We’re Writing Again

Despite my hope to expand and revise some of the pieces previously posted (and some of those written but not posted) I didn’t touch any of the work I did with the writer’s group. I know, what a slacker! I was working, very productively, on other projects though. Which makes me feel much better about it but does nothing for your entertainment. But now the group is up and running again and I’ve got some pieces to share. Last nights prompt was There were twelve marbles in the jar. Interestingly enough this prompt pushed us to explore relationships. Thinking about the prompt now my mind still automatically goes towards an exploration of human interaction. I suppose there is something about marbles that just makes me want to share. Anyway, here’s what we came up with.

Story by Genevieve:

Taylor trudged down the stairs in slippered feet, teddy bear in hand, hair yet to be forced into submission by mum. It was early still but I hadn’t been able to sleep any longer. Mum on the other hand was enjoying her Sunday morning in bed, while Dad was away for the weekend.

Taylor mumbled sleepily as she joined me in the kitchen and climbed onto the chair beside me at the island. She plopped Teddy onto the counter and rested her head on the soft white fur of his stomach. “Morning James.” She said watching me through heavy lids.

“Morning Tay,” I replied sipping my orange juice, “You hungry?”

She nodded and reached for my crumb covered plate, “What’d you eat?”

“Peanut butter on toast, want me to make you some?” She nodded again, eyes beginning to light up. I’m not usually so nice to her, especially not this early in the day, but I owed her one… or more and she really was adorably helpless in the morning. I got up and put the bread in the toaster.

I guess without me in the way she could now see that her painted glass jar was missing. Taylor sat up staring at the plain white mug in it’s place. The look of confusion that passed over her face was heartbreaking. She had painted the jar herself, it was her pride and joy.  Before she could form the question I said, “I’m sorry Tay. I broke your jar.” I’ve never felt so bad in my life.

She looked at me blankly for a moment, trying to comprehend, then climbed across the chairs and pulled the mug closer, peering inside. She  poured the marbles onto my empty plate and counted. “There were twelve marbles in the jar,” she said tears brimming her eyes, “It was painted the colours of the marbles.”

 

Story by John:

“I have to tell you about the dream I had this morning Martha. I always have weird dreams when I sleep with the sun in my eyes. I should have closed the curtains. Anyway, this is what happened.”

Martha looked up from her magazine and adjusted her glasses. She didn’t look pleased. “Hmmm. Sure. Tell me about your dream Frankie. Be quick for a change. Thumbnail sketch, okay?”

“Well, you see, I was in that old shed at the back of the garden where we used to live in London. And for some reason, Polly was sitting on the shelf next to the stack of flowerpots, staring at me. Only it wasn’t really Polly. It was Polly’s face, but she had the body of a robot cat…”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” Martha began flipping pages.

“And next to this robot Polly was a music box, and it was playing a song. I’m not sure, I think it was In My Life by the Beatles.”

“Yes. And then. Come on Frankie, what else?”

“Well, there was a bunsen burner next to the music box and on it was a jar. And the burner had flames and sparks shooting out of it and were all over the jar.”

“Maybe it was cooking the jar, who knows?”

“See, but that’s the thing. There were twelve marbles in the jar. Twelve marbles. What do you think that means. Weird, eh?”

Martha was reading her magazine again, or at least she was doing a really good impression of someone reading it.

“Martha, what do you think this means?”

“Look, Frankie, I have no idea. But have you checked the eggs? They’re probably hard done now.”

“Martha, go back to your magazine.”

spacer