Write Me Now is a game to help improve your creativity by practicing writing, which is the key of becoming a good writer. Test your imagination by writing a story that you didn’t choose. You will be given a beginning and an ending, and you get to fill the story with whatever plot you come up with to link them together. Share what you wrote here in the comments space below with other writers and see how they imagined the story to be. So open up your mind and let the stream of ideas gush into reality and let’s Write Me Now.
I entered the library to buy that stupid book about self-consciousness my shrink recommended me to read. That’s when I first saw him, talking to the librarian. And that’s when the earth just stopped spinning and stood still. He was tall, handsome, blue eyed, squared jaw, dark haired. Not to mention how fit he was. I stared for a while; actually I stared for a while longer than appropriate before I realized I should stray to another direction. I went to the self-development section making sure he was still in my peripheral eye sight. He left the librarian and head to the same section. My mouth went dry and I wanted to talk to him. By then he was right beside me, picking a book I know well ‘The road less traveled’. I seized the moment, because it was so unnerving to be physically that close to him. “It’s a good book,” I said, eyeing him suspiciously. Maybe it was the wrong move, maybe I should have picked the stupid book and ran back home. “You read it?” he said, smiling, and I melted. “Yes, if you are looking for a psychiatrist who is citing his experience, then it’s the right one,” I said, smiling back. He arched his brows and said, “well not specifically, but yes, why not? Thanks.” and that was it he was so curt and taciturn. He took the book and left; leaving me ridiculously curious about him and wanton. I didn’t want to tell my shrink about him because first, he would have attended to my stalking tendencies that he knew well of. Second, he knew to what extent I would have gone with those tendencies. Third, I didn’t trust myself, though my intentions were benign, I just wanted to know the guy. So it would have been better if I kept my mouth shut and moved on. But, who am I to kid myself, I am the daughter of a murderer and a pimp. I had been swept in this criminal life long ago, even if my father is resting in what I doubted a peaceful death and I was following up with a shrink after the police had by some miracle found me not guilty of anything. I am still who I am. My father used me to get to his marks by selling me for information. My mother died when I was 4 years old and I keep practicing the idea of how lucky she was not to live to see her husband and daughter like that.
To my utmost luck the pretty faced man dropped a business card from his hand while picking the book. To a normal person it should have been given to the security of the library, but to me it was a lead. I flipped the card and read a name, Cole Rommel, a senior partner at Ronald Vikky law firm. I put the card in my jacket pocket, bought the book and hurried home to my laptop to relish my old habit, stalking.
……Write Me Now……
I killed the love of my life, I killed Cole Rommel.