Tag Archives: Writing

Dice Games 2

Week 2 of dice games. My prompt this week was, There’s a suspected murderer next door.

Rachel looked out the window wishing something would happen, anything really. Life had been so dull since Poppy went away. She really hoped that Poppys parents relented and let her come back soon. But even if that happened she wasn’t sure that her parents would let her be friends with Poppy anymore. Something about being bad for each other. It was just that with Poppy by her side Rachel felt more confident, able to see more than she would normally. Rachel and Poppys parents called it meddling where they didn’t belong, but Rachel and Poppy had been so sure that they were on to something, that they weren’t just being “pesky kids.” Just because they parents had watched too much Scooby doo, Rachel and Poopy were paying the consequence.
Rachel and Poopy sat in the tree housing, legs swinging over the side of the platform. They loved it, being able to see what was happening, to feel the freedom, not to have grown ups snooping, listening to their every word. It was from here that they had started to watch Mr Smith next door. Rachels mum had told them not to annoy him, that he was sad because his wife had died and he was all alone now. But Rachel and Poppy thought that he was all alone because he was so mean. They watched him grumble at the postman. They had seen him send away the boys who just wanted there ball back. He had shouted at them telling them that they should have been more careful, that no one went in his garden, no one was even to see in his garden. Well that was what Mr Smith thought, he didn’t know that the girls were sitting high up in the tree, seeing all, but unseen. The high wall didn’t stop them from seeing all. They saw Mr Smith sat looking at the big square stone at the end of the garden. It looked like a grave stone. Rachel and Poopy were sure that was what it was, that he must have his wife buried there. As they talked they started to wonder if that was where she really was buried? Why was he so protective of the garden?
They had such a good view of the garden. They had seen the immaculate lawn, which he mowed weekly to make sure that it was in beautiful lines. The flower beds that were show perfect. But off to one side there were other things, maybe the things that stopped Mr Smith letting people in. Maybe that was what he was trying to hide. They had watched as he dug a deep and long trench. They had speculated what it was for. They were sure that he was digging another grave. What else could be that shape or size? They could think of nothing else that would need him to have trench like that.
One day much to Rachel and Poopys amazement they had seen Mr Smith in the garden with a female who looked so beautiful, like a princess. Rachel and Poopy thought that they had never seen anyone so beautiful. Mr Smith had looked so happy, he looked younger when he smiled. Maybe he wasn’t so scary after all. Rachel and Poopy had left there view point that day, to get a snack. When they returned Mr Smith did not look happy. In fact he looked very mad, they could just here him shouting at her. “you are dead, I will never see you again.” They had seen her run in to the house followed by Mr Smith. Next day they watched as Mr Smith filled in the trench, they had watched as he made a bonfire first of weeds and leaves, but then they had seen him bring out clothes and put them on there. They had watched as he put what looked like a young womens clothes on the fire, as he had wiped away a tear. They knew they had to tell somebody, but who? Their parents would just tell them off, tell them that they should stop making up stories. How could they make sure they were believed? They needed evidence, they needed to get in and find something…….
That was when all the trouble had really started. They knew that if they could just get evidence that people would believe them. They had sneaked into the garden with little problem, and even found somewhere to hide no problem, but working out how to get the end of the clothes that they could see wouldn’t burnt without being seen, defeated them for a long time. They kept thinking it would be ok, then Mr Smith would come and sit in the garden again. After dark they crept out and picked up the piece of material they could see. Then running they thought for their lives, or so they thought. They had decided that now was the time to tell the police, surely they would be taken seriously now that they had evidence. They had felt so let down, they made it to the police station but the police seemed to think that they were making things up, and had just tossed away the material, but had been more worried about returning them to their very worried parents. That was when their parents had said no more, they were a bad influence on each other and weren’t to see each other anymore. It felt like weeks even though Rachel knew that it had only been a few days. Sighing Rachel went to pick up the paper for her mum, looking at the front page she read the headline missing, and saw a photo of the girl from the garden.

