Jan 12 2009
Word Shot – 12 January, 2008
The submissions for last week’s Word Shot – the one with the police in riot gear – were wonderful. One made me laugh out loud. A few others were chilling. All were interesting. I hope you’ll read them. Just click here. As always, my thanks to those of you who participated.
Here’ the photo for this week’s writing exercise:
An image like this should trigger all sorts of imaginative thoughts and ideas. Write them down and submit them as a comment below. Grow your imagination as you hone your writing skills. That’s what these exercises are all about.
And please remember that I’m offering a bribe: Once you have participated in 10 Word Shots, e-mail me to let me know and I’ll e-mail you all three of my writing skills e-manuals.
Let’s hear from you. Happy writing!
She came there first when she was 10. She missed Granddad, and the shock of the funeral hadn’t gone away. She told her Mum how much she wished she’d had time to say, how much she wanted one more goodbye. And her Mum, maybe slightly thoughtlessly, had told her to tell him herself.
So she came and she sat and she poured her heart out. And she felt better. When the next Sunday rolled around, she went there again. She felt closure. She stopped.
Sometime later, she heard boys saying things about her; crude, rude, unrepeatable things. She felt confused again, so she went back. Not to see Granddad; no one talks to their Grandparents about [i]that[/i]. Just anyone. She found someone young; older, but just a year or two. And she sounded herself. More closure. Felt better.
She didn’t know what was going to happen tonight. Well, she did, but she didn’t, get me? She hoped, and she had ideas, but that’s exactly what they were. So she went again. It wasn’t praying; that was completely the wrong image, both for her and them. But she wanted someone to wish her luck.
She wanted closure.
It had the look of a video game, but this was only too real. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I entered hallowed ground.
As dawn’s slumberous light peeked through the ruins of the old abbey, casting the headstones into sharp relief, I thought of my father. He had lived, and died, by his principles. He refused to compromise in the face of enormous odds. And he had taught me to have the same attitude. Now, as I looked upon his grave, a single tear fell from my eye onto the stone below.
“I’ll never forget, dad. They won’t take it away from us.” I whispered, quietly, as I felt the gentle warmth of an early morning sun.
They wanted to remove the homes from the old quarter, nestled in the corner of the crumbling abbey. Dilapidated, aging, rotten, they were still home, and had been for many generations.
As I went to the unkindness, my mind was set. They would not get rid of the nests. The Raven council may be cruel, but they revered tradition. And tradition seeped from the very twigs of our home. As true dawn finally broke, I spread my wings and flew into the sun, its light reflected from my feathers as the strength of honour carried me on.
I’ve been lying here now for more than ninety years. Not alone, but with the tiny, not ready to be born child, whose passage into the world brought my departure from it. My husband and older children were here constantly in the early days. It was hard to understand their distress and devastation when all I felt was overwhelming peace and acceptance. My husband, dead on a foreign battlefield, lies where he fell as do my sons. My daughter and my grandchildren live on the other side of the world. No-one has cried by my grave for more than sixty years. I do not mind. White nights of mist and darkness eternally give way to days of sunshine and light.
“See the lights?” I whisper.” What do you think they are Jay? Tiny little ghosties making their way back to their daytime homes? Fairies? Angels? How perfectly wonderful. I’m so glad we decided to come to the old cemetary this morning. How peaceful and calm the day is begining. Well, what do you think? Is this not the best date ever? Don’t you just want to walk over and see if they will talk to us? I just have to greet them. Welcome them home. Come on,Jay…. Jay?”
Tom and Tim ran into the graveyard. Panting and sweating, they stopped to catch their breaths.
“There. We oughtta be safe from those damn vampires here. It’s holy ground. They can’t touch us,” said Tom.
“Good. All we have to do now is wait until the sun comes up,” Tim replied, not noticing the zombies slowly and quietly digging their way out of the ground behind them.