These are the first 13 lines from my entry for NPR's most recent "Three Minute Fiction" contest. The rules stipulated less than 600 words and gave the first sentence as a prompt that had to be used.
I'd be interested in comments and potential readers for the whole 600 words. Thanks.
She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. At the knob, she paused and looked back toward the library. Had she chosen the right book? She nodded and stepped firmly across the threshold.
The room was antiseptic: shining white walls and floor, bright light overhead, a stainless steel table. On the table sat an envelope, "Olivia Nicholls" printed precisely in the center. She opened it and skimmed the contract. Olivia smiled nervously at the endless list of possible dangers: poisoning, mental illness, beheading; pregnancy? She signed and fed each page through a scanner in the wall.
Olivia put her clothes in a locker then stood uncertain, naked, in the harsh whiteness until the lights went out.
Posts: 18 | Registered: May 2012
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Oh my gosh, that is intriguing. I like the contrast: at first I had a mental image of a big, private library, like in someone's mansion. Stuff, with bookcases covering the walls. But then as soon as she stepped through that door it was like she was in a hospital, no, more like a futuristic experimentation room. Feel free to send it to me, too.
Posts: 206 | Registered: Jun 2012
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