The lamp wouldn't turn on. And he hated the dark. Always had. Kind of a rare phobia.
He tried again, but of course it didn't work any better the first time. Could be the tagline to a life, he thought.
Nothing for it then but to head out. The room was familiar, the door should be...that chair wasn't there before, but the floor - the floor was right where it always had been.
Ok, hands and knees then. Slide along, feel the wall, aha! Doorjamb, doorknob, turn, swing, hallway. A little ambient light from outside. Feel along the wall -...
She flipped the switch as she came through the door, but nothing happened.
"Damn" she sighed and set down the grocery bags. Walking carefully through the room she tried the lamp by the couch, still nothing. "ugh" She was really getting a little scared now. She continued into the kitchen, trying all the switches there was, but no light came on. She was headed for the back door and the flash light that was kept there when suddenly all the lights in the house went on.
"Surprise!" She screamed and laughed and cried at the same time.
"oh, God, you...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. That was really the least of his problems. It meant the electricity had finally been turned off. So had the water, the cable, and the gas. At least they had waited until the spring. It was warm enough to not risk freezing that night.
Jacob wondered through his house, filled with useless possessions. He touched the television and the fridge as he walked by them, exiting the house and into the beautiful April morning.
The birds were chirping and a steady drone of cars racing down the highway filled his ears. He took a deep...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. This was no surprise considering the power was out all over the city; still, Harold tried anyway, just out of habit. Upon defeat, he turned around and headed down the hall to the kitchen, where the Drawer of Random Stuff resided.
He reached in and grabbed the flashlight, but knew this was futile since buying batteries for it was something on his perpetually procrastinated to-do list, so he did what countless others do when they grab a flashlight that is more than likely dead--he flicked the switch and shook the electric torch furiously, just hoping...
Public Service Announcement (this has no relation to the prompt): When Hemingway (I think, but it doesn't really matter) said, "Write what you know," it was a critique of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who had said, "Write what you don't know." In other words, it would be like me saying, "You are therefore you think." It may or may not be true, but it was a critique of an idea that had been set in stone and codified. Codifying that idea, in turn, defeats the purpose.
To be more succinct, When I hear, "Write what you know," I reach for my...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. He thought it might be the bulb, so he unscrewed it and got a sixty volt shock that made his whole body shake until he dropped the lamp. He wouldn't do that again.
The lamp wouldn't turn on. He clicked it once, and twice. He tapped the bare bulb, once he'd removed the lampshade. He followed the cord down to the wall and unplugged and plugged it back in.
He dug in the drawer in the kitchen and found a new bulb but it didn't fit, so he dug some more and found another, smaller bulb and it did fit but still the damned lamp wouldn't turn on.
At the power box, he switched the breaker, killing the power for a moment to the living room, setting the VCR back to high noon....
The lamp wouldn't turn on. Off, yes. around, yes. But on, absolutely not. No matter how many times he flipped the switch, no matter how many times he prodded it, shook it, swung it over his head, he could not get it to turn on. He decided to coax it. First he offered it things that humans like: chocolate, love and affection, sex. The lamp did not budge. Then he offered it things that his cat liked: mackerel, catnip, a laser. Nothing. He tried reasoning with it, but the lamp was dead to his entreaties. Look, he explained, you staying...
Elaine stopped dead in her tracks. She had just fixed the bulb this morning, it couldn't already be...
The sound of the back screen door swinging stopped her heart. A wave of panic went through her and she just knew she wasn't alone anymore. But maybe they (or he, or she) had just left. Except she didn't hear any footsteps.
Her bedroom door was locked. The handle jiggled, then a voice; "Larry it's friggin' locked!" "Fuck," Joe yelled. "It fuckin' can't be locked!"
Elaine started turning around; her cell phone was in her car in the driveway.
The kitchen light...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. Andrew wasn't sure whether the power had gone out, or whether it was just the bulb -- these silly bulbs were always coming from the closet and going into the trashcan -- but he flicked the switch back in the off position and headed for the hallway. Rounding the corner out of the closet, he could see no light under the crack at the base of the door.
"Goddamn," he thought aloud, and thundered down two flights of steps to the basement, where his lighter illuminated the breaker panel. None of the switches were tripped,...