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 |   Contains my entries for all things endurance on WDC |
Home to my entries for endurance challenges.  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
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 Required: Freestyle Brainstorm ▼Spend at least fifteen minutes writing whatever ideas come to you about your plot, characters and setting. Scene 1: Cemetery- Starts with Evan in cemetery at his mother's grave, talks about setting, scenery, etc... Sees Margot across the cemetery standing at the back of a funeral burial. Red hair catches attention. Watches her from his mother's grave until she leaves. Full circle brings back to mother's grave and then into next scene... Scene 2: Background Description: Suicide- Explains last years of mother's life, how he couldn't be there the way he wanted. explains going to school and coming back to see her. explains volatile relationship between the two at the end of her life. Maybe last time he saw her or how she was found dead. Found by Dr. Albright or Dr. Albright raised suspicion after not seeing her and Evan found her. Then go into next scene about who the doctor is... Bonus: Extended Brainstorm ▼Add at least fifteen additional minutes to your freestyle brainstorming time. Scene 3: Introduce Dr. Albright and 2nd meeting- Evan sees Margot for the 2nd time in this scene. Starts at Dr. Albright's office and discusses Evan's job there as a medical transcriptionist for the doctor's sessions. Talks about balance between work and school. Margot leaves credit card at front desk and receptionist asks Evan to run out and give it to her. They meet then in the parking lot, briefly. Then Evan goes back inside and talks to Dr. Albright which leads into the next scene... Scene 4: Extended Background: Childhood- More extensive background of Dr. Albright and Evan's relationship via his mother. Talks about how his father and sister died. Discusses how his childhood was before vs. after the accident and the ups and downs of his mother's recovery and decline. Importance of Dr. Albright, Shannon, and Shannon's parents. Extends into a scene discussing current living arrangements and Shannon Scene 5: Explains the loft where he lives with Shannon and Taylor now. Talks about getting to work and school, distance from home and cemetery. Talks about major and future goals. Discusses how past has shaped career choice |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Miriam had been cursed. Not the kind of curse that you know about right away, but the kind that seeps in through the pores in your skin over time. She couldn’t imagine what she had done to deserve it in this life, so she decided that it was retribution for something she had done in her past life. It began with the death of her child. She was paying attention while he was playing in their front yard, but nothing could have prepared her for the drunk driver who sped off the road and ran her boy over. Even though he hadn’t said it, she felt that her husband, Marco, blamed her for it in some way. The first thing he had said when he saw her was, “How could you let him play so close to the road?” It was true, Miriam knew. With their full acre front yard, there was no excuse for him to be playing ten feet from the road. It was a thought that gnawed and Miriam’s conscience and she thought was the determining factor in her husband’s filing for divorce after 18 months. Half the age Sam had been when he died. He couldn’t even give her that amount of time to recover. The foreclosure on their home during the divorce process was just what was needed to push Marco over the edge. He changed. He became deranged and obsessive, even though he was the one who had filed for divorce. Miriam had chosen not to take him back when he offered, sure that he was just trying to get back on his feet while she accepted the help of her parents. The restraining order came not long after. There was the loss of her job, the strange virus that attacked her body for months, her mother’s cancer diagnosis, her sister’s move across the globe, the rash of break-ins in her new neighborhood, and the constant nightmares of Sam’s crippled body laying motionless on the grass. As Miriam had learned to do though, she finally picked herself up and began to move on with her life, decorating her new home that she was renting to own with pictures of her family and trinkets that made her feel welcome. Her new job wasn’t as good as the old one and her mother’s diagnosis didn’t have a favorable outcome, but she was getting along well in her neighborhood after the police finally found the burglars. It wasn’t a wonderful life, but it felt, comfortable somehow. It was okay enough. Thinking her life would be more fulfilled if she found her way back into the church, she started attending regular Sunday sermons. The congregation was nice enough, but after a month or so, Miriam realized that religion was not a piece of