So, continuing on from what I started yesterday, I will be writing another short piece of prose based on inspiration from The Writer's Toolbox. Today, I will be using one of the 'Non Sequitur' sticks, coupled with a new, different 'First Sentence' stick.
Obviously this writing is experimental and will definitely not be the best example of my work. It is simply for fun, and to keep the creative side of my brain active. It'd be just as easy to keep these to myself, but I thought it'd be fun to put what I create out there, and it provides some nice material to go on this blog!
As for my life, well, studying Professional Writing at University is (finally) in its last year. Just my Final Major Project and all the accompanying (aka boring) assignments.
Three new textbooks turned up this morning, which will go into the pile of books that I have not read. I'll try and skim through and read some relevant sections eventually, but hey, who knows when that will happen. I mean, in all likelihood it will happen the night before an assignment is due and I need something relevant to reference in an essay or something, but hopefully I'll read them before then.
I think 'textbook' is a flawed way of referring to them, too. At their most basic function, books are made up of text. You have picture books, sure, and comic books too, but these are subcategories of books, defining themselves as different. Textbooks, on the other hand, which are usually associated with learning, be it school, college or university, are tautologous in their moniker. Maybe a better way of referring to textbooks would be 'learning books'. Although this sounds something too much like 'Batman's ABC's' or something you would buy for a five year old. Maybe 'educational books'? I guess that's too many syllables. I have to hand it to the word, Textbooks is short and snappy. I guess until somebody comes with something just as short, but less tautologous and more relevant, we'll be stuck calling educational non-fiction books designed for learning 'textbooks'.
Well, that rant was a bit random and got slightly out of hand, so, let's get on with the writing! This time I'm gonna write for ten minutes from each stick, so twenty minutes total.
First Sentence Stick - 'Michael sat down in the middle of the road and began to cry.' -
Non Sequitur Stick - 'On the following Friday, we packed our bags and planned our escape.' -
--
Michael sat down in the middle of the road and began to cry. The wind howled in all directions about him. The car engine hissed behind him as it lay, broken, crumpled like the rest of the car around the thick trunk of the tree. His father lay half-in, half-out of the passenger side, as Michael had attempted to pull him free of the wreckage. His grandfather, the driver, was covered in blood. Michael hadn't been able to open his door, as it was against the hedge.
Something caught Michael's eye in the darkness, a light coming from his father's pocket. The intermittent buzzing of the phone also pricked up Michael's ears. He wiped his eyes, stood up and limped over to his dad. He picked up his father's heavy arm and shifted it to one side, pulling the device from his dark blue jeans.
His Mum was calling. Michael had seen his Dad answer the phone many a time, a quick slide across the touchscreen and you could get to talking. He drew one small finger across the relevant button and - nothing. The phone didn't start the call. His Mum must have stopped ringing.
Suddenly, movement, his Dad's arm shifted back to where it had been before, hanging down at his side.
'DADDY!' yelled Michael. His eyelids fluttered, but ultimately stayed closed. Michael poked him in the ribs, he grunted.
'Mike... Mike...' said his Dad, barely a whisper.
'Yes, Daddy, what should I do?!'
'Call... 999...' came the faint reply. And with that, his father's eyes closed again.
'Daddy?' No response this time.
Michael returned his attention to the phone. He slid the unlock button across the screen, but the phone asked him for the four-digit passcode. His Dad had changed it after he'd caught Michael phoning half the numbers in his phonebook when he was meant to be playing a game. Michael regretted it now. He tried typing in 999 for the passcode. Nothing happened.
There was another button towards the bottom, Michael tried it. This time, and new set of numbers came up. He typed in the numbers again and the phone began to ring through.
'Hello? Please state the nature of your emergency.'
---
On the following Friday, they packed their bags and planned their escape. That was how Michael's Mum sold it to him anyway - an adventure. Her and Michael's father had argued a lot since the accident, and his Grandad was still in the hospital. His father was there now, visiting him.
Mum threw some clothes onto Michael's bed, where he was sat.
'Put those in your bag for me, would you Mikey?'
Michael picked them up with his small, child's hands and threw them haphazardly into the large hold all. His Mum turned around.
'No, no, not like that honey. Like this,' she said, picking up a pair of trousers. She folded them neatly and placed them in one side of the bag. Michael picked up a t-shirt, folded it roughly in half, then half again, then put it in the holdall.
'Close enough.'
'Mummy. Why do we have to leave? What's going on?'
'I told you, Mikey. We're going on an adventure.'
'Going to Nan's isn't an adventure, Mummy.'
She sighed, then hung her head, before slowly turning around to face Michael. She knelt down and put her hands on his knees, so their heads were level.
'Mikey. Grandad isn't very well, okay, Daddy is getting very stressed and angry, and he's taking it out on Mummy. We just have to go and stay at Nan's for a few weeks until this all blows over, yeah?'
Michael nodded, not fully understanding, but getting the general idea.
'Can't Daddy come too?' inquired Michael.
'No... Mikey. Sorry. That's kind of the point,' She couldn't look Michael in the eye. 'Mummy and Daddy just need to sort a few things out, then we can get back to how things were.'
'Okay Mummy.'
Michael continued to put his things in the bag, folding them neatly. His Mum's phone rang, she saw it, Michael saw it, and both went to grab it.
'Not this time, Mikey. I know I usually let you answer for family but this is important, okay?'
He nodded. She answered the phone.
'I see. Okay. Alright. I'm sorry to hear that.'
She hung up, then dropped the phone. And with that, Michael's Mum dropped to the floor, put her head in her hands, and began to cry.
--
Well... That ended up a little darker than I expected, but drama and conflict are the heart of narratives, so they say.
Tune in next time, for more exciting and short stories! But no really please do read tomorrow.
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