Modeled after Giovanni Boccaccio's classic from the 14th Century, this collection similarly brought 100+ short stories to Wattpad readers. The original's premise was simple: ten individuals entertained themselves over a span of ten days by telling a...
The Wattpad HQ Team is stuck in Toronto while the ten organizer of Wattcon Syracuse wait out the storm in Carousel Mall. We are looking for some sign that anyone here is a Wattpad member attending the event. Nobody is, it's just us. What started off as a couple inches of snow, quickly turned into an onslaught of furious white flakes, and not a single person aside from us was able to make it. Ten minutes later a voice on the intercom announces the closing of the mall and mandatory evacuations. Of course we have to wait on Sally Mason and Talia to finish up whatever they are doing in the bathroom before we can leave. The security guard is all but forcing us out the door as we shout for the girls to hurry up.
With the glass elevator doors in-sight, our nice warm beds in the suites above the mall are all I am able to think about. The security guard hits the button, but the doors won't open. He taps it a couple more times. Nothing. Radioing to another guard, he walks off, leaving us wondering what to do next.
Karim runs to check the stairs. "Under construction." He scratches his head for another solution.
As we begin to realize that we are actually trapped in the mall, the power goes out.
"We can't be stuck! We're all gonna die!" Talia screams.
We try to comfort her as as she takes a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Walking together, we make it to an outdoor sports store and sit around a campfire display between the fishing equipment and a giant trampoline. Ali Novak has her phone out, searching for a signal so she can call her family. No signal.
The storm outside must have knocked down the closest cell tower.
Talia stands up, scanning the room with her legs crossed, performing some sort of bathroom dance. Noticing the large sign across the mall, she makes an awkward jog,
"I'll be right back!" she shouts.
Suddenly, Shaun rubs his hands together as if the feux-fire would warm him up.
"How about some stories?" he asks with an awkward smile on his face. His british accent makes it hard to take him seriously. But he takes a deep breath and starts reciting a story with a grimacing smile on his face.
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The storm raged. That's what storms did, didn't they? Raged? You never had a calm storm. One which played a little chess or drank coffee between throwing gusts of wind, flurries of snow and splatters of rain again the people and buildings below. No. They always raged.
There was the calm before the storm, but that was just the lull of false security to make the fury that much more effective. The barrage was as if the wind suffered from anger management issues and someone had left the top off the milk and forgot to put it back in the fridge. The windows shook in fear and even the building itself showed a nervous shudder every so often.
The group huddled down. The heating had failed hours before and the breath left their bodies in ethereal wisps looking like their spirits searching for the hereafter in the chill air of the store. Even with the fort constructed from pillows and blankets, held up by cabinets and chairs dragged to the centre of the room, they shivered together.