the puzzle she was trying to form for herself. She stopped going to the sermons without a second thought. Less than three weeks later, there was a knock at her door. She opened it to find Pastor Rogers in his usual Sunday attire. The time was late however and it seemed most unusual that he would show up on a Saturday night. “Hello, Miriam,” he smiled politely, waiting to be invited in as he clutched the bible by his side. “Hello, Pastor Rogers. Um, please do come in. I’m surprised to see you around at this time of night. “Yes, ma’am, just making my rounds to our recent absentees. The Lord’s work is never done and neither shall be mine.” “Oh, I see,” Miriam said uncomfortably as she began walking down the hall toward the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. “Were you planning on attending the sermon tomorrow?” he called from the entryway where he still stood. Miriam peered back down the hallway. “I’m sorry, Pastor Rogers, I’ve decided to worship in my own way.” She didn’t know how to say that she thought it was all a crock of shit. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he replied, sounding genuinely upset. “It’s not you or your church that’s the problem. It’s- I don’t think that public worship is for me,” Miriam stumbled over her words. “Would you like some coffee, then? Tea perhaps? I was going to make some.” Father Rogers sighed loudly and began stepping down the hallway. “Don’t mind if I do.” Miriam turned to walk toward the kitchen again when she heard loud footsteps running behind her. She turned her head to peer over her shoulder and was confronted with a hairy demon holding a scythe of some sort. Screaming, Miriam ran down the hallway and into the kitchen where she turned and saw the hallway empty now. Where had he gone? She grabbed the phone, but there was no dial tone. She slammed it back into the receiver and peeked beyond the wall to the hallway again. This time, the beast was back, but it was peering into the bathroom. Miriam clapped her hand over her mouth to calm her loud breathing and leaned against the wall with her eyes closed. She stilled, attempting to hear the demon breathing or walking down the hall, but she heard nothing. Once more, she began to lean over the wall to peek down the hallway, but this time she was met with the cold blade of the scythe ripping against her throat. Her scream was cut short by the gurgling sound of blood in her throat. Her last thought as the scythe took her life away was that her life had most definitely been cursed. |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** It had been almost one year since the meteor hit. What they say about only the powerful surviving- it’s almost true. There was me, sometimes alone, sometimes traveling in a pack. When the going gets rough, the rough get going. You can tell after a while how long someone has before they’ll snap. The scavengers aren’t your worst memories in this world, the weak people are. Anyone who will drag you down, anyone who you’re willing to risk your life to save becomes your worst enemy. Most people can’t separate those pre-meteor emotions from the world we live in now. That’s how you get yourself killed. That’s something I’ll never do. Traveling from peak to peak, I can almost drown out the cries of those below. I’ve learned to close my eyes and silence the voice in my head that screams at me to help the wounded, those being attacked and ripped apart limb from limb. In the beginning, it was difficult; after a while, it became second nature. At this point, I’ll hardly save someone even if I know that I can do it without risking myself. Why? Because you don’t want someone who needs saving watching your back, and that’s what you end up doing when you’re not alone. You let your guards down. You forget to watch your own back. Time and time again I’ve seen strong people lose their lives from sheer ignorance, or maybe the incessant need to feel some small amount of normalcy. The ones they’ve attempted to save are usually not far behind them in death. This river, miles above ground, has become my home over the last three months. I’ve watched every sunrise and sunset, tallying the days by etching them into the wood paneling of my sailboat with the corner of my thumb nail. The river is good for fish, trout mostly, and the water is fresh and pure. It’s a sanctuary in this life. I’ve not given much thought to what I’ll do when the scavengers find it or what I’ll do when the supply runs out. Inevitably, something grim will happen, as it always does. With no one by my side though, I’ll be prepared for a battle. If I need to retreat to save my life, I will, but it will not be without fight. I believe they’re getting closer. The way the screams echo between cannons seems to last longer today than it did yesterday. The scavengers just better hope that they’re ready for me. |
