Creative Writing Exercise - Part Two

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If you've been following my blog, you know that I've taken on a challenge of sorts, a creative writing exercise to get me going again, as lately I've felt somewhat uninspired.

As you may or may not know, I asked followers to give me a name they like, a place and an activity with which I would write a short story.

My first installment was deemed a little cliché by some, so I will try to step out of my comfort zone and come up with something better for today... be sure to tell me what you think!

So my words are: Ryan (for a girl), Grand Bend and Playing Volleyball.

Here goes:  (As an aside, I'd like to say that as I type here goes, I still don't know what this story will be about.  It's 11:54 PM - Let's see what time it is when I'm done)

He'd met her last summer when she was walking down Main Street in Grand Bend with some of her friends.  He'd been sitting at a cafe reading the paper when he'd heard her laugh.  He'd looked up, not knowing where the melodic sound was coming from, when he'd spotted them.

They were all beautiful, he couldn't deny that.  Three of them, all tall, thin, and tan.  He could see that they were in town for the volleyball tournaments, all of them in identical short shorts and team shirts.

There'd been something about her though.  He hurried to pay his bills and hit the sidewalk just as the friends were passing by, charging straight into her, knocking her off her feet.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed.  "Are you OK?"
One of her friends had given him lip, helping her fallen friend to her feet.
"It's OK" she'd said, "it was an accident"
He'd smiled gratefully, offering another hand to help steady her.
"My name is James, and I'm a clutz." he'd said solemnly.
She'd laughed that beautiful laugh and said: "Well, James the clutz  I'm Ryan Johnson, also of the clutz clan."

Their connection had been instantaneous, and in that moment he'd thought for sure that they would be together forever.  They'd spent the week-end together, until it was time for her team to head home.  As she was leaving, he'd told her he loved her, and that he was going to move to Ottawa to be with her.

She'd been taken aback.  They barely knew each other she had said.  How could he love her?  She didn't want him to uproot his life to be with her, wasn't ready for commitment.  Refusing to take no for an answer, he'd started texting her the minute she'd gotten on the train.  Texts like "I miss you already" and "We were meant to be together" and so on.  When she wasn't responding, he'd gotten desperate "Please answer me, I'm begging you, I can't live without you" and "why won't you answer me, I am nothing without you."

At this point one of Ryan's friends had grabbed her phone and sent a nasty message: "We hung out one night on a beach, you held my hand, we kissed. End of story.  Now get some help loser, you're freaking crazy. LOL"

Ryan hadn't been happy that her friend had done that, but James had been starting to creep her out and it had stopped the incessant buzzing of her phone, so she hadn't really given it much thought since then.

James on the other hand, had not forgotten.  Since that day, he'd been choking on a seething rage that threatened to explode at any moment.  She had called him a crazy loser and laughed at him.  He really didn't like it when people called him crazy, but she'd really gone too far, laughing at him and calling him a loser.  How dare she treat him this way?  He would make her pay for hurting him.

He moved to Ottawa and found a listing for a Ryan Johnson in the dorm rooms at the Ottawa University, so he decided he would pay her a visit one afternoon.

Show her what crazy was really all about.

Hacking into the university's website so he could check her schedule and decide on the best time for his visit, he stopped in at the local hardware store to pick up some supplies. He purchased rope and duck tape, then headed to the dollar store for some candles and incense.  Slipping into her dorm room, he prepared himself for the attack.  He would grab her from behind when she would walk in, then tape her mouth shut and tie her to the bed before deciding what to do next with her.  That would all depend on whether she was good or not.

Hearing some noise at the door, he took his place and steeled himself, feeling for the hunting knife in his boots.  As soon as the person started to come in, he lunged out, but was surprised when a big burly hand grabbed his arm and James was suddenly flung over his intended victim's shoulder, landing with a loud thud on the ground.  Staring up at a big man, James stammered: "Who are you?!"

The man stuck an arm under his throat to keep him pinned down.  "WHO AM I?!?  I'm Ryan freaking Johnson and this is MY dorm room!!! Who the hell are you???"

James never answered him though.  He only closed his eyes as he realized his mistake.  How could he not have checked to make sure it was the right Ryan Johnson?  Now that bitch would go unpunished, and he'd be the laughing stock of the psych ward.

The End

So what do you think?

Do you do any writing exercises of your own?

Feel free to write your own version with the same words and send it to me via email felicia.may.stevenson@gmail.com if you'd like to guest post.  It would be interesting to read all different stories with the same words!

Much Love,
Felicia

PS: It is now 1:01 AM.  It took me exactly 67 minutes to write the story. (including a lot of hemming and awing and lots of deleting)