Today we're going back to: continuations.
If you've written something recently - either here or elsewhere - that felt incomplete, feel free to carry on from where you left off. If nothing comes to mind, you're always welcome to continue on from where I finish.
I've chosen to continue my scene from yesterday.
He grunts in response and shuffles toward the fire in a crouch, his fingertips brushing against the cave floor. He studies me for a moment without blinking and then turns his attention to the flames. I decide to try again.
"Dad? It's me, Mitch. Are you okay?"
I watch my father as he sniffs the air, his head angling upward and cocked to one side. He closes his eyes and goes perfectly still, then suddenly whirls and scrambles out of the cave on all fours.
My feet feel like they've grown roots as I stare out into the night. It's a struggle to get air in and out of my lungs. Thoughts refuse to gather in any semblance of order. Finally the words that I've been pushing away squeeze between my lips.
"Oh no... he's been infected."