So my life has gone back to the normal university thing where I seem to be tired all the damn time. This does mean I will be writing more. Might even post a segment from my novel, if I get much more written in the near future.
Speaking of writers, check out this blog. Her name is Rosianna, and she’s already a bigish deal on You Tube (and you should follow her, very good channel) but she also does a blog. Check it out
Meanwhile, here is aice little piece from Creative Writing. Enjoy x
In mid air, at the centre of the room, the glass, seconds before impact on the clean floor tiles. The last chord, B sharp minor resonates and pulses slowly and the crooning voice of the singer fades into silence. A burning cigarette in my mouth, but I was not breathing in, and it continues to burn-burn-burn like some awful fuse, dripping ash onto the floor. Those five words hung in the air like a gas, like carbon monoxide that slowly and without and warning or odour kills everyone in the room. That ugly elephant that was in the room is now visible for all to see, but now we can ignore it no longer.
The guest all gasp as the words take full effect and the wine glass finally hits the floor, sending red and clear shards in each and every direction. The band remains still, sitting poised to play the next note, while the last hangs in the air, their silence allowing this scene to play out as it does.
The white dress is now stained with specks of red around the bottom and a piercing shriek. Never to be worn again, but now stained permanently, the white dress looks sullied, much worse than it actually is. The red would come out, if you took it to the right people. Tears hit the floor in slow motion, starting as a circular drop, hitting the floor and flattening out, the outsides rising in a strange and unique shape.
His words feel as though they left his mouth a long time ago, the silence folding the real timeline, though the words still hang in the air like a speech bubble in a comic book. His tongue is caught between his teeth, not regretting, but scared of the repercussions. These words about love and are met with shouts, all concerning money and respect, her father taking a step forward, striking the young man with a blow to the face, blood bubbling up under the skin of his cheek that he would later notice, staring into the mirror of his hotel bathroom. Blood hits the floor as a tooth snaps cutting the inside of his tongue, blood flowing over his teeth as he shouts at his attacker. More red hits the floors, but by now this is no surprise, the pool trapped underfoot as he turns to leave.
The father is pulled off, and somebody throws over a napkin to the bleeding man, the man who everybody in the room knows. He looks over to the bride, and everybody knows what the look means. She once again kneels down to see if her new groom is okay, but he pushes her away.
“I can’t believe I was the only one who didn’t know!”
A plain silver ring hits the floor Moments later, a waiter is on hand to clear up the mess, the glass, blood and wine.