Water peppered the windshield blocking sight of the road.
“Stupid sprinklers.” Alexander growled and tapped the wipers.
The Corolla lurched forward rattling his teeth as it bounced through a sea of green grass.
“What in the world….” Alexander slammed on the brakes. When the car rumbled to a stop, he leaned over the steering wheel and slowly removed his glasses.
Gone was the pavement of Lake Mary Boulevard. In fact, not an ounce of asphalt could be seen in the bright green field that stretched for what seemed like miles in every direction.
His stomach churned as he twisted behind him for any sign of the world he knew. “Holy sprinkler of doom….where am I?”
Silly, I know. And not great writing. But it’s what popped into my head when this massive wall of water blocked my vision on the way home from work today. What if sprinkler water had the ability to cause time travel if it hit the windshield in just the right way?
Maybe everyone thinks like this. But from my observation, writers see the world differently than everyone else.
Everything is a story. Especially for us speculative folks.
Most of my ideas have started this simply. Something odd happens, and it’s coupled with an out-there thought.
So, tell me. Am I alone in this? Any writers want to lend a brother some support?