OK, still lots of silence on the participation of others front, so I am going to truck on and submit another fictional response to keep me going.
Name: Jenny Brown
Best memory: tree climbing with her Dad before he died.
Unusual feature: birthmark on my left cheek in the shape of a malformed heart.
Always: says spoonerisms.
Is passionate about: animal rights.
Favourite possession: locket
Prefered pass-time: swimming in the sea/beach combing
Grew up: In a cottage in cornwall on the seafront beside a lighthouse.
Dreams of: hand-gliding one day, despite being afraid of heights.
Interesting feature: Dyslexic.
Here we go again...
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Ted's Bed
Ted had been rambling in his dreams again. He woke up with leaves in his hair and a great thorn protruding from his big toe.
“How did that not wake me up?” he said as he grasped it between thumb and forefinger and slowly extracted it. A little bubble of blood appeared and blossomed. He turned to the culprit. It looked as though it had come from a rose – it had that shark-fin quality, suggestive of incredible violence. He put it in the ashtray for safety.
How could something as beautiful as a rose have such sharp teeth? He thought as he lowered his lips to his toe. For most men who didn’t practise yoga this would have been an impossible feat, but Ted had remarkably long limbs that lent him the quality of a man on stilts. In his present position he looked like a crumpled spider.
He licked his toe and sat back to roll a cigarette. Where he had been and what homing beacon within had guided him back to the safety of his bed? He had only lived in this flat two months – how could he have known the way home? He licked the cigarette paper in an unconscious gesture and rolled a perfect cigarette without so much as a glance at it. His gaze reached out of the window, as he imagined the brambled path he had taken. What was he looking for? What had beckoned to him in the night, and what had he found? Hsi eyes returned to the thorn, defeated in the ashtray, but still angry.
A pile of clothes by his bed emitted a muffled beeping. He tossed the clothes aside and pulled his phone from the pocket some jeans.
“Mum?”
“Eddie! Is everything ok? … I had a bad dream … you were spinning, at a wheel, like they used to do in fairy tales… it sounds silly, I know, but”
“I’m fine Mum”
“But in the dream -”
“It was just a dream. I’m fine.”
He heard her voice relax, ever so slightly.
“Have you done any work today? You know Paul is coming over in 10 days to collect the Weir piece.”
Ted drew a deep lug on his cigarette.
“He can have it when it’s done and not a minute sooner. I told him not to bother booking his flight, but he wouldn’t listen.”
A swallow swooped down past the window with a twig in its mouth. He’ll be nesting, thought Ted. His mother sighed down the phone.
“Just promise me you’ll have something to show him – I don’t want him thinking you’re cheating him – he’s an old friend you know.”
“I’ve done a lot” he said, furrowing his brow “but to be honest I’ve run out of paint. If you could lend me some cash I’ll get more paint this afternoon in town.”
“Are you going in anyway?”
“Yeah, Gerry’s got some Cohen LPs for me he got dead cheap at a charity shop in Hertfordshire.”
“Oh that’s nice” she beamed. He could hear her smile. She loved his bohemian credentials.
“Listen Mum I’ve gotta go, the day’s getting on”
“You sure everything’s ok?”
“Yeah – fine. Will you put that cash in my account now?”
“Will fifty be enough?”
“That’s plenty,” he lied.
“OK, well come see me soon, won’t you? It’s almost been a month.”
“I’ll come tonight after I’ve seen Gerry.”
“Really?” she said, sounding like a small child.
“Yeah, be there for tea about 7.”
“I’ll make roast beef!” she almost squealed.
“See you Mum” he said and dropped his phone down onto the bed.
He’d sleep in his old room tonight and dream old dreams.
“How did that not wake me up?” he said as he grasped it between thumb and forefinger and slowly extracted it. A little bubble of blood appeared and blossomed. He turned to the culprit. It looked as though it had come from a rose – it had that shark-fin quality, suggestive of incredible violence. He put it in the ashtray for safety.
How could something as beautiful as a rose have such sharp teeth? He thought as he lowered his lips to his toe. For most men who didn’t practise yoga this would have been an impossible feat, but Ted had remarkably long limbs that lent him the quality of a man on stilts. In his present position he looked like a crumpled spider.
