Seven Weeks of Writing

The past seven weeks of writer’s group have been wonderful. Seeing the progression in everyone’s writing has been a lovely experience. The group will be stopping for a few weeks for the Holidays and to give me a chance to re-energize. I’m hoping to pick up some of the stories I’ve started with the group and see where they lead. But until then here is one last story to entertain you until the group starts back up.

Juliana paced in the living room, one hand clenched, the other compulsively running through her hair. The curtains were drawn and the only light that was on in the house was in the hallway.

Juliana gnawed on her lower lip, “Why would you think this was a good idea?” she snapped.

Andy sat in shadow, in a dust covered chair, hands in his lap and shoulders slumped meekly. He didn’t reply. He knew she’d be livid when the news reached her and he hadn’t been wrong. If he kept his mouth shut eventually Juliana would calm down and be on his side again.

Her heels clacked angrily against the hardwood floor, momentarily muted as she paced over the out dated rug. “I mean, what is wrong with you? As if we weren’t in enough trouble already.” Her toes lifted as she spun about on her heels and stalked across the room once more. “Maybe they don’t know it was you.”

Andy’s spine straightened slightly, she was coming around.

Voices outside caught their attention and they both looked to the window, eyes trying desperately to pierce the heavy curtains. The creaks and groans of the old house whispered into the living room in the silent moment before the chaos began.

The brick came crashing through the window and landed at her feet. The tinkling of glass falling to the floor was musical compared to the guttural cries of anger filing in through the freshly emptied window frame.


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