Writing prompt: pick up the nearest book. Now pick two numbers - these represent the page number and the line of text you will use as a prompt. On July 1, we picked: "Until her last moment on Earth she was unaware that her irreparable fate as a disturbing woman was a daily disaster." Below is my response.
The knocking on the door was barely audible over the music blaring from the speakers next tot he tub.
"Luanne! Luanne, open this door!"
If she could hear in that moment, she may or may not have recognized his voice. She didn't even remember her own name.
And she was off. Eyes open, mouth too. Water gone red and a baby asleep in the room next door. Some decisions just can't be unmade.
So she was gone.
Luanne came to on what felt like a prison bed but was actually a bench in what appeared to be a park. There were no people there and the light hurt her eyes. But it must have been a park, she could hear birds.
She tries to stand and when she couldn't, she looked down for her legs. But her body was gone. Her sagging tits, her muscular thighs, the tattoo on her ankle - all of it, gone.
"What the fuck is happening?" She asked it out loud, to herself.
"Show's about to start," an answer she didn't expect. She screamed.
"Who said that? What the fuck is happening?!"
From a cloud of mist hovering above the long green lawn walked a man. At least it looked like a man. But also like a woman, kind of. It was beautiful.
"Luanne, I have some ... unnerving news to share with you. Whatever your reaction, please know I'm here with you and you are not in any danger."
"Luanne, you are dead. You slit your wrists in your bathtub Tuesday afternoon. You are in what some may call 'Purgatory.' How are you doing so far?"
"I ... I don't ... fuck! Why would I do a stupid fucking thing like that?!"
"Luanne. Please allow yourself to calm down. 'Breathe,' if you will. Though you should know your body is no longer with you, and the things you are feeling are merely phantom sensations."
Luanne, quiet now, nodded her non-existent head. The "man" before her dissolved into the mist, but she could feel him still.
"You're dead too?"
"Something like that, yes. I don't have a body either. It's light, isn't it?"
"Well shit, kinda, yea. So what's next?"
Chicago-born citizen of the globe, rich in the things that really matter. Let's get weird.