I think the issue that I’ve had with these restrictions is that they lacked something. Some kind of personality, I think. They’re very generic, so they informed the story less than they could have done. Any one would have been all right, but the combination of all of them together caused the collective to fall short.
Anyway, if you want to contribute more exciting restrictions for the future, you can do so here.
Title: Dice Bag
Premise: A person wakes up one day and everybody else on the planet is gone.
Dialogue: “I love the way you look, covered in glue.”
Technical: Has to be written in 2nd Person.
Dice Bag
When you woke up that day, everything seemed normal. The beautiful summer sun was shining through your window, bathing you in its warm glow. The birds outside were chirping and chasing each other round the garden. How were you to know?
You went downstairs. There was a bit of a mess down there. Your dog got into the craft supplies again, and he was sitting by the stairs, with that stupid, lovable doggy grin, the contents of a pot of PVA coating his head and shoulders.
“I love the way you look, covered in glue,” you said. “But maybe we should get you cleaned up.”
You carried the dumb mutt back upstairs and threw him in the shower. He’d never enjoyed those, but you trained him well, and he stayed long enough to get rid of all the glue. Didn’t stop him shaking himself off the moment the shower turned off, though.
By the time you had dried yourself off and gone back downstairs, you were running late. You should have noticed that no one called to see where you were, but you didn’t. You did, however, notice the dice bag sitting on your kitchen table. It was odd – you’d never seen it before and had no idea where it came from. Still, as you sat there, eating your jam toast and feeling strangely compelled by the bag, you weren’t yet impressionable enough to go for it. Who’d have thought that you, of all people, would have held out until the last.
You were halfway to work before you noticed. Everywhere you looked, as your car skirted roundabouts and rolled past the shops. Not a single person in sight. Not in the shops, no other cars driving on the road. Nobody.
If you hadn’t been so close to work, you might have turned around. Gone back home, checked the television. But you were almost there, and couldn’t help but to ask: surely there must be someone around?
The building was just as dead as everywhere else you’d seen. No one there, no sign, even. You wandered aimlessly through the building, checking room after room, until your meanderings led you, by sheer force of habit, to your desk.
On your desk, you saw a dice bag. It looked like the same dice bag that was on your kitchen table, but it couldn’t be, surely. No one was around to have brought it to your workplace.
But something deep inside, in your gut, told you it was the same dice bag. The same thing inside that was compelling you to reach out and touch it.
Hesitantly, you reached out, and touched it, and POP! You were gone from there.
And you arrived here.