| Write a story that sets up your plot. EXAMPLE: The Lord of the Rings story revolves around the One Ring, its significance, and how it's destroyed. But how did Frodo get the One Ring in the first place? We learn that in The Hobbit. You obviously can't write a full-scale novel in 15 minutes, but you could write the scene where Bilbo encounters Gollum and stumbles across the ring. That would be a background story that sets up the plot in Lord of the Rings. My fingernails scratched along the wrought-iron fence as I stared up at the asylum. I shook my head, no, don’t call it that. It’s a hospital, not an asylum. Mom’s face hovered into view in one of the windows on the far end. It was always like this when I walked by here, my head flooded with thoughts and images that I couldn’t control. She had been here over a dozen times in the decade before her death, some were just quick stays, evaluations and releases. Others though, other times she rotted away behind the barred windows for weeks, staring at the bleakness of the barren landscape. Had she thought of me? Had her fingernails scratched against the windowpanes and begged to be freed? Did she remember her child who sat in her neighbor’s spare bedroom after school and contemplated his finite ability to help her? All I wanted was to see her be happy. Mrs. Fitzgerald told me on numerous occasions over a plate of chocolate chip cookies in her ever motherly way that Mom intended to become happy herself, that’s why she had to go away sometimes, to become a happier version of herself. Even though my mother was in my life until I was nineteen, I felt like all of my stories of her came secondhand. They mostly consisted of her good intentions and the struggles she fought behind her glass eyes. I do remember her before that, before Dad and Anna’s accident. I remember her before the funeral and the months spent blending in with the couch in a ratty night robe. If only she could have told me in her own words. I couldn’t stand to hear them talking about her at their funeral like any of them gave a damn. They never came to see her, not once. I didn’t care that Mom had turned into a complete nutcase, it would have given her hope to see that there were people who fought through that to show their love for her. I carried guilt of my own, of course- what I could have done better, how I could have helped her. In one of our sessions while Mom was still alive, Dr. Albright told me about the leather journals Mom was keeping during her time in the institution. He suggested that I talk to her about them and see if I could even start some journal writing of my own. I had seen one of them on the dining room table one Saturday morning when I came home from Shannon’s apartment. She was passed out on the living room couch with informercials playing way too loudly even though we had plans to spend the day together. I made the choice not to wake her though. Her most recent stay had lasted over two months and she had all but lost guardianship of herself during it. The only time she looked peaceful was when she was sleeping on the couch. I didn’t worry about her alcohol or pill intake anymore. I didn’t fret over the flushed state of her cheeks against the fragile frame of her yellowing body. I didn’t plan for the future anymore. I had only just begun reading the journal when I heard a loud screech behind me. I don’t know why I decided to read it, but I thought something in there might help me help her and that would be worth the privacy invasion, even if she was angry at first. I didn’t expect her to wake up so suddenly. I didn’t think the soft padding of her footsteps would allow her to sneak up from behind. She immediately went into attack mode, all claws as we struggled over the journal. I wasn’t actually trying to rip it away from her, but the way she gripped it caused our arms to be interlocked and we fought against each other with the goal of breaking free. I didn’t want to take it from her, but I also couldn’t let it go after her reaction. “How dare you, you bastard? How dare you touch my belongings? This is MY journal!” she screamed in an unnaturally high-pitched voice. “Mom, let go! You’re hurting my arm! Just drop it, please, I begged as I tried to slow our spinning fight. I tripped over a kitchen chair and let go of the book all at once. I saw Mom’s twisted expression of shock as she flew backward and slammed into the white metal of the oven door. “I hate you!” she screamed as I scrambled to my feet to help her up. She shook me off though, drool dripping down her chin as she bared her teeth like a wild animal. I had no idea what had gotten into her, but I didn’t follow when she half ran-half stumbled down the hallway to her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. The kitchen had fallen suddenly quiet and still. This wasn’t the first incident we had like this in recent years, but none had been so feverishly dramatic. That’s when I heard her screaming from behind her bedroom door. “Get out of here! Get out of my house, you bastard! I hate you. I’ll call the