On Wednesdays, assorted people have been taking monthly turns at putting up a selection of words which is called “Words for Wednesday”.
This month the meme continues here, at Elephant’s Child’s blog, with words supplied by Elephant’s Child in place of Jacqui, who is sadly unable to be with us.
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:
And So It Begins
"You little fiend," she shrieked. "Give me back my diary!"
I saw a flood of tears threaten as the little stinker skipped back out of her reach, his mocking voice reading aloud her latest entry.
"Happiness would be living a primitive lifestyle on an island in the Pacific, with coconut palms and fish for food. Fish? you don't even like fish and you never learned to swim. What kind of bizarre world are you tripping in?"
He raced into his room and slammed the door. She kicked it, hard, then shouted, "f you don't give it back right now, I'll tell Wendy what a big fat imposter you are with your lies about being a chess champion and applying to be a lifeguard next summer. I'll make sure she knows you can't swim either. I'll fix you good."
Her rush of adrenaline dissipated as quickly as it had begun as she sank to the floor whispering, "please give it back."
He couldn't possibly have heard that tiny whisper, but perhaps the threat of telling Wendy did the trick. The diary was pushed under the door and she snatched it up, racing to her room with it.
I'd watched the whole episode in silence, neither twin had noticed me standing there.
As babies, they'd lived in a curious bubble of their own making, always together, never apart for longer than a toilet break.
But since turning thirteen, the degeneration of civilities had been speedy and explosive.
I sighed and hoped I could safely steer them through the next six years without too much heartache.
They'd be wonderful adults, but the journey would be long and sometimes hard.