This I Knead

A little share of an excerpt from my short story titled: Any Time . As the flakes of ash gently floated from the tip of her cigarette – she smoked menthols “because they burn gently” – and the wisps of smoke rose in a dance above her finger tips, she could feel the depression setting in.   It was midnight, or shortly after midnight, and all the traffic in the road beneath her balcony was now gone. In summer, you can sit out on the balcony for the whole night and ponder your life away; this is what Cleo wanted to do. Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

Got to play around with a mystery game of time and setting scenic writing. Turned out the exercise was more mystery than descriptive, but it was really fun. Here's what I came up with. Can you guess the setting? The void seemed to pulsate with each sonar beep. “Where could they be? Where could they be?” The question looped in Stuart Corrigan’s mind, battling the panic frenzy happening around him. Bodies flew about the corridor pulling streamers and over-inflated balloons behind them. His eyes fixated on the bottom right corner on the monitor. Would it all really come to an end soon? Each minute seemed to take light-years to pass, and he was qualified to make this grand statement. The clink of bottles and cheap dollar store glasses, the type that his Nana kept for unwelcome guests on the ranch, syncopated with his breath and the rhythmic beeps. “Anything yet?” asked the head of Dr. Ewan Plitts, severed by metallic door frame. “No. N...