A gentle summer breeze flows through the open window, cooling my heated face as I bend over the stove, stirring the risotto furiously. At least, it is supposed to be risotto. Currently it looks like chicken and rice soup, but the recipe says to keep stirring it, so I am stirring it. A knock sounds at the front door. Oh good. That should be my package from Amazon. I keep stirring the rice. Than another knock sounds, louder than before. Maybe it’s not just a delivery. Who could be at the door? I don’t know any one in the area yet.
I glance down at my risotto, torn between ignoring whoever is at the door and answering it, risking ruining my dinner. The watery mess in the pot convinces me, and I turn off the heat, wipe my hands on my apron, and go open the front door.
Finish the story however you want! You can finish it in one sentence or in anything less than 500 words.
Have fun, and happy writing!
Whoever is at the door starts pounding on it again. I grab the door knob and turn it, yanking open the door. There in front of me stands – a fireman.
“How may I help you, ma’am?” asks the fireman. He had the regular black and yellow uniform and a little tag on his shirt tells me that he is an EMT. His face is relatively young.
“Um, I didn’t call…” I reply. The fireman looks a little embarrassed and turns away to leave when his funny little nose sniffs a couple times.
“I smell smoke,” he said, wondering out loud. He comes inside without me allowing him to, and I see, to my horror, that the risotto is burning, in fact, flames are licking at the edges of the pot. I’m furious with myself.
The EMT pulls a hose up – I hadn’t seen it, but he had dragged it in along behind him. He presses the button on the hose and sprays water all over my kitchen!
“It’s alright, ma’am, nothin’ to be afraid of.” I’m shocked. The young firefighter keeps the hose blasting water in a concentrating stream at my watery pot of risotto, increasing the volume in the pot until it overflows and water spills all over the floor. It spreads on the floor of the kitchen and reaches the living room carpet, soaking it with a drab beige color.
“What on earth are you doing?” I ask incredulously.
“Just doin’ my job, ma’am,” the firefighter answers.
I grab his shirt vigorously and he turns the water off. I point at the door. “Out!” I shout at him. “Get out. I don’t even no why you’re here.”
The young man wears a puzzled expression on his face and drags his feet out the door. I angrily slam it after him and turn back to the kitchen to clean up the mess.
Outside, the firefighter returns to his truck muttering to himself. “Whoops,” he says before climbing into his truck. “Whoops.”
How fun! Great story, Oliver! Thank you for posting.
I opened the creaky door and looked around to the left and right, seeing no one. I closed the door and thought. Opening the door again, I checked the two directions that I had not tried before: up and down.
On the doorstep was an Amazon package. I picked up the box and noticed that it was open, but still felt puzzled about the knocking I had heard. I looked in the package and saw a robotic arm!
The arm reached out of the box and knocked on my forehead like I was a door. Then it waved as if to say hello.
Forgetting my dinner, I returned the strange box to the post office, saying, “Excuse me, this is not mine.”
“What is it?” the lady asked me.
“An arm.”