Writing Challenge, Week 2
Day 8: Reality. Describe the view out your bedroom window.
Day 9: Change. Describe the view out your bedroom window after Nazi
soldiers have invaded.
Day 10: Cliché. Clichés hurt your writing. In one or two paragraphs,
describe a Western ghost town, remembering that the first details you imagine
are probably the first features everyone imagines. When you think of a detail,
think of five alternatives and don’t use any of them until at least the fifth
one. What is a different way to describe what you see?
Day 11: Setting the mood. Describe the same scene twice, once giving it a
feeling of joy and once giving it an ominous feel. Don’t tell us why the scene
is sinister or happy—create the feeling through the details you give.
Day 12: Reaching for the stars. Write out your greatest hopes and dreams.
Write them with confidence. Be honest. Be transparent. Shred it when you’re
done if it makes you more comfortable.
Day 13: Terrified. Write out your deepest held fear, either emotional or
tangible. Be honest. Be transparent. Shred it when you’re done if it makes you
more comfortable.
Day 8:
ReplyDeleteMy bedroom windows are at ground level. About ten yards from the house, the tree line begins, and a tangle of spruce and birch tower up to the sky. The woods continue out to the front of the property. Weeds and grass crop up on the clear ground be before the woods start. Yellow leaves scatter the ground in this area. The sunlight highlights the remaining green and yellowish leaves on the birch, and tall grass borders the trunks.
Day 9:
It’s all black. The trees lean on each other, charred, broken, bare.
I’m scared.
The leaves on the ground—they’re not there. Just piles of smoking ash. The spruce branches wing out like threads, stark, and smoky.
Someone shouts.
I duck down behind the protection of my windowsill and peak over the top. Black, booted feet march by, stirring up clouds of ash that coats and suffocate away the shine on the boots.
A swastika pollutes the white bark of a birch, etched there with powdery charcoal.
They’re here.
Day 10:
Olive trees stick up out of the ground, interspersed between the gravestones inside the Mission stone fence. The mass graveyard rises about ten feet or more above the road alongside the Mission and contains hundreds of bodies because of the practice of burying on top of old graves.
Trees crop up on the overgrown road running through town—or at least, what was the town. A white washhouse with bars on the windows stands alone on one side of the road. The only other standing structure is the Mission’s white plaster outer wall, inset with dozens of arches.
Day 11:
The sun streamed down on the fields surrounding the castle. The red banners atop the battlements snapped in the breeze, and the brownish stone soaked up the sunlight with a warm glow. Peasants talked and laughed in the fields as they worked. Thick, golden masses of wheat waved over several fields interspersed with perfect squares of green vegetable patches.
A few clouds splotched the blue sky, pushed along by the breeze. A mutt of a dog—black and white patched, with tippy ears—yapped, and bounced after the little girl carry a fistful of wildflowers. She turned around, let him sniff the flowers. and scratched his ears. He wagged his tail.
…
Storm clouds piled in the sky, overshadowing the broken-down palace walls. A lone red banner—what was left of it—sagged in the breezeless air on the top of the scorched keep, its edges ragged and charred. The blackened stone seemed to utter a warning with its cold face.
Turn back.
A raven flapped over the ruins and let out a caw. His rasping cry shattered the silence and echoed over the empty fields.
The remainders of the burned grass trembled in a whisper of a muggy breeze.
Something stirred behind a rise. A skeletal dog staggered over the hill, weaving about, slowly wagging his head in a twisting pattern. His tongue drooped from his mouth between his yellowed fangs. A crazed, agonized howl escaped his throat.
Day 13:
My greatest tangible fears respectively are: demons, heights, dark water, and Great White sharks.
Day 14:
DeleteLandon flashed me a mouthful of coffee-stained teeth. Something dark peeked from between two teeth—lettuce, maybe. He jabbed his fork into his salad and took a bite.
“What say we grab lunch sometime?” he asked, chomping the iceberg lettuce with an open mouth.
I let out nervous laugh and turned back to my computer screen.
He snickered. “It’s okay.”
He took the hint that easily?
“You don’t have to feel shy about telling me yes.” A bag crinkled, and a blast of vinegar chips zinged into my nose.
I guess he didn’t. I kept my eyes straight ahead and kept typing up the client notes.
“What?” Landon asked.
I glanced to him on my right side and flashed what I hoped was an innocent face. “Nothing.” I half smiled.
He shoved a chip in his mouth. CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
I stiffened at the noise in my ear and turned back to the computer.
CRUNCH.
Didn’t he have work to do? I cleared my throat for a hint.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
I cleared it again, louder this time.
A soda can popped, and the air hissed in escape.
“Need a drink?” Landon pushed a Red Bull toward me and the medicinal cherry smell snaked up into my nose.
I took a deep breath and held it. “No thanks,” I said, keeping my voice as sweet as I could.
“You sure?” CRUNCH.
“Yeah.” This time, my voice came out tight and strained with holding my breath.
“I don’t mind.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled. “I’m fine.”
I shoved a stack of papers to him but took a second before speaking so I didn’t sound snappy. “Mind shredding these?”
“Shore thang.” Landon pulled his energy drink away from me and slid the papers closer to himself. He took a sip of the Red Bull, taking in only a bit at a time, slurping it into his mouth.
I chewed on my bottom lip.
He gulped and exhaled with an overexaggerated sigh. A mix of medicine, vinegar, and morning breath swirled around me.
It was too much. “Hey, Landon—”
“Yeah?”
His quick, eager answer caught me off guard, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him to shut up and go away.
“Uh, thanks for your help,” I said, glancing over to him. I offered a slight, hopefully not-too-annoyed-looking smile.
He grinned at me and fed a piece of paper into the shredder. ZZZZZZZZZZZZ. “So you never answered,” he said.
I cringed.
“What say we get lunch sometime?” CRUNCH.