I think I’ve mentioned here before that I’m in a local critique group. In addition to reviewing each other’s works in progress, we also take time periodically to stretch our writers’ wings, and engage in workshop activities. These workshops are short flash fiction assignments based on a given theme, and I’ve found that I really enjoy them. I get to explore new ideas without the time investment of a novel. And we vote on our favorites, the top few being posted on our blog as part of our “Friday Flash Fiction” series.
Two months ago our theme was “Apocalypse.” I was thrilled. I love post-apocalyptic fiction; not necessarily dystopian because hey, sometimes things work out for the best. But exploring how humans deal with the end, how they adapt, how they evolve is fascinating to me. Perhaps it goes back to my love of Biology, taxonomy, and Darwin.
And naturally, I had an idea floating around in my head. Years ago, we used to vacation in the Adirondacks, at a cabin owned by the family of my husband’s college friend. Secluded at the top of a mountain, we’d spend a week, drinking, eating, relaxing, sleeping, fishing, swimming. In the evenings, I’d sit by the campfire and look at the millions of stars, and think about how far away we were from civilization. I thought, anything could happen, and we’d never know. I mentioned this to my husband once, and he said, “Oh, like Red Dawn?”
A few years later, our friends were honeymooning in Cape Cod, after tourist season had peaked. They spent one particular idyllic day without TV, phones, or computer. They thought perhaps it was rather quiet that day, but thought little of it.
Until they made a phone call that evening and learned what they had missed. The date was September 11, 2001.
And in my mind, a story was born.
It was posted here in July, but I recently realized I never shared it here on my own blog. So, if you’re interested, follow the linky and I hope you enjoy. 🙂
Now, the reason for the post is that this weekend I’ll be back in the ADK. As it is now, I have no idea what happens at the end of my story above. No clue. Not even an idea of what happens next.
I’m curious to see what effect, if any, revisiting the scene of my inspiration has on my muse. Perhaps questions will be answered. Perhaps more will be raised. Perhaps nothing at all will happen except a quick weekend trip and a little tourism.
Wish me luck. I’d rather like to know what happens to Jodi and Ben, myself.
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