Last week I tried my hand at the Write on Wednesdays challenge from Ink Paper Pen. It’s Thursday here now, but I thought I’d give it another bash. I don’t write very fast so the 5min rule is a little restrictive. With that in mind, I’ve written two pieces for you. The first piece is in line with the challenge below, and the second piece is a simple “Set the timer and write”. I went a little over 5mins for the second piece. Maybe 8?
Here are the details of WOW:
Write On Wednesdays Exercise 7 – Sit under a tree and write: Find yourself a quiet spot. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Take a look at Kristy’s Tree Photo. Write the first words that come into your head. Keep writing whatever comes into your head. Stop when the buzzer rings. Do this exercise over and over if you wish. If like me, you struggle with visual prompts, perhaps try sitting under a tree to write. I have heard that changing your usual writing place can spark new inspiration. Try it and see. Do both if you please!
Ariettie peered her head out from around the edge of the tree. It looked safe enough, but there are a great many things that pose danger to you when you’re barely 8 inches tall.
“Has he gone?” a timid voice asked from behind her.
“I think so…” Ariettie responded with little confidence.
“Oh good!” Her younger sister skipped out from the hidey-hole the tree had concealed them in. “I was getting awfully cramped in there.”
Ariettie cast a glance back over her shoulder. Her sister had a flair for the dramatic. The cosy little spot they’d made home for the night would make a great little penthouse…with some work of course…and not in the traditional sense of a penthouse, seeing as it was on the ground and all.
She scolded herself for letting her mind wander to trivial things. The fact remained that the threat was still there. Just because they couldn’t see him didn’t mean that he’d gone.
All she could see was white. White clouds, white trees, white road, white flowers. So crisp, sterile, uninviting. She hadn’t always thought this way. She remembered when she first arrived, the excitement of something new, different, challenging.
Challenging was right. The novelty had worn off after a while and sensory deprivation had kicked in. When you’re the only colour in a world without any, it’s easy to lose your own. Crisp, heavenly and serene had turned to mundane, bland and monotonous. She longed for escape.
She looked up, jarred from her thoughts. Thoughts of what exactly? She wasn’t sure. Even her thoughts had turned to white in this place.
By the door, a pair of white gloved hands pushed through her meal. White plate, white mug. The meal was rice and a glass of milk. More white. She wanted to scream, but who would hear her?
“Wait!” She grabbed at the hand. It snatched away, frightened. “Please!” She cried “Something different!”.
She heard the footsteps echo away don the hall. Leaving her alone in her white hell. What seemed like a small eternity followed, during which time she choked down the bland, gluggy rice. Eventually, the footsteps returned.
“Incoming.” The voice said again, monotonously.
She looked at the hole in the door, eagerly. The hand pushed through a white sheet of paper. She sighed forlornly.
“Wait” The voice whispered. “I have something else for you!”.
Into her hands she pressed a solitary red crayon.