police!” In a complete state of shock, I had collected myself and rushed over to Mrs. Fitzgerald’s house. She answered the door with a bright smile, but her face dropped as soon as she saw mine. “What’s wrong, Evan?” I told her about what had just taken place and she agreed to let me use the phone to call Dr. Albright and explain the situation. Watching the men drag her from our house once again was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Seeing her screech and scratch at them like a wild banshee was the solid evidence I needed to allow myself to realize that she would never be okay, not again. After her suicide, the journal haunted me. Whatever was in it, she didn’t want me to see. I would daydream about opening it up and finding a complete explanation of her decline into mental illness. Other times I would imagine it full of Bible verses, or numbers that had no significance. I even thought of it being filled with one sentence over and over again like The Shining. “All work and no play makes Eliza a dull girl.” It wasn’t until I met Margot though that I started seriously considering what could be in the journal. I knew what it was like to lose a family. I had lost my entire family. There were equal odds of Margot being batshit insane after losing her mother to suicide and there being a genuine conspiracy afoot. There were certain similarities that required me to give a second look. Our mothers had the same doctor, were sent to the same hospital, and both committed suicide. However, my mother hung herself from the living room beams while hers swallowed far too many pills. Her mother had killed herself when Margot was 16, mine when I was 19. They had different diagnoses too. Margot’s mother had always been crazy, mine was driven to it by way of grief. Still, I found myself becoming more and more obsessed with the red-haired Margot and the story that spilled from her soft, rose lips. She could either be a key to my past or a roadblock to my future. For once in my life, I felt as though I was the one holding the choice of my fate in my own hands, and no one was going to make this decision for me. |
| Required: Cultural Setting ▼ Describe the cultural, political and/or religious setting in your novel. What do your societies believe? In what practices do they engage? What kind of government rules your world? What laws or rules of society are in place? Who enforces them? How successful is enforcement of laws and rules? How does this setting impact your protagonist? Update your settings and/or definitions databases (if applicable.) My protagonist lives in a major city that is full of different cultures. There are religions and people of all types in a city with nearly 3 million citizens and 10 million in the county. He is used to being around a lot of people. The cultural setting is based on a city in the US and is realistic fiction, so the political and religious setting is what we experience on a daily basis. Laws and rules of society are what you would see in a major US city. Evan goes to a large, private, Catholic university which is based off of DePaul University. DePaul is the biggest Catholic institution in the US. The country's government is a Federal Republic, same as the US. Certain things that are against the law aren't seen as being so bad, such as speeding or public intoxication whereas other crimes like sexual assault or murder are seen as horrific crimes. I think this would be different if my cultural setting didn't take place in the world we already live in. I don't have a created world; it's just reality-based fiction, so what we experience on a daily basis is what my protagonist will experience on a daily basis. There's a lot of traffic. There are some nice people and some dicks. Everyone is different. And of course, the police enforce the laws by shooting people with great fervor. ;) Bonus: Research OR World Building ▼Research: For reality-based fiction, research aspects of your novel that will lend credibility to your writing. World Building: For fantasy, science fiction, or other speculative fiction, develop the history, geology, ecology, and/or maps for your world. Update your character, setting, and/or definitions databases with any new information (if applicable.) Looking into mental hospitals in Chicago- It will most likely be based off of Dunning. AKA Cook County Insane Asylum which is now called Chicago-Read Mental Health Center. How's the for a euphemism?  