”

Jimmy started to sit back down before a thought struck him. “When has he ever been late before?”

Mike started to answer, but stopped as the same thought struck him. He shook himself after a moment of silence. “So what do you think we should do.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Hell if I know, but I’m gonna take a look.”

Jimmy made his way across the room, and a few of the more curious students rose to follow him as he peered out into the hallway. Absolute silence. What’s going on here? He stepped into the empty corridor and looked both directions. It was completely empty – Amber had apparently moved on. He stepped out into the hallway and walked slowly, peering into the other classrooms as he passed. Each narrow window presented the same scene – students slowly looking up from their desks, glancing about curiously.

What had started as a trickle behind Jimmy became a flood as his truancy was noticed. He headed towards the front entrance, the quiet halls devoid of monitors, guards, teachers, administrators – really any leadership whatsoever., just unsupervised students, looking confused and concerned as one. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he neared the front hall of the building. What if Amber was telling the truth? What if they really were gone?

Jimmy came to a halt in front of the heavy doors leading outside, hundreds of footsteps clattering to a stop behind him. The idle chatter and whispering that had filled the throng fell silent, and the students stood still. Expectant. Curious. What should I do, Jimmy mused, if I leave the school grounds I could be in serious trouble. But if I don’t, then I’ll never know what’s going on. He waffled back and forth for a moment before placing his hand on the doorknob. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, he stepped into the bright afternoon light.

He stepped onto the front porch of the school, and nearly walked right into Amber. She had sat down at the top of the steps leading towards the street, arms wrapped about her knees as she gently rocked back and forth. He could hear her quietly whispering as she moved.

“All gone. All gone. All gone.”

He was about to kneel down and check on her when a thought struck him. Where are all the sounds? This close to the city, you could count on traffic whipping by every day. Rarely fifteen minutes would go by without the silence being broken by a horn, or a siren, or a screech of tires, but the only sound Jimmy could hear was the quiet whispering of Amber. Even the wind seemed silent. The streets lie empty, disused, passing before silent hulking homes. The finest houses in the county, with their tree-lined streets, lay silent. No lawnmowers, no children at play, no comings and goings from the busy adults who populated their world.

Jimmy jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Mike staring at the scene in wonder. Mike cleared his throat, swallowing repeatedly before speaking in a breaking voice.

“What, uh, do we do?”

Jimmy opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a word in Amber jumped up and screamed.

“I’m going home! They can’t all be gone! I’ll find them!”

With a sob she burst to her feet and dashed off down the sidewalk. Jimmy had a hand out, as if reaching to stop her, but let it fall without thinking. He turned back to Mike.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe we should head home, too.”

“No way,” a voice in the back piped up. “I ain’t getting’ detention for this crap.”

“Me neither,” a girl agreed.

“But there’s no one here to give detention!” A third voice, somewhat shrill, arose to Jimmy’s left.

Jimmy thought for a moment before turning to a nearby student. “Hey Carl, you live near here, right?”

A mousy-looking kid stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, around the corner. Why?”

“Do any of your parents stay home during the day?”

“Yeah, my dad works from home.”

Jimmy looked around at the gathered throng. “Ok, so let’s send Carl home to see if he can get his father to come help us. In the meantime, let’s wait here in case the teachers come back.”

Jimmy didn’t know if he was more surprised that Carl nodded assent, or that there were no dissenting voices from the crowd. He turned back to Carl. “Head on home, and if your father is there bring him back with you.”

Carl nodded. “And what if he isn’t?”

Jimmy shrugged. “We’ll have to deal with that when it happens.”

Carl nodded again, and took off into the distance. Jimmy watched him go, wondering what he would find.

Writing Prompt - First Sentence 2

(continuing on the writing prompts kick. The sentence given as a prompt is in bold below)

It was the perfect guy’s night out until she showed up. She marched directly for our table, her displeasure evident in her forceful stride. I sighed heavily and stood. With a brief apology to my friends I stepped forwards into the coming storm, diverting her to a nearby wall and a semblance of privacy.

As she came to a halt, her arms snapped into an angry fold on her chest. “So this is why you couldn’t go out with me tonight?” She bit off the words as she spoke, the syllabus cracking like pebbles thrown against a wall.

“Look, Ashley…”

“Don’t you ‘Look, Ashley’ me!” An arm shut out to mirror her interruption physically. “What’s the problem? Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“Of course not…”

“Well then what’s the problem?”

I sighed as I looked at her, arms crossed beneath ample breasts, toe tapping rapidly at the end of her long and shapely legs. “Ashley, I turned you down because of exactly what you’re doing right now.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Exactly what I’m doing. You mean catching you out in your bullshit.”

