Wednesday Write-in #47


Welcome to the Wednesday Write-in!

CAKE.shortandsweet runs a write-in every week to writers to practise their skills, and get chatting to each other about their work. Everyone is welcome to join in, and the more people you tell, the more everyone will get out of it.

Prompts

charm  ::  inverted  ::  herb garden  ::  mistaken identity  ::  terrorist

Guidelines

There are no hard and fast rules, but here are some brief guidelines:

  • You can use the prompts as inspiration or try to work them into your story somehow. Use as many as you want.
  • When your story is done, post it online (your blog/twitter/in a comment here), tag with #wednesdaywritein if you like, and comment with a link so we can read it.
  • Please take the time to read and comment on as many other stories as you can.
  • If you want to write a poem, a script, or something completely different, feel free.

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31 thoughts on “Wednesday Write-in #47

  1. Pingback: Story :: Going Missing | a slice of imagination

  2. Hi. Just a very quick one today as I won’t have much time – school holidays up here, thought I would introduce my kids to sunshine, don’t think they’ve seen it before! (Prompts used as inspiration: Charm(ing) Man, mistaken identity and inverted.)

    To: Richard
    Subject: Re: Need to Cancel

    Dick,
    Just to confirm: it’s not me, it is you.
    Liz

    To: Lizzie
    Subject: Need to Cancel

    Hi Lizzie,
    Sorry to do this by email, but I won’t be coming down. Just take Jackie to see the Morrissey gig. You two will have a great time without me anyway!
    It’s not just the gig. Look, you know it’s not working, you deserve better than me. This isn’t the right way to do it, but I am no good with all that sort of thing. It’s best this way.
    I took most of my stuff with me last time, so I won’t need what’s left. Just shove it in the charity shop(or start a fire with it lol) I do love you babe, but I am not ready.
    Had a blast.
    Take care of yourself. X

  3. Pingback: Wednesday Weekly Write-In | Tessa Sheppard

  4. Hi everyone, here’s mine;
    Unrequited love
    Unrequited love; they all write about it. It’s all well and good moping around feeling sorry for yourself because the object of your affections doesn’t return the favour but have you ever been a victim of it? A victim of unrequited love? I know, you never hear of those now do you? Well that’s because the victim doesn’t get to tell their story. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from the hours hiding in the nooks of this castle, peering into forbidden books, it’s that throughout history it is the victor that holds key to the records, branding the underdogs as terrorists to sharpen the tip of their V for victory. It helps them justify the destruction.
    Anyway this unrequited love is about to change the course of its own history.
    It all began when mother got sick. I was sent to live with my aunt who works as a cook for some very important people. I was there to help her, run errands and earn enough to pay for the medicine to make Mammy better.
    Turns out things around here are different to what I expected. I was told not to wander around the castle; that my presence should be confined to the servants’ quarters. Conscious that my time here was perilously finite and the secrets to be discovered endless, It didn’t take me long to discover that security is pretty lax. I wandered freely without detection.
    History can move in mysterious ways.
    It was last September when the prince first tried to kiss me. I remember because I was picking blackberries at the time. He seemed to have been watching me. He hadn’t an ounce of charm about him. I thought he looked strange with a combination of extreme features that could only suggest centuries of keeping bloodlines pure and inbreeding. He stood too close to me and I backed into the bushes behind me. I could feel the thorns hook onto my skin. Do you think he’d help like anyone with manners would? No.
    Only when I was properly tangled in the blackberry brambles he leaned in to try to kiss me. When I refused he was astounded at the audacity.
    “Why would you not want to kiss me?”
    “I just don’t.”
    “But I’m the prince.”
    “I know.”
    “Marrying a prince is an offer you can’t afford to turn down.”
    “I don’t want to marry a prince.”
    “You shall have to relent eventually.”
    “No I won’t.”
    “Of course you will. You are nothing but a bastard child with nothing to inherit.”
    It’s now midsummer and I stand in the herb garden. The fragranced air wafts around me on an idle breeze. I know from the aroma that the oils I need to extract are at their most potent.
    I’ve been collecting the ingredients since Mammy passed away at Christmas. When I learnt that I wouldn’t be returning home, I decided I’d have to do something with the old recipe I’d found in a cook book hidden behind all the others. I was unable to endure the harassment any more. He followed me everywhere, reciting verses of undying love, keeping me from my secret places and books. Some might have been flattered but I hadn’t time for his nonsense.
    I must confess I did consider taking the potion and marrying the prince. I couldn’t do it to myself. Even I who can find music in the incessant barking of dog can find no goodness in him. I had so often witnessed his cruelty for the sake of entertainment. It would be a poisoned love. How could I spend the rest of my life tied to someone so obnoxious with such an inverted sense of entitlement? What would you expect? I suppose, with such a skewed upbringing, allowed to act with total impunity whatever the damage, immorality constantly rewarded.
    I’ve connected the dots and filled in the blanks and I know how it’d end. Between the lines in all the books are queens who stand silently by a whole series of bad decisions and the deception that follows. I recognise the ominous pattern in the prince’s increasing threats. Married to him, I would belong to him and a corrupt life I would lead. I would have helplessly to watch him destroy this kingdom. Being queen doesn’t seem to be much fun anyway. She’s always in a bad mood.
    The redirection of his infatuation must be plausible for this to go smoothly. That leaves me with two options. Sally, a pretty thing with big generous eyes full of fear, the girl who spends her days confined to the laundry room scrubbing out stains from satin sheets when she probably doesn’t even have a bed of her own. Then there’s Bessie, the butcher’s daughter, she’s really mean and always makes me wait ages, serving all the grown-ups first pretending not to see me. Both are believable as objects of affection, each with a beauty of their own.
    The pocket of my apron is bulging with the last of the ingredients apple seeds, mint, lavender, thyme, marigold and rose petals and nettle leaves. As I head back to the kitchen I pluck the mane from a daisy, strand by strand, he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me…
    As I sprinkle in the last of the petals, I think how it would seem like the right thing to do, to make him fall for Sally and save her from hardship. But to subject her to the infatuation of the prince would be to inflict more suffering on her life. Bessie would be flattered by the attention and not only enjoy the bad poetry but seems perfectly suited to a life of corruption.
    I write her name clearly on the paper. The last thing I want is a case of mistaken identity like what happened in Mr. Shakespeare’s story.
    With the prince off my back I’ll be able to fade into the shadows again. There’s plenty more recipes in that book I found. I’ll sort out the rest of this kingdom. As for the telling of the story I think I will have to do that myself.

    • Yes, she sounds like she’ll survive to tell the tale. I like how you bring it back to that. Interesting point about the ‘victim’ of unrequited love as well. There is a fine line. Really interesting piece.

    • Wow! Love this. It’s like the other side of my story, in a way! Well done, really nice writing and great descriptions. I love the ending, and can’t help but wonder what other plans your narrator has for her kingdom. 🙂

    • There are so many great lines in this piece. I really liked this line: ‘Conscious that my time here was perilously finite and the secrets to be discovered endless…’. Wonderful job! 🙂

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