I'll change the name of the hospital, of course.Originally served as both an asylum and a poorhouse. From looking at current reviews of the hospital, I have compiled the following information of its current state: - Comprised of 10-15 one-story buildings that are all connected - Has tight security - Visiting hours are 2 to 3 times a week for 90 minutes, depending on where the patient is - "D-South" is a strict area where no pens/pencils, belts, plastic bags or other items are allowed. The patients have access to phones from 10a to 10p and can call local numbers only. They are not allowed outside here. There is only bedrooms and a small living area. - 200 total beds Many former patients had complaints- - Being admitted to the hospital and not meeting the doctor who was prescribing medication for several days - Being forced to sign papers they didn't understand and being yelled at for insubordination if they asked questions - Loud crew at night - Dietary restrictions that weren't followed through with - Mice I've read many lawsuits against Chicago Read and many of them were found to be in favor of the prior patients. Many of these cases are about patients with mental disabilities signing legal papers without having informed consent and without their guardians being notified. There are also cases of confidentiality breach with staff discussing residents within hearing distance of other residents. The ruling favored that confidentiality had been breached, but there is no evidence to confirm that it happened so it did not substantiate the complaint. It did substantiate that the patient did not receive adequate and humane treatment by lack of contact with her social worker, who she only saw one time during her stay of several weeks. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Required: Object Description ▼ Describe, in detail, an object critical to your story. Add the object description to your definitions database (if applicable.) An object critical to my story is the patient charts that Dr. Albright keeps on Evan and Margot, as well as the charts he kept on both of their mothers. They are interested in seeing what diagnoses they received and at what time the files were put into place. Margot has a theory that the charts were doctored after her mother's death and that Dr. Albright is currently altering her charts and possibly Evan's too. In particular, she believes that he is falsifying information that might make them look less mentally stable than they actually are. Evan is interested in finding the journal that his mother kept during her time spent at the mental hospital where Dr. Albright referred his mother on several occasions. He knows that she kept one, but most of her estate was either sold or thrown away after her death. At first, he doesn't take Margot seriously, but he becomes curious and looks for the journal. Bonus: Research OR World Building ▼Research: For reality-based fiction, research aspects of your novel that will lend credibility to your writing. World Building: For fantasy, science fiction, or other speculative fiction, develop the history, geology, ecology, and/or maps for your world. Update your character, setting, and/or definitions databases with any new information (if applicable.) The novel will take place in Chicago, but real hospitals won't be used because i don't want to defame any of the actual hospitals or doctors. Locations will be used though, such as Millennium Park where Evan and Shannon live and where Dr. Albright's office is. The cemetery will be in Skokie, where Evan grew up and he will go to school in Lincoln Park. The school will be framed after DePaul University, but I will give the cemetery and the school different names. DePaul is about 25 minutes by L from Millennium Park, so I will keep the distances about the same. |
| Required: Definitions List ▼ Generate a list of relevant definitions for which you'd like to keep track of details. As an example, here is a possible list of definitions for the Harry Potter series: * rules of magic * the Ministry of Magic * modes of transportation (apparition, Floo network, portkeys, flying, etc.) * the four Houses at Hogwarts * the sword of Gryffindor Non-speculative examples requiring definitions: * a fictional student organization to which your protagonist belongs * the fictional company or division of the FBI for whom your protagonist works * the disease afflicting your protagonist, which is a real condition that you need to research * the antique artifact your protagonist intends to heist In your definitions list, you'll flesh out details that you'll want to remember later for consistency: * how does one enter the Ministry of Magic? * how old does a student have to be before they are allowed to apparate? * who was Hufflepuff school named after again, and what are the typical traits of a Hufflepuff wizard? You won't have to dig through pages and pages of scribbled notes to find whatever you decided about these definitions - they will all be compiled into a neat list / binder / database / note cards / whatever your favorite form of organization happens to be. Bonus: Definitions Database ▼ Compile your definitions list into a format that is easy to update, such as an electronic file (or collection of files) or a binder with room to grow. Keep your list handy for future updates throughout the Prep. - Behavioral Health Hospital - where Dr. Albright tries to send Margot and Evan and where both of their mothers spent some