The day began wet, leaking down tiled roofs and meeting in puddles wherever the soil failed to direct it away. Days of rain threatened the porous pages of the books stacked upon my bedside table. In cool corners moisture gathered emboldening silent mould. It began in polka dots dancing widely greedily capturing real estate and threatening my lungs if not kept under control.

I was intending to branch this out so that you would look above the trees and see an old castle, soaked with the grey of the a dull sky. I thought of the rain in Britain and hoped to instil a place and time in this story. Alas, 5 minutes is only so much time.

If I were to review my writing above, I would change the second line. “Days of rain threatened the porous pages stacked upon the beside table. Unread novels stacked with confidence but dusted by time. A relic of motivation long past." Something that didn't bring the first person into the story so quickly. I prefer it to come in at the end  at “threatening my lungs” so you are in the space before this character's viewpoint takes over. 

Who knows what would come of it! This is an unedited 5 minute write and the above a 1-minute reshuffle. I wonder how long it would actually take to rehash the whole ideal and let it spill out into a larger story? How many re-edits? How thrilling!