You’re outside cutting your grass when you come across a large hole in the ground. You’ve never noticed the hole before, but it looks to be some sort of tunnel to another world. You decide to peek through and see where it leads, only it leads you to a pivotal moment in your past—and it’s giving you an opportunity to change it. Write this scene.
Writer’s Digest has some good prompts for writing. And notice that I am not writing this scene because I’m lazy and I have nine minutes left to write 100 words, which does not count the above quote/hyperlink.
If I was outside cutting grass, I’d have to be living in a place that had grass and a place that has an HOA, because I don’t cut grass, thank you. Mowing is not a favorite thing. The last time I mowed was in Albuquerque NM, and most of the grass was dying anyway. But we had a mower, and it was occasionally used. I don’t remember his name. Yeah, the mower got a name. I believe we gave it to our friend Scott because he had just purchased a house that had a grass yard. Not sure what happened to it after that.
A large hole in the ground that I’ve never seen before. Would that be – “Oh look, there’s a hole. That’s one hell of a gopher,” or would it be, as I’m falling into it, “Yikes – where’d this come from?” Or, “Gee, that looks like a sinkhole. I hope we don’t have a water leak.”
Since I’m mowing in Albuquerque, I vote for the “Yikes – hole!” aspect, and I’d be falling into it, mower and all, without pausing to contemplate where it was taking me, because holes that big just don’t happen in Albuquerque in the middle of a residential area. Out in the scrub, sure. The sandstone can collapse and you can fall in to a cavern, but you’re more likely to have a cliff face crumble under your weight than a hole open up under you.
And when you’re falling, I expect that the most immediate thing on your mind is not “gee, is this taking me to another world?” It’s more likely to be “Oh nuts, I’m falling and I’m going to hit something hard and it’s gonna hurt a lot.”