Time to Write: Sentence Starter 13

Begin a new story idea or chapter using this sentence:

“The doorbell rang at one-o’clock in the morning.”

Feel free to post your story in the comments below. I’d love to see what you come up with. If you respond by Thursday, September 2, I’ll post your story and a link to your blog for next week’s Time to Write prompt.

Happy writing!

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13 thoughts on “Time to Write: Sentence Starter 13

  1. Becky – A Relationship Tale

    The doorbell rang at one-o’clock in the morning.
    A third-floor beachfront condo and the fact it was in the middle of the week, precluded a random drunk. Wearing only my sweatpants, I squinted at the peephole, saw my girlfriend, and quickly unlocked it.
    “Becky!” Before I could say any more, she threw herself into my arms.
    “Please. Steve.” She was trembling and seemed on the point bursting into tears. “Please let me stay here, tonight.”
    “Shhsss. Of course you can stay.” No one else was in the hallway, so I closed and locked the door.
    “What happened. What’s the matter?”
    She composed herself, gave me a half-smile, a quick kiss, then hugged me tighter. “Sorry to wake you so late, but I really need to be with you right now.”
    We’d been together almost a year and had talked about her moving in when her lease was up. Her current apartment was a bit closer to the school, but mine had the beach that we both loved. She would graduate in a bit over a year.
    She avoided my questions, stripped, and crawled under the covers. Tired as I was, I couldn’t resist such a lovely invitation.
    The squawking alarm went off way too early, but I managed to shower and was halfway done shaving, when I realized I didn’t hear her.
    “Becky?” No answer.
    A quick sweep of the apartment showed no sign. I figured she must have been running really late for an early class and didn’t want to wake me.
    About eleven, I called to see if she could break free for lunch. It went to voice mail so I finished up, told the boss I would take a late meal, and drove over to the campus about one.
    I’d met her psych professor on several occasions and he didn’t mind me sitting in the back of the class for a few minutes.
    When I walked in, he immediately dismissed class. “Hey there, son. How are you holding up?”
    I smiled. “Okay, I guess. Why?” I was looking around for Becky.
    “Oh no. You haven’t…” He pulled me toward a chair. “Sit down, please.”
    “Why? What’s the matter?”
    “Yesterday afternoon, some drunk ran a red light, and…” He shook his head. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but Becky is dead.”

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