Annabel woke up suffocating. Darkness surrounded her, and a mountain of weight was pressed down on her face and chest. She gasped for air, but none came – only the prickly smell of sweat and grunge. It was her own fault, she thought, right before losing consciousness – she hadn’t done laundry in two weeks.
See how easy it is to turn my neglect of household chores into a tale of terror for Annabel? AND I can tell Jason I can’t do laundry because I’m too busy writing, so it’s a win-win for me. Here, let’s try another:
Annabel was immediately attracted to Charlie. His spiky black hair, sprinkled with gray at the temples; his eyes, inky pools into his black soul. Everything about him screamed Vatican assassin warlock. She leaned in next to him at the bar.
“Whatcha drinking, soldier?” she purred.
“Tiger blood,” he growled, and she knew she was in love.
This little story was influenced by too many hours of Entertainment Tonight. I think it works, though.
If you’re afraid of being sued for libel, however, stick closer to home. What bothers you every day? Write about it!
The hot white pain in Annabel’s shoulder brought her to her knees. She tugged at the jagged teeth that were digging in to her collarbone, praying for release. This was the last time she would buy a bra from the clearance bin at Sav-a-Lot.
See? It’s not so hard. There are cranky salespeople, unpaid bills, and accident-causing skating rinks galore out there that you can turn in to horrifying tales of gore and mayhem.
Go now, grasshopper. I've taught you all you need to know.