Creating a story

So first when I am thinking of writing a short story, I look around me and come up with five quick words- shawl, red, cat, dirt, and mop. This is a good practice to get the creative juices to flow. I like these quick stories that make me jump into place I don’t normally think about.

Here it goes:

Sheryl nibbled on her fingernails, a coffee cup in one hand and her mop glaring at her from the corner of the room. Yes, most witches had a broom. She had a mop that liked to stick its ends into dirty water and spread it all over the floor. Why she was given a mop instead of a broom she didn’t know.

The mop didn’t like to clean and it certainly didn’t like to give her a ride to her council meeting. Her cat, vocal in all ways especially when she was sing cat opera, had told her that feet were an acceptable form of transportation. And if she wanted her cat to come with her, she would have to carry the cat on her shoulders.

The cat was not the kind that liked to sit quietly on her shoulders. Oh no, the cat wanted to get on top of her red hair and pull it with he claws. At this point she was not going to go anywhere.

Plus she couldn’t call for help. The last time she tried to use a cell phone it had come alive and bit her cheek. Then the battery died and she could never get it to cooperate again. It might have been that last spell. Her phone now housed an imp. But when there was one imp there was probably twenty more.

The splashing of the mop, the advice of the cat, and the yelling of the imp phone gave her a monstrous headache. She barely heard the knock at the door.

“What next?” she thought.

Of course, it was a used vacuum salesman. She hadn’t seen on of them since she was a girl. “I can trade that mop and phone for a brand new vaccuum cleaner. It doesn’t need a filter and it rides smooth.”

She barely saw the glint of horns on the salesman’s head or the red glint in his eye.

“Is it quiet?”

“Oh yes,” the salesman said. “And it will clean all of the dirt in your life.”

She didn’t given it another thought. She handed over the mop, the phone, and threw in the cat for good measure.

“You’ll be sorry,” the cat yelled at her as the cat clung to the shoulders of the salesman.

“I doubt it.” She closed the door and decided to take a nap instead of going to the council meeting. The quiet was lovely.

______________

And that is how I write a quick story. It only takes a couple of words and a character that wants to talk to you.

And yes— I am strange.

Maybe next week I’ll show you another writing exercise.

Cyn Bagley