Wednesday Write-in #72, #73

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Welcome to the Wednesday Write-in!

Welcome to the Wednesday Write-in. This event runs every week to help any and all writers take control of their productivity and imaginations. Please join in; we’d love to read your work.

Looks like our New Year post got lost in the ether last week, but I suppose after a year and a half of write-ins, we all deserve a day off. Back, live and kicking this week with a double set of prompts – pick from just one or both, whatever you like!

Prompts

linen  ::  fox  ::  desire  ::  coronation  ::  sunday morning

true love  ::  sold  ::  metallic  ::  human being  ::  glisten

Guidelines

There are no rules, but here are some guidelines:

  • 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 have time for (but we won’t shout at you if you don’t).
  • If you want to write a poem, a script, or something completely different, feel free.

Get Involved

Look for us on Facebook or Twitter to keep up with the write-ins, or click the follow button to get blog updates.

Any questions? Otherwise, have fun writing!

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22 thoughts on “Wednesday Write-in #72, #73

    • The Usurper

      I am lying in bed. I don’t want to get up at all, but it is not a Sunday morning and work calls. Linen suit time. Dammit. Dress up Wednesdays! Who suggested that? FFS! I knew who had suggested it. Little Missy Smart Ass only been with us five minutes that’s who! She’s got our number, got us all sussed out. First one handed in their notice last week. Who will be next? Not me. I won’t let it happen. No way. She doesn’t know what she’s taken on. I watch. I wait. I bide my time. She doesn’t scare me; she’s only a human being. I think.

      • If you’re responding to my story, Jeanette – thanks very much! I have huge trouble with endings. I agonised over this for ages before posting. Thanks for your suggestion! I really liked your story, too – and, funnily enough, it’s your last throwaway sentence ‘I think’ which makes the whole thing sparkle. Will you teach me how to write endings? 😀

  1. Happy new year everyone.

    Daydreaming
    It was Sunday morning and the Fox family were walking to church, the ladies dressed in crisp white linen and wearing straw hats with flowers at the brim. Miss Susan Fox kept her gaze demurely lowered as they walked up the path, but she hadn’t missed the flare of desire in the stable-lad’s eyes as they passed him at the gate.
    Miss Susan Fox paid no attention to the vicar as he solemnly intoned the sermon touching delicately on the sins of the flesh. She was floating in a daydream where she and the stable-lad (she thought his name was William) were frolicking hand in hand through a bluebell wood while Handel’s coronation anthem was being played by a full orchestra in the background.
    The final ‘Amen’ jolted Miss Susan Fox back to reality. As they filed sedately out of church shaking hands with the vicar at the door she sighed as she spotted the stable-lad (whatever his name was) with his face very close to that of the pretty barmaid from the inn. But as they made their way down the lane she noticed the blacksmith’s apprentice looking at her appreciatively…

    Cindy
    Her name was Cindy. Her big shiny metallic body glistened like silver, her four telescopic eyes swivelled independently not missing a single pixel within a full circle, her motor purred quietly as she glided around the room and her multiple arms and grabbers shifted furniture and cleaned whilst washing and ironing. She was the model of efficiency. But she was not the normal household slave for something was different about her. Deep within her metal core with its tangle of electronic circuitry beat the heart of a warm human being. She knew she could never be sold, for this aberration would be discovered. Her human was irrevocably tied to her.
    He should not have made her this way, but he couldn’t resist pushing the experiment beyond acceptable limits, testing the boundaries, striving to create the perfect creature with the strength of a machine, the intelligence of a computer, but with emotions.
    He had succeeded to a degree. She knew true love and fierce jealousy, although the concept of right and wrong did not compute. He was her master and any female who got within a five-metre exclusion zone felt Cindy’s vice-like grip around her neck for the few seconds it took for her to die.

    • Well done you for using both sets of prompts! I loved both your stories, the realism of the first one (not to mention your pragmatic heroine!) and the eerie futurism of the second. I hope Cindy’s master doesn’t have cause to regret his decision to build her… Excellent work on both counts. And Happy New Year to you, too.

