C. N. Garraway

Write this scene:
You are having a peaceful dinner at a restaurant when bullets start flying, and one shatters the glass you pick up to drink.

My Response

Crab Envy

Marvelle, New Jersey
April 10, 2026 — 6:00 PM

Sharon’s food had just arrived. She was pleased because she was starving after skipping lunch. Her stomach rumbled. She took the hint and dug into her shrimp and crab pasta with broccoli. It was her favorite. The creamy sauce and the spiciness that lingered on her tongue were heaven. She picked up the glass to wash away the burn on her tongue.

A bullet flew past her.

Another bullet tore through her glass, shattering it in her hand.

She screamed.

People were running and ducking for cover. Sharon sat there and kept screaming, shaking. Her left hand was bloody. Another bullet whizzed past her ear, pushing her into action. She slid under the table. Her heart raced.

Chairs thumped as they hit the floor. Babies crying. Screams. More cries. Glass shattering everywhere.

Sharon had to get to safety.

How many shooters were there?

She couldn’t stay put, or she would be dead for sure.

Two tables down, a few people were hit, and the shooter was pointing a gun at the man on the floor. He was pleading for his life. She slowly crawled to the edge of the table entrance. Bullets were still flying, and more people were dropping. The shooter wasn’t in her area, but he wasn’t far.

She pushed forward from underneath the table.

Two overturned chairs blocked her path. Sharon crawled around them, but it still felt miles away.

A little further.

Listening for footsteps, she spotted the side of the bar at the end of the aisle. She finally managed to reach the bar.

The bartender was leaning against it, holding his abdomen. He was shaking. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The blood was spreading through his blue shirt. She wasn’t sure if he’d survive.

She took her top off and tried to rip it. She kept pulling and pulling until the shirt finally gave way. She wrapped it around his abdomen and tied it.

“This should help. Stay alive.”

She inched behind the bar. There were still bottles of liquor that hadn’t been hit. She grabbed two. She struggled to hold the bottles in her hands as she rose.

Sharon spotted a shooter with his back to her. Another one was further across the room, firing.

She jumped and lunged forward, slamming both bottles of liquor against the sides of his head.

The shooter dropped to the floor as the shards hit her face. Blood trickled down her face. A burning sensation formed in her abdomen, and she fell back into the shelf.

She heard another body drop and sirens in the distance. Her breath slowed, and the pain was fading.

“Stay with me,” a male said, lightly slapping her face.

Her eyes slowly opened as her ex’s face came into view.

No, that can’t be. He was supposed to be in Japan.

Her vision flickered in and out of focus.

“Hanson…”

Then blackness claimed her.

Your Turn

How would you write this scene?

• Who is your main character?
• Do they fight back, hide, or escape?
• What changes for them after this moment?

Drop your version in the comments or share your blog post—I’d love to read it.