[Fiction] Friday #107 « Write Anything

[Fiction] Friday Challenge for June 5th, 2009:

“Don’t sit there,” she commanded. “That’s the cat’s chair.”

She set the table early that morning already, and spent the rest of the day preparing. Fairy cakes and Lady Fingers, small Swiss Rolls and coconut ice, carefully placed on small plates with a delicate pale pink rose border. Every few minutes she would glance at the clock above the fridge, push her hair back and work faster.

The small hand approached the four when she put the final touches on the table: a small bouquet of pale pink roses - to match the pattern on the crockery - pink crystals in the sugar and small silver forks next to each plate.

She pointed her finger and counted every seat slowly again “One, two, three, four, five, six.” She counted the numbers on her fingers again, tongue peeking out the side of her mouth, and nodded. She looked at the clock again. The big hand was almost touching the twelve.

“He’s going to be here soon,” she said, and rushed to her bedroom. She put on her favourite dress and twirled in front of the mirror. She brushed her long brown hair, and put lip gloss on her lips. She twirled in front of the mirror again when she heard the sound of the wheels on the gravel.

“He’s home,” she said and giggled. She ran to the door, and gave him a hug as he opened the door. He laughed as he freed himself from her octopus grip, she grabbed his hand instead and started pulling him towards the dining room.

“Are you having a party,” he asked.

“No, we are,” she said, pushing out her chin defiantly. “Come, sit down,” she said and pushed him towards a chair at the head of the small table. He pulled out the chair closest to him, but she shook her head and said “No, not that one, that one’s for Molly.” She picked up the rag doll by her hair and put her down on the chair a little roughly.

He smiled patiently and pulled out another. He liked playing this game with her.

“Don’t sit there,” she commanded. “That’s the cat’s chair. Here, ” she said, dragging him by the hand, “this is your chair. Silly dad.”

He laughed and sat down. “This looks lovely,” he said.

She smiled sweetly and said “Tea?”

Writing prompt – Medical Mews

My daughter and I are both working on stories, using the words Medical Mews as our prompt. We have set a deadline for Saturday 14 March 2009.

If you would like to participate, write a story or poem, or create a picture, using the words Medical Mews as your inspiration, and post it to your blog/facebook/twitter/myspace/yourstomach and let us know where we can see what you made of this by leaving a comment on this entry.

I will post both my effort and my daughter’s on Sunday, 15 March 2009.

License to kill

Quote of the Day:
In life, as in chess, forethought wins.
--Charles Buxton

I am getting so much better at the showing rather than telling thing. I suspect I am going to have to work through The Novel one more time before I send it off, because there are a couple of things in earlier chapters that need some fixing.

There are 4 or so chapters left to write. The end is in sight, and it is a good feeling. If I can set a target and keep to it every week like I did for this week, I can wrap this up and move onto other things

Of course, the second book in the series is on my list of things I want to write, but I also have an idea for a short story (possibly), and I would like to play with darker themes. I need to learn to kill of someone I like, so I will probably write something short to practice soon.

Merlot moments

"When I was a young boy," he said, his white-flecked eyes matching the sea behind him, "we lived close to the race course." For a moment, the lines on his face disappeared, and the face smiling back to me over the flickering candles, while still recognisable, was 52 years younger. "And you know, back in those days, the stables were between the houses. We knew the horses by their real names," he winked at me.

When he told his stories, we would all huddle around the table, wrap the blankets a little tighter and ignore the chill in the breeze blowing off the sea. These are not stories you want to hear sitting like ducks in a row on a couch. These were wine-drinking, good food, sea in the background stories.

Of course, over the years, we have heard some of the stories multiple times. After doing this for well over 40 years as a group, some repetition was to be expected. And over the years he has added slight variations - whether it was on purpose, or due to a faltering memory, we weren't sure, but we were all grateful nonetheless.

"Every Saturday, we would wait outside the race course, and all these old men would come for real tips. We would just point to the horses that would win, and, afterwards, they would reward us with treats: shoes, sweets, toys. I still have the red wooden train from the day old man Gibbons won big." This at least we knew to be true.

It was the piece he kept locked behind glass, along with all his other trophies: a piece of Hendrix's Fender - the first one he ever smashed - a bowler he swore Sellers wore once - and he stole off set personally -  Monroe's scarf, Bardot's sunglasses. Relics of a distant past. Strings that tie us all together, and, as a group, to a time we all remember with rose-tinted clarity.

Fear of Friday's taste leads to the dark side

I always imagined Friday to be chocolate flavoured. Monday is lemon. I am sure Autumn tastes like warm apple pie, while Summer is all mango.

Writing exercise: Six Words

Taking my queue from And as the world turns I would like to attempt both a story in six words and the memoir in six words meme.

Brevity has never been my strong suite. I often ran out of paper during the creative writing portion of my exams while at school, and I still struggle to be brief - although, with doing a lot of technical writing, I have learnt to be more to the point.

First, a story. In Six words. (hey that was six words, yay me)

Starry sky, small hand in mine.

or

Power's out. No dialtone. He's here.

This is fun, I can do it all day. Maybe not. My husband's contribution to this exercise is:

You sow? Does your mother know?

And, in conversation with my daughter:

Don't get sidetracked by the cuteness

Now, onto the meme. First of all, the rules for the meme:

1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
3. Link to the person who tagged you in your post.
4. Tag five more blogs with links.
5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

I will not tag anyone, but would like to invite everyone to play with :)

And, in a nutshell, I think this is me:

Too much sehnsucht, not enough time.

Writing exercise: At the market

He grinned at me, revealing two lonely teeth, and said “Hai, madam, dat’s daylight robbery, dat is? An' anyway, this one's alreddy promised to another lady.”

He grinned again. I could smell the sea on his breath.

“Ok,” I replied, “I will give you five bucks for that one”, pointing at the still flapping fish in his basket. It wasn't quite the yellow tail I wanted, but it would still make a good meal.

“Hai, madam, a man has t'live, y’know.”

I knew I was offering too little, but I was told to bargain with them. Cassandra told me she picked up crayfish from here for next to nothing last week. I pretend to reconsider my offer, knowing full well that I should be paying twenty rand for this beautiful fish.

“Ok, how about ten bucks?”

Indignation flashed across his brown, wrinkled face.

“Hai, madam, joo trying to rob me blind” he said, rolling his Rs more than usual. I knew he had a family to feed, but I couldn't deny that I did derive a small amount of pleasure from toying with him like this.

“I tell joo,” he said, “give me fifty bob, and I give you this snoek and that crayfish. Look, madam, it's a naais big one, all the ladies will be jealous.” He flashed another grin.

I tossed my blonde hair back over my shoulder, pulled myself up to proper posture, sniffed, and said, “All right, you win. But next week, I want a yellow tail. And you will give me a good deal, because now, you know me.”