Thoughts not yet actions

There’s been this merry mishmash of ideas in my head for the past couple of hours. I figure now is a good time to expand on them. At the very least, it might be entertaining.

The first was this short story idea I had while washing the dishes. It was one of those times that I had some lines just pop into my mind and went with it aloud. Let’s see if I can remember what came to mind.

It started raining. The window above the sink was jammed open. Amelia Rice stood elbow-deep in suds, smiling at the heavy green-grey scent of the weather. Her auburn hair blew back against her face as if she were standing in front of a wind machine. Droplets of water aided her efforts to rinse the pot and ceramic mugs.

The sound of the doorbell ringing brought a smile to her face. Amelia was not the sort of person who smiled often. Those who saw her smile would have said that this was for the better. There was an eerie quality to the expression. As if she herself were unaware of why she was performing it.

She opened the front door to see a pair of police officers standing on the ivy-patterned welcome mat. One was very old and haggard, his partner pink-faced and twitchy. They greeted her with tipped hats and polite smiles that faded quickly. “Mrs Rice?”

“Yes. Call me Amelia.” She invited them in.

They looked rather silly sitting on her tasteful love seat. Neither slumped, although she imagined that at least one of them would have very much liked to do so. The younger one with the pink face cleared his throat. “Are you related to a Mr Daniel Rice?”

“He’s my husband.”

The pink-faced man cleared his throat. She was about to offer them a spot of tea when he said, “I’m sorry to inform you, ma’am, that your husband was found dead this morning.”

She fixed him with one of her eerie smiles. “Oh good.”

Both officers looked at one another, then back at her. One was astonished, the other suspicious. The haggard officer put his hand on his hip, as if reaching for a weapon that he was not carrying. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh no need. It’s just that I’ve been waiting to hear that for two years.”

The younger officer held out a hand as if to stall his partner from further action. “Waiting two years,” he repeated, as if to himself. “Are you a clairvoyant, Mrs Rice?”

“Nothing of the sort. My husband was a notoriously horrible man, officer. I’ve expected him to run afoul of something more awful than he is–haha, of course I mean was–ever since I married him. Quite frankly, I’m surprised it took this long.”

Anyway, it turns out that she’s eighteen and they were married in Denmark. I’m not sure why they married, but I’m sure the reason is either cool or creepy. I’m not sure if this is a world where clairvoyants have more clout than they would in the actual world, but that may be worth exploring.

The other stuff I’ve been thinking about have to do with something else I mentioned today. Namely, the idea of using the medium of a fictional blog to write accounts from supernatural students. I picked up the app Surviving High School the other day, and I am surprised by how much I like playing it.

I love seeing my character bumble through his decisions and the things that happen to him. He’s not the most proactive guy, but some cool stuff happens to him. He got in a fight on his first day of school, started dating a goth, joined the football team, and eventually made friends with his enemy in some rather long and heart-warming circumstances.

I was kind of thinking that it’d be fun to marry those two things. The narrative style of the game with the supernatural aspect. Again, it’s pedestrian and tired, but fun.

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