time - Disorders that may come in handy: * Dependent Personality Disorder - People with DPD become emotionally dependent on other people and spend great effort trying to please others. People with DPD tend to display needy, passive, and clinging behavior, and have a fear of separation. * Narcissistic Personality Disorder - Narcissistic personality disorder is a mental disorder in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for admiration and a lack of empathy for others. But behind this mask of ultraconfidence lies a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism. * Paranoid Personality Disorder - People with PPD are always on guard, believing that others are constantly trying to demean, harm, or threaten them. These generally unfounded beliefs, as well as their habits of blame and distrust, might interfere with their ability to form close relationships. |
| Required: Freestyle Brainstorm ▼ Spend at least fifteen minutes writing whatever ideas come to you about your plot, characters and setting. Opening brainstorm: Luck taught me at a young age that I have no luck. I spent a couple hours at the age of nine staring at the coffins of my father and sister, one smaller than the other, and my mother and aunt sniffled into their tissues. There's a certain state of shock one has the first time they begin coming to terms with things like life and death and the finite state of it all. One minute, things can present themselves in a certain way that makes you think everything's going to be okay, but those moments pass with time. Our brick-style cape cod, once full of love and joy, seemed to have all its energy suck dry. It was no longer the colorful place I saw when I stepped off the bus each afternoon. I no longer felt genuine happiness when it came into view and my little feet moved a little slower as I climbed its stone steps. It had been replaced with something grey and dull and void everything. I was void of everything too, watching my mother wither away like a wilted rose dying against the weathered fabric of our living room couch. The furry pink robe that my sister and I helped my father pick out for her last mother's day present faded to grey with use and dirt. Mice made a home of the place, taking advantage of our general lack of caring at all about their existence. It started like this, I guess, in a sad and slow sort of way. The kind of way those things that tumbled out of control start, sliding through your fingers until you realize it's too late to grasp any longer and your hands are only met with polluted air. There was a while there where things were understandable and Aunt Lena said that things would get better with time, once Mom came to terms with the facts of our new life, things would start to get better. But six weeks turned into six months turned into two years and I slipped farther and farther through the cracks until I could've been swept up in the dustpan with the fallen breadcrumbs from my toast dinners. There wasn't any single moment that told me this was our new normal. It just came about in its own fashion and after it was for a while, I simply knew that it would be forever, no matter what Aunt Lena had said, this wasn't going to change. Shannon's mother started inviting me over more and more after his father put his arm on my shoulder and felt only bone beneath. I saw the worried glances they gave each other and the relief in their furrowed eyebrows when I agreed to stay for dinner or, heaven forbid, asked for a second helping. Their eyes would light up like holiday decorations and they always made sure to pack away leftovers to bring to Mom. Depending on the day, she would react differently to their food. If it was a drinking day, she would sometimes gag and the smell and turn over in her robe to bury her face into the soft cushions of the couch. Some days she would grab the saran wrapped plate from my hands and scarf it down like a rabid animal in a messy way that made me so uncomfortable and sick to my stomach, I couldn't even watch. Other days she would become furious with the Fitzgerald's for interfering or even accuse me of lying to them about our living conditions. My favorite days were the ones I came home to find Mom dressed in actual clothing, even if it was just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, it was the best sight I'd see all week. I thought if I could give up one of my senses, sight would be the last to go, just because I would miss seeing her on those days. Instead, I would give up my sense of smell so I'd never have to walk into a bathroom and smell vomit recently spewed into the toilet or alcohol on her breath as she asked me about my day. Bonus: Extended Brainstorm ▼ Add at least fifteen additional minutes to your freestyle brainstorming time. Continued brainstorm: I met Shannon not by chance but by force. His mother, loud and social, met my equally loud and social mother when my family moved into the subdivision. I was