I'd written what I thought was a pretty good 100 word story for this week's weekly challenge.
I recorded it, edited in a couple of sound effects (from here), and sent the email to Laurence. I had the text of my story, the ides for the next topic, the link to my blog. I had everything in there...
...but the recording.
Yea, I'm just smart like that.
I sent the recording to Laurence on Saturday after I got an email, a direct message on Twitter, and goodness knows what else from him about it.
Instead of editing it into the challenge, he posted it on it's own today. (Recording here).
Here's the text:
My wife always said that I sleepwalk, but I didn't believe her... until now.
While on vacation in Turkey recently, I pushed a woman over a bridge while sleepwalking.
My lawyer tried to get me out of it, unsuccessfully.
I was sentenced to thirty-five years in a prison on the outskirts of Istanbul for my crime.
I don't sleepwalk anymore. Hell, I barely sleep. I live my days in constant fear that my cellmate, Big Willy, will make me bend over for another "special moment." I wish I were dead.
Why couldn't I have just sleepwalked off of that bridge?
Crossposted to Through our eyes
Wow. That was pretty dark.
I like dark.
Post a Comment