Authors Anonymous: Close Your Eyes

So I joined another writing group, this one is Authors Anonymous in Renton Wa. What appealed to me and the reason I joined this group is that the organizer has these weekly exercises called “writing prompts” where she gives us a statement and we have to write about it.

I was a high school athlete and we had practice everyday after school, later when I joined the military we we’re constantly drilling and retraining and I think this is why Authors Anonymous appeals to me…because basically this is the same thing.

It’s the practice after school and the re-certifying on the firing range. You cannot write a bestseller if you don’t write and to do anything well you need to practice. I’ve been asked how in the world is it that I don’t suffer from writers block.

Well for one if I find my self struggling through a scene, I just stop and write about something unrelated or I curl up with a really good book. For me it’s the quickest way to relax and let the scene unfold itself or come up with a new idea.

The 1st training exercise is called: Close Your Eyes. The coaches’ instructions are; close your eyes. Move your head in a random direction. Open your eyes. Write about the FIRST thing your eyes land on.

My story follows:

As I opened my eyes and looked out the window the 1st thing I saw was the dog. I live in a rambler but the view from my bedroom window is of a gorgeous two story whose upper floors peeks over my fense.

Normally it’s the Samoyed’s barking that wakes me but as I sat up slowly struggling away from the caressing embraces of sleep I noticed the dog’s eyes tracking my movements and in that very exact moment I became aware of was the deafing lack of sound.

I didn’t hear any cars, or any planes. As I tried to slow my breathing and escape the undeived attention of Panic I realizated that I couldn’t hear any birds or the children from the house two doors down who, at this time of day, should have been in the reckless pursuit of play and making enough gleeful noise to wake the dead.

I turned on the radio and there was nothing but stactic and on the TV, just snow. I walked outside barefoot and wearing clothes intended only for sleep and saw the door to my neighboor’s house wide open.

“Hello?” No one was there. I walked through the empty rooms of her house, I put on her robe and turned off the stove because the stew she was preparing was bubbling and beginning to scorth.

Back outside the only sound I heard was jarring…it was the dog. His barking and whining had reached a state of frenzy. He met me at the door as I opened it. He was jumping up and down on his hind legs so I picked him up and the dog seemed to melt into my arms grateful for the comforting touch.

How odd, the owner of this house had a landline telephone I didn’t think anyone still did. When I held it to my ear, it might as well have been a seashell because the only thing I could hear was the echo of the sea.

With the dog trembling in my arms I walked awhile down the middle of the street listening to the clamorous sounds of silence when I thought I heard the faintest whisper of a distant voice, I froze in mid stride with my foot still hovering inches from the ground. I did hear a voice, the dog heard it too, and the voice we heard was singing.

“…Made damn sure that Pilate washed his hands and sealed his fate…”

I slowly turned around and the breeze that blew across my face was so hot that my face started to blister. I closed my eyes against the searing heat and I gagged on the scent of sulfur.

“…I’m a man of wealth and taste…”

I knew the man signing was getting closer because the lyrics were clearer, louder. At first I couldn’t see anything and then decided that I didn’t want to. I turned to run but the person I wanted to run from was now ahead of me, just a silhouette of a figure approaching me in front of a low hanging sun.

“…Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name…”

I couldn’t move, I started to cry and the trembling dog that I was carrying began to growl.