In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “BYOB(ookworm).”
Life was beginning to become a series of missed opportunities for William. After almost losing his business as a result of the Market Crash, he was barely keeping things float. Work was constantly asking questions, his home life was suffering as a result. It looked like everything was about to disappear, leaving him alone. But then one day a mysterious stranger arrives asking William to look after a package. “People will be looking for this eventually, guard it.”
And than things started to change. Every day William checked to make sure things were safely kept. He also made sure to keep the same routine, but with a different sense of purpose. Weeks grew into months of careful planning. People started to ask what had changed, but were met with silence. Always looking over his shoulder, always worried that this mysterious stranger was going to return seeking to take his purpose away.
And then one day it happened. The package was gone. No note, no warning, just gone. And with it a series of events unfolds that takes William deeper into an underworld he didn’t know existed.
This is where the true mystery began. Why was he picked to look after this box? Who was the mysterious person and how could William find him? Why was this all so important?
For me this prompt just had me thinking this story if ever written could go in two directions. Firstly, I know I could easily tun this into a book about the loss of my daughter and the journey I’m on trying to understand why. Metaphysics at its best? But at the same time I could turn this into a story about cancer, another one of my issues. That one is still being written and I’m not sure about the final outcome. So maybe sticking with the daughter aspect would be better.
It was about having this little package arrive and all I could do was protect her. All of the mystery of her potential is still allusive for me. Who knows, maybe it would make for an interesting novel. Authors always talk about how some incident spurned them on to write. Hell if I know. But I do know Hell.