He licked his toe and sat back to roll a cigarette. Where he had been and what homing beacon within had guided him back to the safety of his bed? He had only lived in this flat two months – how could he have known the way home? He licked the cigarette paper in an unconscious gesture and rolled a perfect cigarette without so much as a glance at it. His gaze reached out of the window, as he imagined the brambled path he had taken. What was he looking for? What had beckoned to him in the night, and what had he found? Hsi eyes returned to the thorn, defeated in the ashtray, but still angry.
A pile of clothes by his bed emitted a muffled beeping. He tossed the clothes aside and pulled his phone from the pocket some jeans.
“Mum?”
“Eddie! Is everything ok? … I had a bad dream … you were spinning, at a wheel, like they used to do in fairy tales… it sounds silly, I know, but”
“I’m fine Mum”
“But in the dream -”
“It was just a dream. I’m fine.”
He heard her voice relax, ever so slightly.
“Have you done any work today? You know Paul is coming over in 10 days to collect the Weir piece.”
Ted drew a deep lug on his cigarette.
“He can have it when it’s done and not a minute sooner. I told him not to bother booking his flight, but he wouldn’t listen.”
A swallow swooped down past the window with a twig in its mouth. He’ll be nesting, thought Ted. His mother sighed down the phone.
“Just promise me you’ll have something to show him – I don’t want him thinking you’re cheating him – he’s an old friend you know.”
“I’ve done a lot” he said, furrowing his brow “but to be honest I’ve run out of paint. If you could lend me some cash I’ll get more paint this afternoon in town.”
“Are you going in anyway?”
“Yeah, Gerry’s got some Cohen LPs for me he got dead cheap at a charity shop in Hertfordshire.”
“Oh that’s nice” she beamed. He could hear her smile. She loved his bohemian credentials.
“Listen Mum I’ve gotta go, the day’s getting on”
“You sure everything’s ok?”
“Yeah – fine. Will you put that cash in my account now?”
“Will fifty be enough?”
“That’s plenty,” he lied.
“OK, well come see me soon, won’t you? It’s almost been a month.”
“I’ll come tonight after I’ve seen Gerry.”
“Really?” she said, sounding like a small child.
“Yeah, be there for tea about 7.”
“I’ll make roast beef!” she almost squealed.
“See you Mum” he said and dropped his phone down onto the bed.
He’d sleep in his old room tonight and dream old dreams.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Dry Run
As I've had responses nil I'm going to do a test run with a fictional character just so any potential readers can get the gist.
Name: Ted
Height: 6ft 5
Distinguishing features: Moustache and raven black hair and willowy figure.
Most common saying:
Last holiday: Croatia, 1 month. Parents paid even though I'm 26.
Spend most of my time: smoking or thinking about smoking.
Most often found: at the Hermit's Cave Camberwell sipping half pints of cider and looking out for one of my mates.
Can't say no to: Curly Wurlys and my Mum
Is enraged by: violence towards women
Once I: sleep-walked out of my house and locked myself out. Woke up in the back garden and was so embarrassed I pretended I had got up early and was roaming in the back garden to wake up. No one ever twigged.
Right...story coming right up...
Name: Ted
Height: 6ft 5
Distinguishing features: Moustache and raven black hair and willowy figure.
Most common saying:
Last holiday: Croatia, 1 month. Parents paid even though I'm 26.
Spend most of my time: smoking or thinking about smoking.
Most often found: at the Hermit's Cave Camberwell sipping half pints of cider and looking out for one of my mates.
Can't say no to: Curly Wurlys and my Mum
Is enraged by: violence towards women
Once I: sleep-walked out of my house and locked myself out. Woke up in the back garden and was so embarrassed I pretended I had got up early and was roaming in the back garden to wake up. No one ever twigged.
Right...story coming right up...
Monday, July 7, 2008
A Plea!
Roll up, roll up! I NEED to know about you! If you send me 10 facts about your life (whether they be regrets, hopes, achievements, simple facts or even bald-faced lies) I'll spin it into a story just for you and post it up on this blog. I'm doing this to flex my writing muscles (which have grown rather flabby of late), generate interesting story ideas, and, hopefully, for your efforts you'll end up with a little bit of prose dedicated solely to you which should make you, at the very least, smile.
My deepest gratitude and thanks for your time.
The Curious Cat
My deepest gratitude and thanks for your time.
The Curious Cat
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
