Write On Wednesdays....Sunshine!

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 19 - Sunshine in a cup. Write the words of Emily Dickinson: "Bring me sunshine in a cup" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Don't take you pen off the page (or fingers off the keyboard). Stop only when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.


 




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The clouds formed an ominous blanket over the world, shrouding it in darkness.

The little girl stood on her front porch, her face turned skyward, drops of rain tapping gently on her visage. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened with surprise and then joy. She watched the sky with awe, her face creased into a wide smile. A smile of innocent beauty.

She darted inside, flushed with excitement;
'Mumma! Mumma! Come and see, come and see!' the child's voice reached a high and piercing note. Her Mother, busy with a small baby, smiled knowingly at her daughter. She silently wondered what the child could be excited about now. A fairy in the garden? An imagined unicorn? Maybe a mermaid in the swimming pool?
'What is it now sweetie?' said her Mother as she followed her toward the front of the house.

Then, she saw it too. A single ray of light breaking through the clouds. It sparkled, it shone, it shimmered. Her eyes followed its glowing path to the point where it suffused the world with warmth and light.

'Mumma' said the little girl, her voice hushed with wonder,
'It's an angel fallen from heaven'




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Write On Wednesdays.......A Ghost Story

This week for Write On Wednesday the theme was choose your own adventure. Now, technically I was supposed to go back, choose an activity from a previous week and do that....but I've been very naughty and I chose to write a little ghost story directed at my 8 year old daughter who is right at the age of loving to be scared by such things!

I hope no one minds too much that I deviated from the actual activity!

Hopefully blogger will let me comment on every post this week, and if not I'll attempt to email instead.

   

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 Her footsteps echoed loudly, announcing to anyone listening her presence. She

stopped just outside the closed door and placed her hand upon it. The wood was

unnaturally cold, she could feel the rough grain underneath her hand and it
grounded her. Mackenzie reached for the knob and turned it - the door opened easily - she stepped inside and looked around;

Although sunlight streamed through the open window, the room was oppressing

and cold. The chill seemed to seep from the floorboards, through Mackenzie’s
shoes, into her very bones. Mackenzie could sense the baleful influence that permeated the room making the hairs on her neck and arms prickle with fear.

‘Hello?’ She called out apprehensively, 'is anyone there?’.......the seconds ticked by
as she waited for some sort of response. She knew there was a presence in the room.... she could feel it.

Then she heard something, the soft sound of somebody weeping. Childlike and

feminine, Mackenzie instinctively knew that it was a young girl. The sound was

terrible; heartbroken, distressing, it tore at her soul.

‘Can you hear me? What’s wrong?’ she called out; the weeping then became louder.
‘I want to help you!’ Mackenzie cried as she looked around wildly. Suddenly the door behind her slammed shut; Mackenzie jumped with fright and whirled around. She reached out to open the door, fumbling in her fear and desperation. Panicking, Mackenzie tried desperately to turn the knob but it would not yield. Something had locked her in!

Then she realised the child was no longer weeping. Laughter filled the room,

malicious, spiteful laughter.

Head over to inkpaperpen to read some more adventures!

Write On Wednesdays......Little Girl.

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 15 - Give yourself some time to notice the people around you. The people who may cross your path each day. The lady in front of you at the supermarket, the man who helps the school kids cross the road, a neighbour, a waitress in a cafe, a librarian, anyone at all. Choose one person, someone you don't know, and this person will become the basis of the week's writing exercise. Describe this person as you see them, describe their surroundings. Then imagine a problem, create conflict for this person. Describe the conflict. Describe how your character deals with the problem. The conflict might resolve itself, it might not. It is up to you. Perhaps, the lady in the supermarket has forgotten her wallet. Does she bursts into tears? Maybe the librarian finds a lost child. The aim is to show how your character responds to conflict and in the process, reveal something about that character. Tell us their story.



When I read this week's prompt I was excited. I love people watching. And I love making up stories about people I watch. I've been doing it since I was a child. So this week's exercise? Right up my alley! I had chosen my 'subject' almost the moment I read the brief and had already made up a story about her in my mind. I pass this lady everyday on my morning run. She always has an air of incredible sadness. I had to write about her.

Now, I have been a little naughty and not followed the prompt exactly. I haven't described her surroundings much or her physical apperance, this story is all about the emotion.

So, what do you think?

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Her feet hit the pavement in a steady rhythm. Sweat dripped from her brow as she ran. Onwards into an exquisite and painful oblivion. She welcomed the solitude, the silence. For the moment it was just her...her and the long winding road. It stretched out before her like a ribbon; dark and tangled, caught in a little girl's hair.

Little girl.

She gulped, tears sprang to her eyes. A memory had joined her in isolation.

Little girl.

Images came dancing through her mind. Memories, moments, instances in time. Perfect. Beautiful.

Curls and ribbons and a sweet, smiling face. A giggle. Eyelashes tickling her cheek. A soft hand holding hers. A gentle cuddle. A soft body wrapped around hers. Sweetness and light.

