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Spilt Coffee and a Dead Dog

Writing Rambles #7

I still don‘t think I know the end of this prompt. I‘ve always thought it would be fun for others to say what they picture, so if you have any ideas, leave a comment!

As always, if you want to join the fun, write your own story off of the prompt before you read mine and post it in the fireside room! I’d love to read it!

Prompt: The streets had never been more crowded...

Spilt Coffee and a Dead Dog written June 15, 2019

The streets had never been more crowded.

Every hair on my body stood on end and I couldn’t understand why.

The crowds murmured amongst friends, family, and strangers close to them, but I was alone and I don’t take well to talking to strangers... Not anymore.

Still unable to see what all the commotion was about, no matter how hard I strained, I tried to gather information from eavesdropping on those around me. But everyone seemed just as confused as me, some excited and itching to know more, but some held a dread like fear in their eyes, no doubt, feeling the same strange trepidation that had tightened my chest the moment I stepped out of the corner cafe and spilt my fresh, steaming coffee all over myself and the sidewalk.

The crowds buzzed with useless guesses and pressed in at my sides. I grew tired of all the uncertainty and I’ve never liked to be packed in on all sides with the body heat and odor of people I’ve never met. Both my curiosity and irritation won out my fear and I shoved my way through the crowd, politely at first, but as I’ve said before, I don’t have patience for these sort of things.

I was so focused on just getting though, I nearly forgot about the ever growing, tingling feeling I felt in my spine and the tips of my fingers and toes as if some unnatural energy pulsed from the void-like window of another realm.

“Come on, Lady! Move it!” I was saying, not realizing I was very close now. “Someone’s gotta do something about this nonsense, and I don’t see any of you stepping up to the plate.”

She screamed something only partially intelligible at me.

“I don’t care if your dog just dropped dead; I need to get through!”

I don’t know if it was the anger in my eyes, or the fire in my tone, or if she just didn’t really want to stand in that spot anymore, but she moved after that, weeping as she went.

“Geese, Lady... You don’t have to cry about it,” I mumbled and when I turned away from her and back to the place she had left vacant, my blood went cold.

Suddenly I realized what I hadn’t fully noticed before— weepy lady’s white Pomeranian had actually just dropped dead, as had thousands around this one horrible sight.

And I was going to be next if I didn’t do something quick.

Thanks for reading!

Your Captain,



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