Day 28

Start writing a story that…

Step 1: takes place in an island

Step 2: include a dialogue that begins with: You broke it!

Step 3: add a character who travels by boat
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They arrived on the island by helicopter. As it touched down in the grassy clearing 50 yards from the palatial estate, they were instructed to lower their heads and run past the rotors to a stone walkway, where they would await further instructions. Mabel clutched her purse and stumbled out after the other two interns, who descended first and charged toward the walkway. As she began running after them, Mabel felt her heel catch in some mud, and she was forced to stop to try to yank it out. Four hearty tugs later and she was free, limping toward the walkway where the others were waiting.

"You broke it!" Amy said, pointing at Mabel's heel.

"I'll be fine," Mabel said, brushing the dirt off of what remained of her shoe.

"You look like shit," Carly said.

Mabel ignored her. A little soft ground and some bitchy competition was not going to keep her from the professional opportunity of a lifetime. They all stood silently. Waiting.

Mabel took in her surroundings. She didn't do it out of boredom or interest in the beauty that was around her, although, had she looked at it objectively, she would have noticed the spectacular view that the stone walkway afforded them. To their right where the helicopter landed, lay a field of wild grasses and flowers, brightly lit by the early afternoon sun. Mabel scanned it for poison ivy or other potential irritants. Good to be prepared.

To their left stood the famous 30-room estate where Gladys Isaacson spent her summers. The building had three floors and a large entrance framed by Grecian columns. The entire facade was painted a dazzling white that not only shone in the sun, but glowed so brightly that Mabel could not look at it without her sunglasses. She counted the windows as best she could, trying to make an educated guess about the interior layout.

In the distance, a motor could be heard and the three young women turned toward the sound. It was coming from the bay directly across from them. At first they could only see small whitecaps crashing against the rocks many yards below. But then a boat came into view. It seemed small at first, but as it approached it became evident that this was Gladys Isaacson's yacht, and standing at the bow, with her short white hair barely moving in the pummeling wind, stood Gladys Isaacson herself.