    • Great stories! I really enjoyed these. Interesting how both stories show different ranges of love and commitment. Well done!

    • I love both of these- each one is well written example of each genre. Very clear & easy to visualize: you have successfully immersed us in 2 very different worlds. The first one made me laugh and very effectively captured a mood/atmosphere. The second one is great too-very strong economic use of vocabulary & had me hooked til the end! Well done.

  2. Pingback: Sunday Morning | patrickprinsloo

  3. Pingback: Wednesday Weekly Write-In (And Then Some) | Tessa Sheppard

  4. Happy New Year everyone!
    Had great fun trying to squeeze as many of these in as I could. Looking forward to reading everyone’s.
    Human?
    Sleep, cramped, muscles clenched. Curled up in a tight ball. Back of head tingly.
    A gaping chasm of nothingness that was the night before. Darkness was deathly absolute. Not the hint of a thought in head. Too tired to try to think.

    Relief when she recognised the smell of the bed linen that she’d spent the previous afternoon ironing in preparation. She resisted the urge to move. Not ready. Still unable to open her eyes to reality, she tried to remember the night before but couldn’t distinguish any shape or object, no body, no sense of anything about it, a black vacuum. She felt helpless and naked. Maybe it was only a feeling but not knowing what happened the night before left her feeling cold and vulnerable. Questions unfurled in her mind.

    “Need to put thoughts in order. Wait. I am naked. Something funny is definitely going on. What did I do? What did you get up to last night you old fox? What prey have you dragged home this time?”

    Her drunken escapades during her younger years lead to her being called the fox. She had a history of not just texting or ringing ex’s but of prowling them out and stalking them. A lot of embarrassing incidents ensued. Other times she brought home little stray animals that she fell in utterly in love with and “rescued” them, someone to listen to her talk about all of her problems. Real problem was that not all of the animals were strictly stray. So some embarrassing return trips usually ensued.

    When through a half open eye, she spied a crumpled coronation splayed limp in the corner beside the bed, she remembered footprints in a flowerbed and drunken declarations of true love.
    “But that’s not even a rose.” You had laughed.

    A Metallica t-shirt hung from the light fitting like a strangled monkey. It plucked out a tune, a song from her memory when she laid her face into the warmth of the chest of that t-shirt and felt the heartbeat beneath.

    “Must have took his t-shirt.”
    She mentally groped around the impenetrable darkness of her memory. Fear of the unknown necessitating some coaxing.
    “Merely retracing steps,” she told herself. “No need for alarm.”

    “Reassured by this immense heartbeat, I was enveloped in it.”

    Colours emerge of someone doing something. Gently taking off clothes, kissing and bestowing compliments about every part of her body. Time and space disjointed, the image in her head evaporated.

    “Just a dream before waking, the first thing that flashes.”
    She tried to drift back to sleep to recapture the dream but the slit of light from a half-open eye soon leaks and spreads from nerve to brain to say awake now. Too late, the dream world is dissolved, it’s fleeting forms already dissipated.
    Forgotten what it felt like.
    Regretting missed opportunities, she lingered in the limbo between sleep and wake until she heard a sound and couldn’t tell which world it belonged to. Her conscious mind flooded with light as the rustling amplified. There was something else in bed beside her. Her imagination recognised a multitude of non-human movement in the shuffling of the fabric.
    A black curl sticking out of the top of her freshly ironed duvet cover.
    “What form did you desire last night old fox?”
    Slowly she pulled back the covers.
    “No need for alarm. A fine specimen of a human being.” Her eyes glisten. “Sunday morning in bed for two. Sold.”

    • Happy New Year!

      I really enjoyed this – I loved the interplay between real-world and the magical (fairytale?) elements which make you go back and read the whole thing in a different light. Also, I laughed at the description of the T-shirt hanging from the light fixture like a ‘strangled monkey’ – what a brilliant phrase. A great story, and what a way to start the new year. 🙂

    • I enjoyed the dreamy quality of the prose. Your descriptions convey the imagery of a woman in bed, still groggy from sleep very well. Good job!

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