It’s Coming

Inch by inch, it’s growing. It’s coming my way. I keep expecting the force of gravity to pull it down, bend it. But no, it’s heading for me. Me! The very spot where I now type is its aim, its direction. What shall I do? Evacuate? Move? Fight back?

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “it’s coming.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

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

4 thoughts on “It’s Coming”

  1. The girls quivered in their respective bedrooms
    Huddled similarly in corners
    Knees against their chests
    Arms wrapped tightly around their knees
    Because they knew that it’s coming

    The sharp footsteps down the short hallway
    The sound of one door unlatching,
    Then the next.

    The choice
    Belt, cane, or hand

    The door swung open quickly
    And it began

    It continued until the woman known as Mom was sated
    Then it stopped

    The woman known as Mom left suddenly
    The door closed abruptly
    Latched quickly
    And it was over

    Until tomorrow.

  2. She sat at her desk in front of the window. She literally could hear the damned thing growing. Imagine! Just like the story of “Jack and The Beanstalk.” When she bought the tiny plant at the annual winter flower show she had not known that it would take off like mad. It grew and grew and grew. The lush green leaves blossomed out laterally. It began to curl and climb around all other plants and statues in its path. Finally, it began to make its way clinging to the outside wall of the house. When she sat at her computer she swore she could hear the teeniest sounds of exertion as it continued creeping towards her open window. “It’s coming. This is really creepy!” She could not believe how frightened it made her. Where the hell had she stored her garden axe and clippers? “I’m going to have to kill the thing.”

  3. The sky darkened .
    the first raindrops fell .
    In mini clouds of dust .
    The wind whistled .
    The trees swayed and shook , like drunks.
    “Its coming !”
    “What pa?”
    “The storm “

  4. The gaping void of silence filled the street as the slight breeze brushed translucent mist over the cobbles. The old lamposts flickered and reflections of light slowly danced along the pools of water leftover in hollows and potholes. The air was cold and bitter, the sky dark and empty.

    Slumped over in the middle of the street there he was. His breath calm and visible – leaving his lips delicately before dissipating into the mist, never to be seen again. A single flow of blood trickled from an obvious gash on his neck steadily weeping.
    In the distance, the sound of steady footsteps cracked through the silent air, and the eerie screech of an axe clanging against cobbles grew louder.
    Yet, he still sat there slumped over. Helpless.

    Because, inside he knew.

    It’s coming ….

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