Dice Games 1

This month I am taking part in a writing challenge. Each week there are six prompts, you role a dice to see which one you are to do. This week my prompt was “There was something decidedly odd about that child…”

Jane tried again to get through to Bill, it was just all so frustrating, she loved him dearly, knew how precious he was, but boy was it hard work sometimes. He lived in a world of his own. He knew who she was, but not in a way that other children did. No running up to her, and hugging her when she collected him from nursery. He usually didn’t mind being collected, but there was no joyful recognition that she saw in the other children when they were collected. As he grew, there was so much that she saw other parents enjoying, and she was missing out on. Bill didn’t really bable, there was no trying to work out words. He learnt one or two, but it was like he didn’t need them, like he was in a world that didn’t ever really coincide with the world of those around him. There was no comforting him if things weren’t how he thought they should be, he would jump up and down, and tantrum until things I hadn’t even noticed were put back. I thought his heart would break the day that we moved house.
Bill watched as he spun the spinning top, he could hear somebody say to the lady who made sure he had what he needed, “isn’t your son a little old to be playing with that, he’s what 9, 10?” I heard her reply “9, I know but he seems to love it.” Love was just another of those words I didn’t understand, I heard people using it, but didn’t understand it. I resumed my counting, the spinning top had now gone round25 times in the last minute. He knew it was a minute he has sat himself where he could see the clock, and time it, now to work out how fast it was going. Bill was happily doing the maths, when the lady who made sure he had what he needed came over and tried to take his hand, saying time for school now. Pulling away he continued working out, could he make it go faster, what was it’s top speed. Pushing the handle harder he set it spinning again. Maybe he should not start from a standing start. The lady who made sure he had what he needed, reached over and picked it up saying “Bill you can have it later, but it’s time for School.” Bill threw himself to the ground, and started hitting it. He knew what that word meant, School was that place where they made him join the dots up, put beads on strings, and other things which he found boring and could see no point to. If he was really good they would let him play with the sand. He loved the sand, the feel of it, the coolness, the sensation, just by running it through his hands he could tell if they had changed it.
Jane breathed a sigh of relief as she got Bill on the school bus, she was exhausted. So often it seemed like an uphill battle, it was an uphill battle. Most of the time it was like trudging uphill against the rain, but occasionally the sun comes out, and there is a marvellous view that makes it all worthwhile. Bills smile when something brought him joy, and often little things that she wouldn’t have noticed otherwise were what brought him joy. Just the other day he had been fascinated by a butterfly in the garden, it had made her stop and appreciate the beauty. Also Bill had made her see that having the “perfect” life with the “perfect” family wasn’t everything. She had learnt to appreciate what she had, live in the moment, not to worry so much what others thought.

Not letting Dyslexia win.

I realise that life is about to get mad again, but that doesn’t stop me finding new online challenges. I figure it will be easier to hit the ground running that to add things in. As well as starting a Masters in September, I’m hoping to also keep going with some story writing, but I’ll have to see how it goes. Lots of people think I’m mad for even attempting to deal with dyslexia and do some writing just for fun, without trying to study full time at the same time. Somedays it does daunt me, but I’m determined to not let dyslexia define who I am, which some times it does feel like it does. Being dyslexic effects not just my writing and reading, but how my brain works, and sees things, I’m determined to not let it define my creativity as well. I’m therefore joining up for both a writing challenge, which I have already started working on, and a campaign to help me meet more writers online. Anyone who fancies joining in the madness follow the links, and watch this space to see how well I do at juggling everything.

