Today I am working from two prompts in my little Pocket Muse. I opened it at random, and on facing pages were the words “Your character is being followed.” and “There is a coat. The coat has a pocket. What is inside the pocket?”
I just dashed this out five minutes ago, so don’t judge.
My pulse quickened, and I had to force my feet to keep a steady pace. I mentally reviewed everything I knew about street safety. Head up, look alert, walk confidently… don’t look like a victim. I’d never seen Cowley Street look so deserted. My fingers curled around the mace in the pocket of my coat. Illegal or not, I was glad to have it. The can felt tiny. Would there be enough if I had to use it? There was still one more precaution I could take. I sucked in a deep breath and turned around, still moving in the same direction. “Excuse me, but do you have the time?”
His pace didn’t check. He didn’t seem startled or angry, but neither did he respond to my question. He simply stared, as we both kept moving. My hand tightened around the mace. If he tried to close the distance between us by so much as an inch…
“Give it back.” His voice was so soft I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly.
“It’s mine. I want it back.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before in my life. How could I have anything of yours?”
His forehead puckered strangely, and he took two long strides towards me. Whipping the mace out of my pocket, I leaped forward and sprayed it directly in his face. He screamed and doubled over, clutching his eyes, and I whirled around and sprinted down the street.
Oh, yeah, this is going to turn into something. I have no idea what it will turn into, at this point, but it will definitely become something.