MidReal Story
Falling Shadows: Secrets of Willow Creek
Scenario: Free falling gun
Create my version of this story
I was about to walk out of the coffee shop in the town square when my phone began to ring.
A quick glance at the screen revealed it was my editor, Lily.
I rolled my eyes as I answered, “What do you want?”
Her voice came through the speaker, and I could almost see her waving frantically in her petite frame.
“Come to the square now!”
I frowned and looked over in her direction, spotting her and her fiery red hair, which was usually pinned up in a bun, falling around her shoulders in a tangle of waves.
I could see the excitement in her eyes even from across the square, but I had no idea what had her in such a tizzy.
I ended the call and made my way over to where she stood.
When I reached her, she was grinning from ear to ear, the look on her face promising trouble—and a great headline.
I sighed as I approached.
“What’s going on?”
Lily Thompson was one of my oldest friends, having grown up with her and my brother, Mark, who had followed in our father’s footsteps to become a police officer.
A few years back, when I’d moved back to Willow Creek after college and snagged a job at the local newspaper, Lily and I had gone from colleagues to partners in crime in our quest for the perfect headline.
It turned out that even in a small town like Willow Creek, there were always stories to be told.
“Look over there.” She nodded toward the benches across the square.
As I turned to see what she was gesturing toward, a frown marred my expression.
There were two people sitting on one of the benches, their heads huddled together as they spoke in hushed tones.
They were older than most of the residents of Willow Creek, probably in their late eighties or early nineties, wearing drab clothes that looked like they could have hailed from another era.
I shook my head and turned back to her.
“What about them?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at me.
“Don’t you think it’s weird that two old people are sitting there talking on a bench?
I mean, who knows what they’re plotting?
Now we have to figure out what they’re up to.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
This was just like Lily to see a story where there probably wasn’t one.
Despite my misgivings, I followed her lead and plopped down on the bench behind the two people she’d pointed out, who were still talking quietly to each other.
We sat there for a moment, but it didn’t look like anything exciting was going to happen.
Then a few of the other people who were milling around the square began to gather, and I felt my interest pique.
“What’s going on?”
I asked one of the passersby as they walked by.
The woman shook her head, looking bewildered.
“I don’t know.”
The longer we sat there, though, the more people began to show up, until the entire square was abuzz with activity.
Lily leaned over to me with a smile that said she’d found our next story.
