I walked home through town, the other day and came past an empty butcher’s. I’ve gone this way before several times over the last few months and never seen this shop open. There are no opening hours and no meat in the displays, but all the furniture and decorations are still in place. I’ve never thought much of it or the, just as abandoned looking, bakery further down the street.
This time, though, a wasp chased after me as I walked past the butcher’s and it made me wonder what could cause someone to just up and abandon a store like that. I settled on the owner dying during some sort of experiment and to cover it up, the bills are still being paid by whoever. Still needs some ironing out, but I’m getting into it.
I’ve also got the urge to write something centered on a gothic church, but until I know if I can spin that in to, at least, a longer novella, I’m not touching it. I’m not sure I want to invest, what could amount to,weeks of research, into a short story.
Idea are kind of weird for me. I used to think that getting an idea meant thinking of a story one wants to write. I’ve had images, objects, titles, words, or phrases, but never even a rough story. It’s always I want to write something containing X. I like the real way I get ideas better than the expected, though. This way they’re more combinable.