Reasons to be cheerful part 3

The last two years I have, for want of a better word reviewed things that I have done for the previous year which I am glad to have done. (See posts here and here.) It’s a year since the last one so I’m looking back over the previous year. While reflecting the main thing I realised is that I am happier with who I am as a person. Life in the last year has definitely not worked out how I wanted it to, but I have far less regrets than I have in previous years. I think this is in part due to seeing the positive in what I have, and partly due to not being scared to push doors/ say what I think, so I’m not looking back wishing I had done things differently. I guess I know I did what I could to get the outcome I wanted, which I find makes it easier to accept the way life is.
The following is a selection of things from the last year that I am grateful for.
1) Completeing my second NanoWrimo novel
2) Having the opportunity to learn that I don’t like snow as much as I thought I did!
3) Wonderful friends
4) Completing Script Frenzy
5) Camping
6) “Sunrise” on the beach on the longest day of the year.
7) MacDonalds breakfast with 2 wonderful teenagers, 3 wonderful grown-ups and 3 delightful children. (We use to take the teenagers when they were little.)
8) Special children in my world
9) Finding a church that I love going to (something that I never thought would happen)
10) Twitter (surfing_madness)
11) Remembering my knitting skills
12) Learning to crochet
13) Being given the guardian for the 3 weeks of the tour de France.
14) Completing my post-graduate certificate
15) Getting a place to study Social Work
16) Finding a bible study/ house group which I feel comfortable in.
17) Heritage open day
18) My brother and sister-in-law.
19) My Dad’s randomness
20) Cake

Wrath

I’ve made it to day 7 of the blog challenge. I’ve enjoyed having to think about topics I didn’t pick. Here is the last entry, not sure I like it but here goes.

I didn’t have the energy, the energy to argue, to fight back, to defend myself. I wasn’t sure I was worth defending. I’d heard it so many times before; I had lost the energy to fight back. I knew it would make no difference, better to let the storm pass than to fight back. This way I thought I would be safe, thought that I would survive. What I didn’t know was that I was letting me die, I needed to fight back, but when I did what would happen? How was I to know that it might cost me everything?

Envy

Day 6 of the blog challenge and I am feeling less inspired.

Really you want what I have? You want the houses? The cars? The money? The luxury? You sure you want my life? Do you really want to look beyond the glamour and glitz? Do you want to look beyond the beautiful dresses, the make-up artists that make me look to everyone else beautiful? Well do you want to see what it is that you think you want? Do you want to never be able to leave the house without someone commenting on what you are wearing? To never know when your private life will stop being private? To have people believe lies about you? Is that really what you want?

Gluttony

Day 5 of the blog challenge.

Everybody said I would never amount to anything. I was a nothing, useless, worthless. Well I showed them didn’t I? I have everything. There is nothing that I can’t buy. Look at the rooms bursting with things. Amazing antiques, souvenirs from travels, amazing art work. I have it all, and if I want more I can just buy it, go there and get it. I want for nothing, I am rich beyond my wildest dreams, I can, and do indulge my every whim, buy what I want, go where I want, in fact the only thing I can’t buy is love.

Sloth

Day 4 of the blog challenge.

Todays is sort of related to yesterdays.

Gill squeezed some sun lotion out of the bottle and rubbed it in to her skin, looking with satisfaction at the beautiful shade of brown she was going. Digging into her bag she found her book. Settling on the sun lounger, she enjoyed the warmth as she read. Looking up she signalled to the waiter who came over with another ice-cold drink. This is heaven Gill thought to herself. Closing her eyes for a moment Gill felt so content. Hearing a scream Gill woke abruptly, jumping out of bed she went to calm John who was having another night terror, regretting for a moment that she was not living the dream, but knowing that her son was so precious.

Pride

Day 3 of the blog challenge.

I watched you take your first steps. I was so proud of you that day. I remember the smile on your face as you knocked over the tower I built for you, I remember when you stole the show as the innkeeper, and I remember your infectious smile, your sunny mood. You brought light and joy to all who knew you. You made everyone smile, not cry, even though you were the one in pain. My love when I remember your short wonderful life, how could I not be proud of you.

Lust

Day two of the blog challenge.

Matt looked again at her, she was beautiful, her curves were perfect, the way she looked, even the way she smelt was perfect. Oh she could be temperamental, but Matt knew he could handle her better than anyone else. With him she would be happy. But Matt knew that she would never be his, because she belonged to another, but that didn’t stop everything in him wanting her, wanting her beauty to be his. He imagined how it would feel to possess her, to see people look at her and know that she was with him. Sadly Matt turned and walked away leaving Mercedes behind.