Storytelling on Sundays

On Sundays, I'm usually not dealing with many crises. John is home and we man this ship together. He often makes it possible for me sleep a little later on Sundays. The girls entertain each other and require little intervention. I usually find some time for myself. I usually get something done. Dinner is often a joint venture. The whole day feels simultaneously lazy and productive.

Today was just like that. I slept until 7:15. The girls played Barbies all morning. I did a ton of decluttering and took another load to Goodwill. I surfed the web a little. John made dinner and headed the table while I worked.

It was a good day. And it felt like another good Sunday for fiction. Last week, I wrote a drabble. It was fun to play in that form and do some more thinking about my novel. Today, I thought I'd try the one-sentence story. You know, where you write an entire story in one sentence [obviously]. Another exercise in fiction, another place to play. [This one has nothing to do with my novel.]
        

Everyone who predicted Armageddon always imagined bang would initiate the end of things -- maybe atoms would split or worlds would collide -- but no one expected the soft click that meant game over.

       


It's fun. Want to try?