The exercise

In what would be our very last class before we parted ways, we were given a small exercise of which we had to create an opening of a story, but using words that somehow ignited the sense or drew upon them. And it had to be about a car. And it had to be a true story. Not to mention we had to do this for three separate stories.

I only managed one story, as I wasn't entirely too sure if I was doing the exercise correctly. Here is my little entry:

The sense of desperation was thick in the air. Mixed with the sound of the faraway cry of my ex boyfriend’s car alarm ringing throughout the car park, we were no closer to finding his car then when we began the search almost 10 minutes earlier. Similarly like music blaring throughout a forest, the sound was all around us and only made the search more and more frantic.

            He pressed the button to signal the alarm for what seemed the hundredth time, and we both began walking in hopes of getting closer to the car and closer to leaving the shopping centre of which we had very quickly and unfairly grown rather annoyed at.

            It seemed hopeless. So we marched back to a meeting point and faced our bodies across from each other, whilst keeping our eyes on his keys he held in his hand. And unknowingly for the final time, he press hard down on the button to sound the now irritating car alarm, but this time, it was different.

            The sound was not all around us; it was above us. One whole level above us. “I don’t remember going down stairs…” I said. “Yeah, me neither”, responded the ex.