“No, I mean your attitude.”

“My attitude.”

“Yeah. Look,” I took a deep breath before continuing. “You are beautiful, and any guy would be lucky to have you. But you’re too forceful.”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed at this. “What the hell do you mean, ‘forceful’?”

I sighed. “You push too hard. We’ve only spoken twice-“

“Three times!” She interrupted.

I waved my hand absently at the interruption. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. We’ve talked three times. You asked me out, I said no, and now you’re here trying to… I don’t know. What is your end goal here?”

“My end goal?”

“Yeah, your end goal. What are you trying to accomplish?”

Ashley paused for a moment, before glaring at me again. “I’m trying to show you what an asshole you are!”

“And that’s exactly what I’m talking about. I turned you down, so I must be an asshole.”

“Damn straight!”

“Ashley…” I paused, at a loss for how to continue. “Listen. How exactly am I being an asshole?”

She pointed an accusing finger at me. “You lied to me!”

“Oh, I did? How exactly did I lie?”

She scoffed and gestured at the room around her. “You going to tell me that this place, that those friends of yours over there –“ she gestured at my three friends, who were alternately torn between staring intently into their mugs and watching with brazen smiles “-have more to offer than I do?”

I shrugged. “Well, since you want to put it that way, yes they do.”

“Bullshit. Name three things they have that I don’t.”

I was starting to get pissed at this point, but did my best to maintain my reasonable tone. “Well, for one, they aren’t so full of themselves because of how they look.”

“No shit. I bet they’re jealous of you for even being able to talk to me.”

“That’s another one,” I continued. “They’re not constantly throwing their perceived superiority in my face.”

“Perceived?!”

“That’s right. Looks aren’t everything, Ashley.”

“You know what?” She put a finger under my chin, and leaned forwards, her eyes alight with indignation. “I don’t even give a shit about the third one. Go back to your pals over there, faggot. I’m going to go find a real man, one who appreciates me for what I offer.”

I shrugged. “Do what you need to do, I guess.”

She scoffed again before pivoting on a heel and storming off. I exhaled, heading slowly back to the table before slumping into my chair. I looked over at the guy to my left, staring intently into his beer. “You know, John, your sister’s kind of a bitch.”

The other two guys laughed while leaned back, taking a healthy swig of my beer. I felt my pocket buzz, but chose not to check it. I only hoped John had bought the act.

Writing Prompts - First Sentence 1

(I've been looking for some writing prompts I can use to fill time on the train between work and teaching, and ended up purchasing this ebook from Amazon.com. It's broken into 18 chapters or so, and claims to have 1,001 writing prompts. I figured it'd be a worthwhile exercise to build my scene writing skills, so here's the first - I hope you all enjoy it. This story comes from a section where the first sentence is provided for you - the first sentence is in bold below.)

When her cell phone rang she groaned, because she couldn’t believe that he was calling her again. She stared at the phone, torn between answering it and ignoring it completely, while the strains of her ringtone – “You’re the Best” by Joe Esposito – filled the apartment.  With a sigh, she thumbed the “accept” button and put the phone to her ear.

“Yeah, Joe, what is it? No, you didn’t leave your toothbrush here. I can be so certain because it was the last thing I put into the box before I left it on the porch. Of course I remember, because I knew that would be the thing you would ask about. I’m not being unreasonable. Well, what did you expect? Right, understanding for the man who slept with my sister. Uh huh. Right. Yeah, I’m sure you had absolutely no say in the matter. No, stop – you know what? I’m done with this. I’m hanging up. Don’t call me again.”

She ended the call and, in a fit of anger, threw the device across the room. It bounced off the carpet a couple times before landing on the other wall, leaning at an obtuse angle against the white-painted molding. It took a Herculean effort to not look up at the empty rectangles and ovals, the negative space in the smoke-laden paint signifying the destruction of happy memories. Seven years of happiness, ruined within a week. Sure they had fought sometimes, and lately they’d been going through a dry spell, but how could he do that to her? With the one person he knew would hurt her the most?

She sighed and poured herself another glass of wine, absent-mindedly swirling it in the glass as she wallowed. It was bad enough that she had put up with his smoking for so long. Now she was going to have to paint the walls to get rid of the evidence of a life gone wrong. Figures that even after he was gone, the bastard was still making work for her.

She took a few deep breaths, then a healthy sip of wine. As she swallowed she heard her phone again, the vibration of the ringer amplified by its position against the wall. She glared at the phone, and decided that she was done pandering. She was done dealing with the asshole that had never showed her consideration. She sipped her wine and watched the phone until it stopped flashing, falling quiet. She was done with that part of her life.