Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

11 January 2023

Creative Corner - Writing Prompt 1



Writing prompt for today - 


You are looking down through the skylight as chefs prepare dinner for your ex-fiance’s wedding.


I am sat here, on the roof of the hotel where my ex love is getting married, peering through the skylight.  There are a million questions running through my head right now.  How did I get here?  How did it come to this?  Why has the bastard got the same cake design that we chose for our wedding?

Mark always used to tell me that I was too organised.  So organised it seems that I have helped him plan his wedding, to someone else.  How can it be that only nine months ago we were planning our own wedding yet here I am today, staring down at everything we had planned, but I’m not invited.

The kitchen is busy with waiters running around, chefs shouting to get the first course out; I see Mark stayed with the prawn and mango salsa starter that we had decided on. 

I only meant to take a peek around the door of the venue, how did I end up on the roof?  Now I am here, I’m not sure if I'm insulted or if I just want to laugh.  The menu looks to be exactly the one that we chose, the bespoke wedding cake that I had designed is there; I have no doubt that if I could see into the reception room, the place settings and decorations would be the same too.

Where is the bride in all this?  Where is Sarah?  When Mark left me, he told me that he wanted someone who wasn’t so fiercely independent.  Someone who would stay at home, have the children, become the perfect wife that he always wanted.  That has never been me. 

I always used to notice the way my friend Sarah looked at Mark.  The look of longing that she thought I didn’t notice.  Well I did, but never thought anything of it, until a week after he broke our engagement and I saw the two of them strolling hand in hand down the street.

I wonder what life she has chosen for herself.  Her own wedding, chosen down to the napkin holders by someone else, by me, the friend that she betrayed.  Not the best start to married life.  I thought I was over all of that, yet here I am, sat on the roof like some deranged stalker.

Ashamed, I move back to the edge of the building, looking round to make sure I won’t be seen as I descend the fire escape.  I wonder, have I made a lucky escape or has he?  He is the one in the wedding suit and I am crawling around on a roof.

I made it back down to street level and start walking around the building, anxious to get away.  I spy the wedding car pulling up to the front entrance in the distance and my heart starts to beat faster.  Do I hide, do I walk past; do I turn back?  Instead I linger at the corner, unnoticed by the people now crowding at the entrance.

Sarah looks happy, but also a little nervous (perhaps she thinks I am going to jump out of the bushes?).  Mark looks smug.  His loud voice carries down the street.  I hear him telling people that they are going to be amazed by the reception.  All his own work and planning.  He's taking credit for everything, as he always used to.

I smile to myself.  My heart stops it's relentless pounding.  I'm done with this man.  I wait for them to enter the hotel and then walk away, entering my own new life.

10 February 2014

Creative Corner 7

It has been a long while since I have done anything in the Creative Corner series.

I find myself happiest when I write an opinion piece but somehow the creative writing draws me back in now and again.  

This is actually a rewrite of one of my earlier stories, which had been taken from a writing prompt of "The First Step".  

So here is "The Second Step".  
They say all you have to do in life is take that first step. One step and you can change your direction, your purpose and it can take you somewhere you only could dream of before.
I disagree.
I have taken many first steps in my life and I can tell you that it isn’t the first step that counts at all. It’s the second. The first step is tentative, non committal and still uncertain. The second step is your decision.
My marriage has been a series of first steps. In the beginning, the first steps were always taken with excitement as to what was to come. Our first date, getting engaged; buying a house.
As time moved on however these first steps changed. The first time he hit me, the first time he used my body without my consent; the first time I threatened to leave him; my first hospital visit. None of these steps were taken with my permission but they definitely took me to places I had never been before, nor wished to be.
There is another first step, sitting hidden away at the back of the wardrobe in the guest bedroom. A step of my own making. A bag, packed with clothes, some money, my passport. My bid for freedom.
The problem is, I have taken so many first steps, do I have the courage to take the second?  The one that takes me out of the door and to a new life. My hesitant first step has been sitting there, whispering to me in the black of night to escape.  Fear is my constant companion.
You need mettle for the second step.
So why I am I telling you this?  It is merely to tell you what you already know; that the second step is harder than the first?  No.  I tell you because you can waste your life away debating on that second step.  I tell you because I've taken mine, and you can too.  
I have left him.