It’s that time of the again when I write my response to The Writing Book’s writing challenges! Huzzah!
This ’s challenge is a little bit more personally involved than the previous two, which is to be expected, I suppose, as we are just warming up in the book, trying to encourage beginners to flex their fledgling’s wings and learn how to write.
1.3: Write the words ‘I remember’ at the top of the piece of paper and then see what comes out.
Write the words ‘Yesterday, I’ at the top of a piece of paper and see what you find yourself writing next.
I guess I’ll write two little pieces…
I remember it only took three dates. Were they dates? The whole idea of “dating” seems so contrived; we just had coffee in the Botanical Gardens and walked around shooting the shit – smiling, laughing while we watched sweating office workers struggling through their lunch breaks, and the sweltering heat under the cold glares of their personal trainers.
Seeing her on the other side of the road after we said goodbye, running behind a bus to try to pull of that whole disappearing-into-the-crowded-city-in-a-rom-com thing. I failed.
The museum. Imagining the calcified terrors looming above us stalking through the South Bank markets, bellowing beneath the roller-coaster freeways across the muddy river Brisbane. Muttaburrasaurus. Who gets to name these aborted experiments of evolution? Made kings of this earth for 300 million years, their bones were set in solid stone, and we stare into their hollow eyes, their long-dead reptilian gaze illuminated by forbidden flash photography.
We kissed as the 470 bus arrived; I was nervous and didn’t make the first move. She smiled and kissed me quickly, lifting her face to see my reaction. I glanced over her shoulder – the queue was only getting longer so I pulled her against my chest and kissed her again before she broke away, joining the peak-hour press.
The third “date” I went to her house, we watched bad movies on her tiny television, eating take-away Chinese and drinking boxed wine.
I walked home, as usual; I had no money, which is why all of our dates were cheap. I couldn’t stop thinking about her as I ignored the people around me, pushing through the suits that flood the inner city at five p.m.
She sent me a text from the bus, about falling for me, about falling in love.
I replied on my way home, “I’m sorry; I don’t think I’m falling in love with you…”
I sent another seconds later, before she had a chance to reply. “I HAVE fallen for you.”
This also doubles as an autobiographical piece for http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com ’s challenge (the prompt was to write autobiography revolving around the number 3 ) as well as for my lovely wife, Heidi. Three dates, three text messages. Three (maybe four) years ago. I love you beautiful!
So know onto the second piece, Yesterday, I…
Good Morning, Darkness
Yesterday, I woke to darkness. I woke to the insistent shrieking of my alarm, grumbling as I rolled from bed. Trying to stay silent as my wife and daughter slept on, waiting for dawn. The kettle seemed to take an age to come to the boil – pacing between the white glare of an empty Word document and the orange light around the kettle’s foot.
I rolled a cigarette as I waited, the warm touch of nicotine at my throat started to drag me to wakefulness. The kettle spoke out and the warm aroma of granulated coffee seemed to bring the cold winter sky into sharp relief.
Yesterday, I woke to darkness, waiting for the sun to breach the prison of the horizon. Waiting for its slow unfolding reflection against the sky.
Yesterday I wrote, while world slumbered, happily buried in their dreams.
There we go, that one included a http://bekindrewrite.com prompt happily buried ! Two stories in one post! BOOM!