Flash Fiction Friday: In the Middle of the Night
Istiqlal (Independence), 12 Sharaf (Honor), 164 B.E. - Friday, January 11, 2008 about 11:05 AM PST
Aven woke up and reached for the clock on the nightstand. Midnight, she thought taking a deep breath, another night of no sleep. She got out of bed, walked down the hall pausing at the thermostat she moved the switch up until the heat came on and then continued to the kitchen. There she opened the refrigerator door and stared at the contents.
I guess I could heat up the leftover oatmeal, maybe that and some hot chocolate will put me to sleep, before she could take the oatmeal out of the fridge, the phone ring.
Who in the right mind would be calling me in the middle of the night? Going to the phone she picked up the receiver.
A voice on the other end said, "This is Ebrad, please give me a call as soon as possible," and then hung up the phone.
Who is Ebrad, putting the receiver back in its cradle she went into the living room. That's the last time I answer the phone at midnight, the next time the answering machine can pick it up.
In the living room, she turned on the computer and waited for it to boot. Then she dialed her Internet provider. Since I can't sleep, I may as well do a few reviews. She logged into her writing.com account, clicked on a featured title and began reading the poem. Then she loaded the review tool and began to write the review.
NOTE: This is not be the most exciting piece of flash fiction I have written recently, but it is a fictional account of I do in the middle of the night.
Daily Writing Practice Prompt for January 8, 2008:
It's what I do in the middle of the night.
Aven woke up and reached for the clock on the nightstand. Midnight, she thought taking a deep breath, another night of no sleep. She got out of bed, walked down the hall pausing at the thermostat she moved the switch up until the heat came on and then continued to the kitchen. There she opened the refrigerator door and stared at the contents.
I guess I could heat up the leftover oatmeal, maybe that and some hot chocolate will put me to sleep, before she could take the oatmeal out of the fridge, the phone ring.
Who in the right mind would be calling me in the middle of the night? Going to the phone she picked up the receiver.
A voice on the other end said, "This is Ebrad, please give me a call as soon as possible," and then hung up the phone.
Who is Ebrad, putting the receiver back in its cradle she went into the living room. That's the last time I answer the phone at midnight, the next time the answering machine can pick it up.
In the living room, she turned on the computer and waited for it to boot. Then she dialed her Internet provider. Since I can't sleep, I may as well do a few reviews. She logged into her writing.com account, clicked on a featured title and began reading the poem. Then she loaded the review tool and began to write the review.
NOTE: This is not be the most exciting piece of flash fiction I have written recently, but it is a fictional account of I do in the middle of the night.
Labels: flash fiction, Writing, writing exercise
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home