I have been working on my ‘Write’ theme of Read Write Move recently…I have re-joined a writers group that I first found out about and went along to a few years ago. I was pleased to find out that they still meet monthly and I was welcomed back warmly. It feels good to be a part of things again and to hear about the work of others. And I am sure it will help keep me on track with my writing. I affectionately refer to it as ‘Write Club’ (like Fight Club, but the rule being that you do talk about it, or at least write about it…). I am looking forward to our monthly meetings had have already started on a great ‘free writing’ exercise that Debi (Write Club Leader) set as homework for next time.
I have also been part of Jennifer M. Eaton’s ‘Write a Story With Me!’ challenge, which I found out about via fellow blogger Vanessa Chapman. The idea is that a different writer every week adds 250 words to a story that Jennifer started, and then it is passed on to the next writer to add to it. I was writer number fifteen, and must admit to feeling quite nervous after reading the previous contributions, due to the fact that 1) I haven’t written anything in a very long time, and 2) the story had quite quickly turned into a rather complex fantasy world of beetle fairies versus humans, portals and Gleaming Trees, which is totally out of my writing comfort zone. But hey, I’m up for a challenge so thought I would give it a go! My section is below…if you want to read the rest of the story, or even join in, visit Jennifer’s blog.
“Yes, mother.” answered Bethany. She quickly took the tray laden with tea from her, which had been rattling precariously as it balanced on top of her swollen stomach.
“What are you doing skulking around out here?”
“What’s going on? Is Marci okay?” she deflected, concentrating on keeping her face a mask of sisterly concern.
“She certainly is not, Bethany. I’m afraid your sister seems to be in quite a bad way.”
Her mother carried on down the corridor and gently pushed open the door to Marci’s room, beckoning with her hand that Bethany should follow. On entering, Bethany’s eyes quickly flicked round the room in an attempt to locate the fairy her father had been talking to, but there was no sign of him. Her mother’s commotion in the corridor had obviously alerted them to their presence.
Bethany, remembering why she was supposed to be there, turned to look at Marci. She gasped as she took in her stricken sister, hair plastered to her face with sweat and skin drained of colour. She hadn’t meant things to go this far with the Slemiprin powder, she thought she had used just enough to cause temporary detriment to Marci’s cognitive function, allowing her to get her father on his own for a change and tell him what she had seen. Aiding her father in the extermination of Argot would teach Marci the ultimate lesson. Her father could not fail to change his mind, and she would become the apple of his eye instead of her.
But now it seemed uncertain as to whether Marci would pull through, and her father was contemplating risking losing everything for her. What had she done?
“Bethany, did you hear what I just said?” her father demanded, a stern look on his face.