Day 1 —Select a book at random in the room. Find a novel or short story, copy down the last sentence and use this line as the first line of your new story.
Well, once again things were happening in the Comstock family. Once again, tea was steeping on the stove, chatter amongst the group had begun, and I was sitting on the balcony, cigarette burning in one hand as I rolled the burning paper in the ashtray by my side, peering out at the city illuminated by buildings, bridges, and passing cars; illuminated so that a flood of fluorescent light promoted a city of night owls and insomniacs. My family wasn’t a family so much as we were a group of people with similar interests and beliefs. We called ourselves the Comstock family because we lived on Comstock Lane; well, above Comstock Lane. In my high rise condo overlooking the mountains and rivers, that were currently being enveloped in a translucent fog, I swore I could feel one more chapter of my life end. The past four days had been spent in a mountain of agony and emotional torment. I had said little but felt more than I should. It was a simple problem, really, and had nothing to directly do with me, but there were secrets involved that one did not confess to during times of high tension. When already volatile emotions were present, adding one more element is the last concept one would deem to be necessary. The night, it was a time for reflection. And I do that well. In my lounge chair, on the balcony, I was untouchable above the city. The secrets, which encompassed my thoughts, began to fade as I watched my family inside smiling, laughing, being at total peace with each other. Who was I to corrupt this perfect image? I had sought so long for a family like this and my own desire to retain that which I had fought so hard for, turned my guilty conscience into nothing more than a voice in the back of my mind. It mattered not what I had done, or what I would do, or who I would be doing it with, just so long as I could remain inside of this moment as long as possible. They called for me to come back in. It was cold out they said. Nevermind I was barely dressed. I would join them as I always did. I would love them, and they would love me. And nothing else mattered. I rolled out my cigarette into the glass ashtray and blew the smoke into the white mist below.