A short piece incorporating three random words, written in 20 minutes.
by Marcus Jonathan Chapman
He walked ten blocks on the phone talking to her. Trying all the time to drag out the conversation because he knew how it would end. Then he walked ten blocks back, paying attention to each step, understanding that one foot in front of the other was the only way to get back up the hill, the only way to get back to his house.
She had captured his attention but, in his state, he wasn’t ready to reciprocate. Change as a concept was easy, he thought, but it only happens one step at a time. When they met, he hadn’t taken enough steps to be ready, to reach that change he pictured in his mind.
Along those ten blocks were houses with the various decorations of Halloween scattered on lawns and porches. The only spell that he ever knew happened not in a cauldron but in the eyes, hair, smile, laugh, and touch of a woman. What he might call love. The first and only evidence of witchcraft.
Now he would have to create in his mind the lines and shapes that would show him what his new life would be once his feet carried him up hill. How would he construct a home? On what foundation would it be built? How strong would it have to be to withstand the earthquakes, twisters, hurricanes and storms that would come? On what would that home be built?
And all of a sudden something inside cried out, “Baby don’t go. Baby don’t go. I tried so hard but I wasn’t ready.” He took a breath and shuttered. It was cold. He was alone. On what would he build his home to make sure it was standing if the spell never wore off?