3 AM

A scraping noise. A quiet car driving away. The clock said 3 AM. She peered out the window. The garden hose lay near the street, splayed on the sidewalk like a giant snake. Someone was stealing the hose? Or trying to? She dialed 911.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “3 AM.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

4 thoughts on “3 AM”

  1. “Munni”
    “Muuuuunnniiii” The voice is panicking now.
    “Arrrgh”Munni covers her ears with her sheet, and pretends that the old woman will go back to sleep.
    “Munni?” A threat and a query in one .
    Munni groans and looks at the clock. 3a.m.,
    “Who wakes up their folks at 3a.m.? Is there no mercy in this world ? Can’t a hard working person even have her share of shut -eye?”
    She knows the answer already.
    The old -woman does, and she will.,unless she is put to sleep. The harridan . The witch. The blood-sucking vampire.
    She is sitting there on the bed, waiting to suck my life’s blood. Who rouses the household , just because she can’t sleep? The wretch. She thinks angrily. She has reached her room now.
    She stands there, looking at the nodding head of grey hair with undiluted vehemence. May the earth crack open and swallow her whole, either her or me , she thinks with rage .
    She steps forward and shakes the nodding head awake . “you called me .”She yells into the ear of the nonagenarian ,”Why?”
    “I can’t sleep beta.” She lies unblinkingly.
    “Any more sleeping pills and you will have another fall in the bathroom,” Munni yells into the ancient ears. The threat time travels down the ear-canals , dating from pre-partition days , and wakes her up, fully .
    “There must be something that you can do, beta .” The old woman implores.
    Munni gnashes her teeth as she extracts yet another b-complex tablet from the strip , and fills a glass of water from the filter.
    “Your pill.”She yells into the ears, and she looks up to find the old man , passed away ten years since, grinning down from his framed snap on the wall.
    “What have you left behind bauji?” Sudden tears sting her sleepy eyes.

  2. Gina had not been able to reconcile sleep. No sense in staying in bed if she was going to continue tossing and turning. She slid out of bed and sat on the bedroom recliner. Turning on the reading lamp, she opened the book to the marked page and started to read. It was a book of Truman Capote’s literary short stories, and she was enjoying it. She put the book down and thought: Why can’t I write like that?

    Her thoughts started to become foggy and her eyelids heavy. It was 3 AM, and she knew it was time to call it a night. She crawled into bed, laid her head on the pillow, and the story she had been reading came to life.

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