Monday, March 14, 2011
Writing Prompt #5 - Blam!
Remember, you can write as little or as much as you'd like, and if you want, you can post your prompt right here. **All work is under copyright of its authors**
Here we go...
Your character(s) hears what sounds like a gunshot and hunkers down....
Jeremy heard the shot and knelt to the floor, shielding his head with his arms.
"What are you doing down there?" Megan asked.
He lifted his head, scanning the crowd around him for signs of the shooter. Nothing seemed out of place. Nobody looked incredibly suspicious. At this level, he could see the silver anklet that Megan wore just above the straps of her heels, a charm in the shape of a flying crane dangling from it.
Standing up, Jeremy checked his white shirt and tuxedo jacket, verifying he hadn't been hit. "I..."
Megan giggled, sipping from her wine glass. "You're being silly. It was a wine bottle being uncorked, not a gunshot." She wrapped her arm around his neck and looked directly into his eyes. "Now, since it's just about midnight, I think we need to discuss this kiss that I want when the clock strikes twelve."
As beautiful as Megan was - her dazzling green gown brought out a glimmer in her eyes that Jeremy had a hard time resisting - he had no desire to kiss her. New Year's Eve might have been a decent excuse for her to request such a trivial thing, but he wasn't prepared to give in. Not with a contract out on his life.
Another gunshot. Instead of flinching, Jeremy simply scanned the room again.
Megan touched her gentle hand to his face. When she did so, the large silver bangles on her wrist slid down her arm. "You really need to relax."
"He's been shot!"
To his left, Jeremy watched as a man with gray hair crumpled to the floor, a circle of blood seeping through his white shirt. Megan dropped her wine glass as screams and shouts erupted through the ballroom.
Scanning through the crowd, Jeremy searched for the shooter. Panic filled the dance floor as the hordes of people pushed and shoved their way out of the double doors into the lobby of the hotel.
Megan grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the exit. But he pulled out of her grip and stood in the middle of the dance floor, searching, his eyes taking in every small detail - the overturned tables, the scattered chairs, the stage and the microphone, the piano and the tip jar. Nothing seemed out of place. Everyone was running for the exit or helping those who were lingering behind to help the man who had been shot.
He was dead. There was nothing Jeremy - or anybody else - could do for him now.
He felt the pull of Megan's grip on his arm again, this time reluctantly going with her as they made their way out of the ballroom.