This is what I’m currently working on, these are the first couple sentences:
George DePaoli was clearly dying and it didn’t matter much, but it was taking longer than he’d thought. His final hours had dragged on through the night and into the next day and he only wished for one thing now, that Marcia would stop yelling in his ear.
Not the most brilliant opening lines, but the concept of the story opens up a lot to me in development of a small cast of characters and plot without relying upon a great deal of backstory and obviously, little future. The title of this piece so far is The Tunnel, but I’m not sure of that being the most effective means of time travel for my purposes, or that it is not too cliche and obvious because I mean to go beyond the normal perceptions of the process.
There is a plan of sorts in mind, snuck in by that editor that hides within a room deep in my brain and overrides some of the shenanigans that the free-er creative spirit employs, refusing to follow any mapping out of plots or setting goals and such mundane niceties as purpose.
I am excited by the possibilities. The only thing I know about the unknown is that it is.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology