Thursday, May 31, 2012


This is my own writing. Since my move, I've not been able to focus well enough to do book reviews or critiques. I have, however, been able to do some very short writing exercises, and I thought I would share them. Now, I trust you all to keep my writing my own, so I lay claim to these words as my own. Kindly keep in mind we had a limited time to create these writings. This one was about 15 minutes.

Writing prompt:
a sweet kiss
a tender waltz
horrible warning

My Story:
Rupert was innocently crouched in the bushes beside the gazebo when his sister, Tam, and her boyfriend of the week, Craig, came out of the back of the house. 
Rupert was smoking cigarettes he'd lifted from his father's pack earlier as Dad lay sleeping in his recliner as NASCAR roared on the TV. He looked down at the girlie magazine he'd borrowed from his brother's mattress. He sure didn't see the attraction, but they had nice advertisements for cars and motorcycles. 
The screen door slammed as Tam and Craig strode through the rose bushes and mounted the steps to the gazebo. Rup ducked down a little, and covered the lit cigarette, cupping the smoke and hoping they were too focused on one another to notice the smell. He contemplated running, but he knew he would make way too much noise to escape unnoticed. 
Tam put her iPod into the cradle. It started to broadcast something slow and southern, exactly the music that was fingernails on a chalkboard to Rupert's ears. He shook his head as Craig encircled his arms about Tam's waist. They began to slowly turn, exchanging caresses and kisses while moaning. 
Rupert watched for awhile, then glanced back to the magazine that had fallen open. It was a photo of the strange things adults would do without clothing. He looked back at his sister, and was immediately struck with a vision of her and Craig in those poses. It was a visceral reaction, really. He shoved the magazine away screeching like a girl, dropped his lit cigarette onto the magazine which promptly burst into flames, and went tearing through the roses and into the house. He swore he would never, ever, ever again look at a magazine, smoke a cigarette or spy on his sister again.

So there you have it. A fast rendition of what the short prompt brings to mind. If you have constructive criticism, I would love to hear it! I hope you have a wonderful day!