Friday February 11th, 2011

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the last night.

Saturday night will be our final night in Jamaica, and I suspect I will be thinking of it by this point already.

Note: I'm away on my honeymoon so this is a scheduled post.

Mine:

He kept to himself that night, even more than he usually did. It seemed like he was constantly looking over his shoulder and jumping at shadows. You could hardly blame him though.

Nobody wants to get shivved on their last night in prison.

10 Comments:

Thinkenstein said...

Last night was like no other. Mother warned for years and perhaps promised. But for years I knew she'd never do it. She'd never do it - til last night.

Heather said...

Marc- I've just realized that I haven't commented on any of your writing, or very little of it, over these last two weeks. Of course, it was all well written! Although that should come as no surprise. I particularly enjoyed the ease of the destruction in the last piece and the sense of danger in this piece. They both played out really well.

Thinkenstein- So, what was it she wouldn't have done????? After the reports about the mother who just took her teenagers lives, I can't help but associate your piece with a heavy darkness.

Greg- Wow! I'm so glad you called my attention to 'widdle'! I so rarely proofread what I write (to avoid making drastic changes) that I would never have caught it. It should have read whittle. Oops!

------

We watched, our breaths held in anticipation, as the final scenes played out. Soon, we would be able to greet her, the star of this play. Her scene ended to thunderous applause. Her last night on Earth completed and her soul rising to our warm embraces.

gada said...

The Last Night

They had been sitting on the swing for quite some time, looking at the sun setting and the stars peeking out one by one. It was her last night there, and whenever he thought about it something twisted inside and he had to fight to keep the frown off his face.
He had become confused around this girl,even tongue tied, not something that happened often...whenever she smiled at him fireworks went off in his stomach, and his heart beat a little faster.
Slowly though, being with her all day, he had come to a realization. He liked her.
And he didn't have much time left to do anything about it.
So as she looked up at the stars, he gathered up his courage and took her chin in his hand to her shock, kissed her softly and walked away.
How else was he going to make sure she remembered him.

gada said...

Im not that good at keeping to the length...sorry.

Thinkenstein said...

Heather - I intentionally left it "open to interpretation" to see what the reader thought happened but your feeling of "heavy darkness" was right on (she committed suicide).

summerfield said...

The last night that Veronica was in Manila, she had promised herself it would be the last time she would visit. Even though she had reconnected with a lot of her friends, Manila is still hellishly hot, her relatives painfully unbearable, and money gets spent like it was going out of style. But four years later, the phone call came.

Now, she's on the plane back.

Greg said...

@Thinkenstein: Very sparse, and very suggestive at the same time. I agree with Heather, there's strong hints of something dark in there.

@Heather: Whittle makes a lot more sense! Yours is a very warm, happy take on someone's last night on Earth; it's a pleasure to read.

@gada: You're not hugely over the sentence count, and it is only a prompt after all! Yours is very sweet.

@summerfield: there's story there that's not being told! I love the suspense that you've created in such a short space.

@marc: I hope the plane-trip back is a good one, and everything has to come to an end so that you can appreciate it when you remember it :)
I completely agree with your narrator's sentiments!

The last night
Who says cobblers can't have fun? Jack was stood at the bar, clutching a glass of punch and looking around at a small number of very drunk shoemakers. At the opposite end of the hall was the display of lasts, and some cobblers were still there, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the antiquities. Last night was always something special.

David said...

The sun charred what remained of her skin. She wanted to cry, but there wasn’t enough moisture to produce tears. She remembered the days when she would lie on the beach, lathering herself in tanning oil. She longed for an ice age.

Thinkenstein said...

I think if I had added "The" to the first sentence, making it "The last night was like no other", it would have made it slightly more evident that suicide was the subject. What do you think?

P.S.
I'm new here and would like to say hi to everyone. I am not a writer but I have wanted to be for a long time. Laziness, fear, or some other thing has kept me from the pursuing this desire but I'm hoping this site will provide the motivation I need to write something everyday. Any help and constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you.

Marc said...

Thinkenstein - very nicely done. As per your comment about adding 'the' to the first line, I'd agree with you that it would increase the clarity.

I'm glad you found this blog and I hope that my prompts and our collective feedback will be of some use to you :)

Heather - no worries at all. It's a bit different when I'm not around to read/respond to any feedback that's given.

Fantastic final line.

Gada - beautifully done. I could completely sympathize with the protagonist.

Also: it's all good. I can hardly complain when people write more than I requested, now can I? :)

Summerfield - just when you think you've escaped, they claw you back in... nicely done :)

Greg - ah, you've gone with the alternative definition of last again! I can't remember what the prompt was previously, but as soon as I saw 'shoemaker' it triggered it for me :D

Great job, as usual. Definitely made me smile.

David - you've totally captured my attention with that. Definitely wouldn't mind reading more of it.