Writing Prompt: His face was red with suppressed rage.

Good morning all I hope you are having a fantastic day. Yesterday, I liked the prompt I came up with so much that I ended up writing an extra hour on it after I finished with my other tasks for the day. I think it is going to shape up to be a pretty good little story. I always love when that happens. It is the extra perk of having the cache of writing prompts saved. I don’t know how many of you ae writing along with me, but if you are, if you are writing by hand, I would recommend keeping the prompts together in a notebook so you can flick through them easily. If typing then I’d suggest a file. Also for the ease of flicking through. Sometimes, like yesterday it will make a great story on it’s own. Sometimes you can pull a new character for another story, or add a subplot, or a scene set up. Other times they are useless its of mental clearing, but every now and again, they can be useful in and of themselves and not just as a way to wake up the brain. Shall we see what this morning’s prompt will be? Good. Timers at the ready then, and off we go.

This one has potential. I think I’d have to figure out what the political scandal or reason for leaving office is before I delve too deeply into it though. But I like the idea of a story set around a household having to deal with a formerly important person who has no where but the home to feel important in anymore. It naturally sets itself up for a showdown and could be a discussion of the nature of power as well. But that is a thought for another time. For now I’ll just book mark this with the title ‘a potentially good idea’ and set it aside.

Thursday, November 18th: His face went red with suppressed rage.

His face went red with suppressed rage.  I backed away slowly, not wanting to be the trigger that called the rage forth and forced an eruption.  It was a slow and steady draw no attention move. He was looking in the other direction. My view of him in the mirror was from the side.  This far his eyes hadn’t flicked towards me.  I was only a few steps into the room.  Slowly I took those steps back,

I reached the middle of the door surround, and still his sight turned inward, his eyes glaring out of the window.  I felt the flooring change beneath my feet and I knew I was standing in the hall.  I took a step to the side, easing myself out of view.  I saw him start to turn and hustled myself completely out of view, my pace increasing once I was out of sight from within the room.

If he came into the hallway, I didn’t want him to spot my retreat.  I looked at the doorways I passed and didn’t want to be caught in one of the nearby rooms.  When he was in this sort of mood, there was no telling what would happen. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  I knew what would happen, not the details, those were always different, but the general gist of it.  I reached the door to the stairwell and ducked inside.  I began climbing. 

Would the second floor be too obvious a location to find me?  Possibly.  ‘Third floor,’  I decided.  There were items I still needed to sort there, files I had been meaning to get to and yet hadn’t.  It was the perfect excuse.  I wasn’t hiding, I was working.

I kept going until I reached the third floor.  I exited the stairwell making certain the door closed softly behind me so there was no echoing slam back down the stairwell.  I went straight to the room where my files were located and didn’t stop until I was inside, the door closed behind me.  Only then did I allow myself a second’s reprieve. 

Douglas’ anger was legendary.  He was known for it and for putting it to good use.  He turned it against the injustices he was fighting against.  He turned it against political opponents.  He turned it against corruption.  And people loved him for it. 

But his time in the public eye was over.  It was over, not because he chose it to be over, but because circumstances beyond his control forced him to acknowledge its end.  Douglas never liked admitting anything was beyond his control.  Being forced to do so now, was not something he was taking well.  In addition, even though he had no more political opponents to turn his ire upon, his notable anger was still there. 

These days it flared hot and burned any within its radius regardless of what set it off.  After a life time of using it as his greatest weapon and most oft used tool, Douglas saw no need to set it aside.  It was something that would need to change, but it was also something he did not want to discuss. 

It was beginning to make life difficult.

‘Well, more difficult,’ I thought.  I looked down at the paper I held.  It was the reason I went in search of him.  I didn’t know what set him off this time.  It could be a legitimate anger inducing event or it could be that he went for a cup of coffee in the kitchen and found the pot empty. Anything could set him off. 

‘This isn’t going to make things better,’ I thought.  I knew the information on the page I held was likely to cause a rage on it’s own.  I hoped to find him in a placid mood, slip him the letter saying it just came in and be gone before his rage rose.  Finding him already enraged hindered my plan. 

‘Still, it needs to be dealt with.’

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