Wednesday Write-in #81

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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.


drawn  ::  sitting comfortably  ::  sag  ::  hiss  ::  ship-shape


  • Use the prompts as inspiration or try to work them into your story somehow. Use as many as you want.
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  • 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.

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31 thoughts on “Wednesday Write-in #81

  1. Is it just me, or are the weeks zipping by faster than they used to?!

    My offering for this week’s Wednesday is here:

    I Am As I Am

    Looking forward to reading everyone else’s story, as usual. Have a great day!


  2. The Vineyard

    I had always been drawn to South Africa. When I finished that awful grind as a highly paid wage slave I bought a run down vineyard in a secret valley North of Wellington and started. The acreage was good and the vines were too but it had suffered from lack of development and only had a small local business. I knew it could be much bigger with my energy and entrepreneurial flair.
    Ten years later I am sitting comfortably in more ways than one. I look out across the rows of vines which sag with abundant fruit. As evening saunters in and the shadows of the surrounding mountains creep across the valley, the rhythmic hiss of the water spaying from the irrigation system contributes a beat for the insect songs. The heavy fragrance of the garden below the veranda of the old house happily joins the yeasty aroma of fermenting wine as I sip the glass of splendid Pinotage.
    I gaze towards the setting sun and give thanks for the successful dirty tricks they used to get rid of me.

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  4. A bit short of time today but here it is. I’ll try and keep up with the next few Wednesdays while I am away, but I may not be able to comment so much.
    The Life Model
    She heard the hiss of the kettle with relief; it was time for a brew at the end of the session. Sitting apparently comfortably but statue still for so long while being drawn by a class of art students was an art in itself. Switching off while ten pairs of eyes minutely examined her 50+-year-old body’s every sag and droop needed practice, and she had had a lot of that over the years.
    She spent the time weaving elaborate daydreams in which she met a tall dark stranger who wined and dined her then walked her to her hotel room … Dot dot dot; it always ended with dot dot dot.
    It was fascinating to watch a group develop, especially the adult education class. At the first session they could hardly look at her, which was amusing for one so comfortable with her body. Then they grew less awkward and might chat with her during coffee break. Finally they could see her form with a dispassionate eye and the drawing was all that mattered.
    She took her mug of tea around the easels to study the results while the students got the room ship-shape ready for the next class. Did she really look like that? This one was great. She looked ten years younger, fit and toned with not a saggy bit in sight. The artist was a tall bald stranger with a shy smile.
    ‘Are you sure that’s me?’ she asked. ‘I’m flattered, but I don’t think you’ve drawn a good likeness.’
    ‘It’s how I see you,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re beautiful. Would you consider coming out for dinner with me some time?’
    Dot dot dot.

  5. Happy Wednesday Everyone!
    Here’s mine.
    Curtains drawn, all sunshine excluded. A corner of the sofa cleared of clothes and books, sitting comfortably with a plan not to move for the entire weekend. Preparation complete. I was all set up and ready to allow the world crumble and disintegrate to dust around me. I was going to simply sag into a blob of my own despair, melt into a pit of my own misery and not care about the consequences.
    I had just initiated the ritual of hopeless channel flicking when the doorbell rang.
    In she bursts.
    She must have known there was something wrong when she didn’t hear from me all week.
    In one swoop, curtains are pulled back and the room is flooded with light, dust motes sparkle in the air and my mess is exposed.
    “Won’t take long to get a shape on this place.”
    I looked at her in disbelief.
    “Come on you. Let’s get a move on and we’ll get this place ship-shape, spick and span.” She hissed.
    She ignored my resistance.
    “Where’s the immersion in this house? I’ll switch it on. Let’s get some hot water ready. Get black sacks.”
    And so began the clean-up and the recovery. She knew me better than I knew myself. In saving me from my own darkness she probably saved my life.

    • The tenses are a bit distracting in this piece, but it does have the upside of making the narrator feel really jumbled and confused, which I can imagine they are, shut away in their own sadness. It’s hard to write about people going through black times and feel genuine, well done 🙂

      • Thanks, I will have a revise of the tenses when I edit. Was really tired when I wrote this so maybe it reflected my true jumbled state! I’d be lucky to even turn on the tv these days!

    • Sounds to me like she was getting settled into enjoying a real wallow in self-pity; I wonder if she was going to demolish a huge box of chocolates in the process. I feel that the friend who knew her so well knew it wasn’t genuine depression. Nice one.

    • I wish we all had friends (sisters?) like this when times got hard! Sometimes, a bit of help to get things straightened out is all we need. I was worried by the ‘hiss’, though: ‘hiss’, to me, suggests anger or malice or something like that. It seemed to clang a little with the tone of what she’s trying to do.

      Maybe that’s just me.

      Another really enjoyable, evocative and emotional piece. Well done!

      • Thanks! Glad you picked up on the ambiguity of the person who comes in- I was going to call this “Me Ma” & then decided to leave it open. Might rethink it. You’re spot on about the hiss & I was aware when I wrote but was too tired to solve it. Needs a sentence or two defining the hiss as being how the narrator perceives her voice- a resistance to her intrusion. This was a very rough draft- thanks for reading & for your advice & encouragement!

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  7. She was sitting comfortably, her long, thin frame stretched out on the blanket I’d supplied for our intimate meeting. Her inky hair a striking contrast to her milky white flesh. I’d drawn many nude models, painted their forms, but something about her turned my artist brain to mush. I took note of the way her breasts didn’t sag, but stood proud and free. I imagined what they’d feel like in my hands. A sharp hiss escaped from between my teeth. I gained control enough to finish without completely embarrassing both of us. I was a professional after all. A man, no doubt, but still an artist with a job to do.

    When she was gone, I cleaned my brushes and got my studio in ship-shape form, prepared for my next assignment.

  8. It does. Same idea, totally different take on it. It’s always cool to see all the directions one prompt can go. Thank you.

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