On Wednesdays, assorted people have been taking monthly turns at putting up a selection of six (or twelve) words which is called “Words for Wednesday”.
We have taken over this meme from Delores, who had been having computer problems.
This month the meme continues here, at Riot Kitty’s site.
Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.
Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or images. What we do with those prompts is up to us: a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...
Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog. We would really like it if as many people as possible joined in with this fun meme.
If you are posting on your own blog - let us know so that we can come along and read your masterpiece.
I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.
It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?
This week's words are:
Here is my story:
"Don't bother me now, bitch! Can't you see I'm getting ready to go out?"
"You've been out every night this week! how can you say there's no extra money for groceries when you have enough to go gambling with? Can't you see your children are hungry?"
"Shut your whining, woman. YOU had those kids, it wasn't my idea to fill the house with snivelling brats."
His sneer as he looked at me made me wonder what I'd ever seen in him. It made me wonder why he hadn't listened to his mother when she warned him against me. Just because I had some aboriginal blood in me, she even went so far as to tell him not to marry "that nigger". I'd been proud when he stood up to her and we eloped.
Now of course it was an entirely different story.
He couldn't wait to leave the house each day. He left me a few dollars every payday and I was supposed to feed myself and the kids with it until the next payday. With rising prices, I was finding it harder and harder to get enough food on the table. We didn't dare to dream of new shoes. Thankfully, a near neighbour had children a little older than my two and we certainly didn't mind accepting hand-me-downs.
I tried one more time to ask for just a few shillings more each week.
His vicious "fuck off" was accompanied by a backhander across my face; I didn't dare scream and frighten the kids. They'd see the bruise soon enough and know what happened.
After the children were asleep, I left the house and made my way to the aboriginal camp along the riverbank. There were ancient practices that rivalled the voodoo often practiced in the deep south of America and I was going to ask Old Billy to 'Point the Bone' at my husband, along with everything else he could think of.
I also asked Old Pearl if we could come and stay with the tribe for the summer. Old Pearl had been cousin to my grandfather, even such a tenuous link made us family, which greatly increased our chances of being accepted.