The Writing Group

He turned on the lights and squinted in surprise. Cob webs covered the place from head to toe, but the light bulbs must have been replaced recently. He shivered. This was where they were meeting? He could only imagine: Dark writers had a strange fondness of odd places. Carefully, he worked his way inside, makingContinue reading “The Writing Group”

In the Shed

She rounded the corner and held her nose, trying to escape the smell. They’d have to clear this place out, she thought, sighing. A grimy toilet was inside the tiny shed. She rolled up her sleeves, then paused. Maybe she’d ask her husband to do it. She hated cleaning out things and with her allergies,Continue reading “In the Shed”

Through the Puddle

The bench he decided to sit on was wet with rain, but he didn’t really care. It had stopped raining an hour ago, but even that didn’t really register with him. He felt totally isolated, as though cut off from the world. Staring at the puddles on the ground, he felt the world keep spinningContinue reading “Through the Puddle”

Forgiveness

I watched the hand curl around the door, the long fingernails digging into the wood. In the shadowy moonlight, I could see the knuckles turning white. The door creaked. It was standing half ajar, but I was sitting in the dark, hidden away from the outside. All I could see was the door. The doorContinue reading “Forgiveness”

Grey Skies

He stared up at the grey building. Some of the windows were lit, but they did nothing to cheer him up. Craning his neck, he could see the sky above, an even darker shade of grey than the building. His fingers gripped the umbrella tighter. He hoped he wouldn’t be needing it later. He didn’tContinue reading “Grey Skies”

Returning

Along with the workshop on “beginnings” I took, which I talked about in my last post, I also went to a workshop that was called “No Place Like Mine”, focusing on the setting of a story. It was quite an interesting and informative class, where I realised that it really doesn’t matter too much if youContinue reading “Returning”

They Shoot The White Girl First.

I recently took a writing workshop on “beginnings” and I thought I’d share the outcome of one of the writing exercises we did. We were given a list of opening sentences, which were taken from numerous novels, and were asked to continue the story. Mine is my usual action-packed dark story, which could possibly be turned intoContinue reading “They Shoot The White Girl First.”

Running

She hated this part of the woods. It was cold and mucky, and the trees seemed to close in around her from all sides. Still, she kept moving, her bare feet finding the spots along the path that were dry. Looking behind her, she couldn’t see him anymore. She wanted to breathe a sigh ofContinue reading “Running”