two and my parents thought that a cul-de-sac was the perfect place to raise two young children. My first memories involve playing under the dining room table with Shannon where would inevitably end up with our toy cars no matter where in the house we started out. The phone would ring loudly, making us jump every time. Dad would come in and pull it off the hook, already knowing who it was before he answered. He would shout up the stairs, "Eliza! Anita is on the phone!" and Mom would come running down with her curly hair wrapped up in a towel, her makeup have done. We started to understand the meaning of the phone ringing and we'd start to get sad whenever it would. So much so that we learned at some point to simply pull the phone from the hook so that Shannon's mom would get a busy signal when she called to make arrangements to pick him up. They, of course, thought this was hilarious and even set up a camcorder to record us doing this. They loved to show it to people during family reunions and holidays. We were "The Great Phone Bandits" or "The Playoneers" or whatever. It changed every year, but always revolved around us stealing the phone so we could play longer. As you get older, of course, there are things that come between you. Luckily, or unluckily I guess, we had been through too much together by the time we got old enough to bicker about things like girls and school cliques. He knew what a rough time I'd had and continued to have, and I think that made him feel bad for me to the extent that he'd give me a lot of slack in the friendship. His level of protectiveness for me produced a lot of colorful slurs thrown our way by the time we hit middle school. Dad and Anna had been gone for a few years at that point, which kind of made it better when we were getting called faggots and all that. I wouldn't have wanted them to see that, or maybe that wouldn't have happened at all had they still been here. |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The moon danced low in the sky tonight, taunting me as it reflected off the ocean water. I breathed in the salty air and tasted it dry against the back of my throat. Humidity clung against my skin, drawing goosebumps to the surface despite the summer heat. The world breathed around me and I was stuck in its vortex, the scent of the sea rising around me. The sound of the water lapping against the side of my small boat nearly lulled me to sleep as I tossed the paddle into the boat with a clattering bang that echoed out into the darkness. What’s the point in aimlessly rowing into the night? I was helplessly lost and had been for days. The stars shined down, but which one was north and which direction should I be going if I did find it? Something splashed in the water, sending warm droplets over my face that cooled against my face in the late-night breeze. The scent of the ocean brought back memories, clinging to her waist as we said our goodbyes and she made me promise again and again to return as soon as possible. Well, I hadn’t lied. If I could return right now, I would. Instead, I lay back against the splintered wood of the rickety boat and stared at the glistening stars, admiring how they all blurred together. I blinked away a tear that slid down the side of my face and soaked my ear. The silence screamed at me and comforted me all the same. This was okay. This had to be okay. |
| Required: Setting List ▼ Draft a list of your settings and write a brief description of each. NOTE: You will have opportunities to revise the list throughout October, so this revision is not expected to be fully accurate or complete. Evan and Shannon’s apartment- shared with Taylor, owned by Taylor’s parents. Evan and Shannon pay part of the rent every month. Highrise in downtown Chicago. Shannon and Evan share the guest bedroom. Across the unit is the master bedroom with connected bathroom where Taylor sleeps. It is fully updated and they live on the 56th floor. Views from floor to ceiling windows. Granite counters, backsplash, and stainless steel appliances. Evan thinks it’s the type of place his mother would have loved. Dr. Albright’s office- located in the magnificent mile. Has a suite inside a medical building on the second floor. Looks like a normal doctors office with beige walls and dark blue carpets. Dr. Albright’s office has low lights and built in bookshelves. The view is of the cement parking lot where patients park so he keeps the blinds pulled down. Cemetery- where evan and margot first meet. Calvary cemetery in evanston where his childhood home was. Margot was visiting someone at the cemetery while Evan was visiting his mother on her birthday. They didn’t make contact at the cemetery, but it becomes a place of comfort for them |
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I just had a series of very bad flashbacks with this subject. Brrrrrrr!
Just hearing all the kids screaming and stuff... horrible. I couldn't shake that one for a couple days.
