Sharon M. Wilson, Class of '99

(This was a story written in the Intro. Creative Writing course when the assignment was to produce a story with each sentence starting with consecutive letters of the alphabet from A to Z.)

As I crossed the noiseless street, my eyes strained in the darkness of the new moon. Between each lamp post the emptiness of night surrounded me like a loosely crocheted blanket. Continuing along the sidewalk, my sneakers soaked from the endless puddles below me, I spotted a dim light emerging from one of the second floor windows several feet ahead of me. Distances between the buildings were claustrophobic, so I quickly stood below a heavily curtained window which glowed with what appeared to be candlelight. Even as I entered the building, I had a feeling that curiosity wasn't my only guide.

Fingers leaped across the walls as I groped my way down a narrow hall to a single flight of wooden stairs. Gray carpet padded my wet shoes and absorbed the sound of my footsteps on the creaky wood. Holding back my heightened nervousness and rising fear, I raised my shaking right hand as I reached the door at the top of the steps. It fell slightly ajar when my knuckle touched the green, peeling paint under the small peephole. Just as I unleashed my curious eyes to the crack in the door, I noticed my heart pounding like the beating of native drums. Killing the silence around me, my heart felt heavy in my chest while I cautiously pushed the door open and stepped into a small, dimly lit living area.

Loosing the fear which had coursed through my veins earlier, anticipation overpowered me until my eyes darted from object to object nervously looking for something... or someone. My mind swarmed with thoughts of him as I stood where he probably had stood plenty of times before. Never had I felt so scared, but at the same time so exhilarated.

Over near the window wax dripped unevenly from several dying candles; the flickering light made the walls appear alive with different dancing shapes.

Protruding from underneath what seemed to be the bedroom door to the left crawled another faint light. Quietly I tiptoed towards the tiny beacon and leaned the right side of my face on the cold wood floor. Realizing that I could see nothing from my position on the dusty floor, I lifted myself and stood softly caressing the door before me with my icy fingers. Suddenly I heard footsteps from within growing louder with the passing seconds. Trying to make my way out of the room, I quickly looked for a place to hide. Until now I was prepared to do anything just to talk with him again, but my confidence left me faster than I could blink.

"Vicki, is that you?" a breathy, childlike man's voice said from behind the door.

"Well... no, it's... " I said, my voice trembling from my rapid heartbeats. X-rays taken at that moment would have shown my heart bursting into the surrounding organs and filling me with a red fear.

"Your money's on the table," he said with no hint of emotion as if he hadn't even heard me speak.

Zombie-like I stared down at the one hundred dollar bill, my heart shattered into microscopic fragments which ripped my soul apart... but I still had to see him again.

(This was a story written in the Intro. Creative Writing course when the assignment was to produce a story with each sentence starting with consecutive letters of the alphabet from A to Z.)