Everday she ran; to try and forget, to bury the memories deep within herself. Everyday something small and insignificant would remind her.

Everyday she ran and everyday she dreamt about her.......

Little girl,
Her little girl,
Gone forever.


Visit inkpaperpen for Write On Wednesdays.

Write On Wednesdays.....Dancing.

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 13 - A Great One Liner...This week you need to come up with one good line to describe a part of your day. It can be 'real life' or fiction. But it must tell us 'who did what'. It has to be an amazing line, like a tiny little paper plane that must travel a big distance (figuratively speaking) with only a few folds ... Every word in that line must earn its place, or be cut as excess baggage. Let's get thinking about each sentence as though every word counts, like working one group of muscles to show how much weight they can carry.

First of all, I would like to thank everybody for their feedback about the last exercise. I'm glad that it came across the way I intended it. I'm not usually a dark person but this was one of my lowest moments....that is why I felt compelled to write about it.

After the emotionally charged atmosphere that was last week. I was hoping to lighten things up a bit this week.

So, here I go with my one-liner....I hope I've got this right!

Image thanks to weheartit.com

'She danced along the edge of his memory, teasing, promising, but always slightly out of reach.'

If you love writing, pop over to visit Gill at InkPaperPen for Write On Wednesdays....



I'm Just a Girl......

Image from weheartit.com

This morning despite the usual rush and chaos that ensues on a typical Monday morning, I did manage to notice that once again my car tyre was looking despondently flat.

I say 'once again' because it's about the fourth time in the last week that Hubby has dragged out the compressor and pumped the damn thing up.

Now, I can hear quite clearly what you are thinking. What doesn't she get the thing fixed? Driving around with a flat tyre isn't the smartest thing in the world. Surely this girl has some semblance of common sense?

I was of course well aware of what needed to be done. But once again, I was doing what I always do when something needs fixing. I played my 'helpless female' card. The card I play way too often. The card I play when  I really don't want to know. Or I simply can't be bothered. Or I more commonly than not think "Hubby can do it'

Shameful isn't it?

'Darling' I coo, with a flutter of my eyelashes. 'Can you get my tyre fixed for me?'
'Sweetie' I breathe in my sultriest voice, 'Can you take the car down to get petrol?'
'Honey' I titter, with a girly flick of my hair 'Can you fix the clothes line/ washing machine/ Mr 5's remote control car...etc etc'

I avoid mowing the lawn. I escape from trips to the tip. If there is any 'grunt work' to be done I'll elegantly skip into the kitchen and bake some scones.

And, if it's something that really, really needs to be done and I really, really don't want to know I'll do something that I'm not entirely proud of. Something that works a treat every time.

I'll turn on the tears.

I have no excuse for being this way. None at all. I grew up in a completely feminist household. My Dad was the only male amongst my sisters, my Mother and I. My Mum taught us that we could do anything. She is and always has been the ultimate go getter. Diminutive, eloquent and very, very tough.

I was bought up learning all sorts of skills that I doubt girls that I was friends with would have learnt. One of my earliest memories was of slaughtering a 'pet' lamb to roast on the spit. My sisters and I were expected to help...and help we did. We thought nothing of it, it was part of life. Another was our before school job of checking the possum traps (in NZ they are considered a pest) and subsequently the 'disposal' of any captured possums we may have encountered.

Girls are tough. That was our childhood motto. A motto I seem to have forgotten lately. A motto that I need to rediscover and teach to my spirited and independent daughters.

Even my name means 'strong little woman'....it's about time I started living up to it.

Remembering.......

I remember.....

The layers of blankets are pulled up over my head. I am snuggled down, as far down the bed as I can go. My skinny legs tucked up into my stomach, my hands are over my ears, my eyes are tightly closed.

It is cold in my room, but I'm not hiding from the cold...I'm hiding from the thing...the thing in my room. I know it's there like it has been every night, hiding in the corner, waiting and watching. Waiting for me....8 years old...skinny, shy and afraid.

Although my ears are covered by my hands I can still hear every little sound as though it's amplified a hundred times. The trees moving outside, the tap dripping in the bathroom, my sister snoring softly in the bed next to mine and I fancy I can hear the thing...moving around my room, looking for me.


What will happen when it finds me, I wonder. Will it steal me away from my parents? Will it turn me into a thing just like it? My frenzied and over-active brain comes up with several different scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.....sleep is fruitless.

Above is this weeks exercise for 'Write On Wednesday' (Oops! I'm a day late..sorry!)
The brief was to write "I remember' at the top of the page, set a timer for 5 minutes and then write....

This memory is very clear for me still. A few weeks beforehand, I had snuck out into the lounge and watched from behind the couch a movie my parents were viewing..... 'Poltergeist.' The result of my late night wanderings? Several weeks of nightmares and terrified huddling at the foot of my bed! I certainly learnt my lesson and still cannot watch a scary movie to this day!