Author's Note
Disclaimer: Characters not mine, although one or two might be from the minds of my peers. The majority of the writing isn't my own, either. All credit goes to its respective owners.
We have this weekly assignment in Honors English where we write about a specific topic for fifteen minutes; sometimes assigned to us, sometimes of our own choosing. Today was one of our Sacred Writing Time (SWT) days; the topic a spooky Halloween story and naturally I went with the DC approach. But not half way into my introduction paragraph the timer beeped and we were instructed to pass our papers to the left, where our stories would be continued by the student in that seat. I was a little hesitant at first, wanting to print the developing story in my head under my first paragraph myself, but I obliged and skimmed through the paper I was handed to see where I could take it. We switched papers four times before I got my original back. If the story hadn't been finished, we were supposed to sum up the ending. This is what my classmates and I came up with.
My parts are in italics, changes in authors bold vs. regular.
Stress Dreams
Deep within Wane manor, Alfred was busy brewing hot chocolate. The windows were tinted with transparent condensation, the sky shielded by a thick covering of clouds. As snow fell in heaps onto the strictly manicured lawn, an owl's screech pierced through the night. Alfred heaved the tray of chocolate into the wall at the sudden sound. At the same time, he had thought he'd heard footsteps at the top of the stairs. He walked slowly up the wooden creaking stairs, step by step. He walked down the hallway, alert and conscious. Was there really something up here? No, it must have been his imagination.
As soon as he decided, he went back down the stairs. Here goes another tray of a chocolate treat, he thought. As he began stirringhe heard a creak on the stairs, he dropped the spoon, startled, and this time before he went to investigate he took a knife.
He rounded the corner and faster than was thought possible he threw it into Judge Hayword's chest and he collapsed on the spot. Alfred then proceeded up the stairs to Mrs. Haywords room where he could hear the news:
"Another killing on 2nd Street. The "Slasher", as officials are now calling him, is notorious and will not stop at anything. Two nights ago, two little girls were walking down a street (I don't understand this story). Out of nowhere the hash-pinging, dong-clinging slasher appeared with a knife. He sliced their throats. Police came to the rescue but were too late. Another killing on 2nd street. Two weeks later the police officer had a nightmare, where he was stabbed only to wake up to find it was true. (This wasn't my favorite writer).
Alfred slipped quietly into Mrs. Hayward's room and without delay sliced off her head. He walked through the room and picked up any piece of computer he could find.
Master Bruce would have need for these, he thought with a smile as he remembered his his real master. Remembered the real reason he was here-
"I have a job for you."
Alfred hopped down the stairs and out the front door.
"Destroy anyone-"
He started his car.
"-and anything-"
Alfred sped towards the near docks.
"-that could reveal me."
He pressed the foot on the petal to the floor.
"Of course, Master," he whispered and plunged into the deep water.
Alfred gasped for breath as he sat upright in his own bed, disgraced with perspiration and making this awful wheezing sound. He must have had another stress dream; with Bruce out every night this week from midnight to dawn, coming home almost every one with a new gash or purple bruise. He must remember to lecture Bruce on the amount of strain it put on him, worrying all night while he was out protecting a city with an ever growing underworld.
Maybe I'll find time soon to write my original plot.
Comments on what you thought?