The Typewriter
It had been two weeks since mom left me here at Uncle Louis’s house. ‘Spaghetti prison’, I called it due to the fact all uncle Louis ate was spaghetti. I long since had finished exploring the house and grounds, and the only thing left to explore was the closet. I began to dig through the piles of junk, dust, and dirt. And there at the bottom was the typewriter. Old, dusty and broken, to me it looked majestic. To me it looked like water would to a man in the desert. To me it offered an escape from the prison of boredom. All I had to do was make it work.
Fixing the typewriter turned out to be easier then I thought. A few keys needed tightened, a problem that I easily solved with an old wrench I found in the attic, but that was it. Slowly I inserted apiece of paper and began to type.
I told a story of a beautiful princess, a heroic knight, and an evil villain. I looked down at my work and read it through once more, it wasn’t half bad. As I looked I realized I wasn’t in my room anymore, infact I wasn’t anywhere near my room.
“Princess, we must hurry.” With a start I turned to face the voice. In front of me stood a handsome young man in shining armor. Who was he? And why did he call me Princess? I looked down at my clothes I wasn’t in my t-shirt in jeans anymore; instead I was in the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. Then it hit me I was in my story. I was the princess in my story!
“Princess, are you coming?” he said
“ Yes” I said.
We hurried down the passage, then down a flight of stairs. We had almost reached the castle’s gate when we hard voices behind us.
“Quick, catch them before they escape!”
“The guards!” I cried my voice shaking.
“Don’t worry I won’t let them get you!” We turned down a hall and then down another. As we did the voices kept getting closer, the guards were gaining on us!
“Quick, hide in here!” He whispered. We slipped in the door of a side chamber carefully we bolted the door and stood breathing hard up against it.
Then the guards’ voices were herd from outside, “Open this door!”
“Never,” the knight cried. I felt his grasp tighten around me. Then suddenly his grasp faded away; once again I was in my room, at my uncle’s house. It had all been a dream. Or had it? I would never know.
This story was the result of one of those write a story using these three random objects (in this case spagetti, a typewriter, and a wrench) exercises. I know it needs major revising and any input is welcome.
Thanks,
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