Each entry on this blog is 365 words long. They're also all by me, David. Every single one of them. And, if all goes to plan, there'll be one posted every day for a year.
“Whose house is this?”
It was gone midnight and Jeremy was with his closest friend, Ian, in the garden of somebody he didn’t know. There were no lights on; his pal had already snipped the wire that connected the garden’s sensor light to the mains electricity and so that didn’t illuminate the plot of land. The house, just set back from the road, had no lights on inside.
The animal disappeared in a cloud of red energy. The explosion engulfed the room. The rat had been sluggish and half asleep before the test had begun, after the anaesthetic, but now it was wide awake. And it was in pain.
As the blast began, it roared in anger, as the electrical charge hurt the creature. Its back bent over and it leapt up onto its hind legs, before emptying its lungs as loudly as it could in a horrifying squeal that was louder than the explosion.
John flicked the light on and stepped into the room. It was hot; far, far too hot for him. Far too hot for the time of year, actually: it wasn’t unheard of, but it was very uncomfortable. All he had done was walk to the shop, just ten minutes away, and then carry bag one single, solitary bag of shopping (containing a bottle of milk, a loaf of bread and one cardboard box of eggs). It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t even very strenuous exercise, given the amount of time he had taken over the journey. But his body had reacted like he had just set a world record time for a marathon.
The bus doors closed as Tim stepped onto the street. It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining and, despite it being early evening, it was still warm. People were milling about the city, going about their business and the man who had just stepped out of the public transport vehicle was about to set off home, with the weight of the world off his shoulders: He had three days off work.
The lift ground to a halt with a sudden thwack. The lights inside flickered off and then back on again and, collectively, there was a groan from everybody inside, as each realised what had happened. The large man in the corner, who looked slightly sweaty sighed. The woman carrying a file of papers sighed. The man with the bottle of water sighed. The lady with the cactus sighed. Everybody really didn’t need to be stuck in the lift that afternoon.
