Thursday July 12th, 2012

The exercise:

Write about something or someone that is: hiding.

The temperature went over forty again today. It's been a bit of a hard adjustment, seeing as the daytime highs last week are now the overnight lows.

Still not complaining.


The air in the cramped basement tasted like sweat and stale cigarettes, with a delicate hint of fresh urine. Sealed cardboard boxes lined all four walls, their innards filled with photographs, books, memories of carefree childhoods.

Their presence provided no comfort to the men forced to rub elbows, backs, legs against their dusty exteriors. In their minds they merely served to make the space even more claustrophobic.

Above them a lazy summer's afternoon lingered into the dinner hour, slowly transforming into a comfortable summer's evening. For those able to enjoy it, at least.

Below ground stomachs began to grumble. No food appeared to appease them.

No other sounds invaded the room, though surely each living soul within it yearned for the comfort and relief of a secure, snore-filled slumber.

Security, however, was still a mistress in a far away land.

But come nightfall they would attempt once more to travel a little closer to her waiting, welcoming arms.


Greg said...

Forty! That's a good reason not to live out your way if ever I heard one. I think I'd just melt into a greasy puddle if I had to try and live in that kind of heat. It's barely reaching twenty here in the day-time and I'm entirely happy about that :)
That's a very atmospheric piece, it feels like it's setting the scene now for the characters to step forward and start driving the story. Again, it's the small details that you fill your writing with that makes it so enjoyable to read.

Bad Kitty was perched on the huge round walnut table that filled the Council Chamber at the Council of Nastiness. The table looked like a prop from a James Bond movie, which Dr. Septopus was very proud of, and could easily seat thirty people around its circumference. Bad Kitty sat in the very centre, one leg stretched out and the other angled like a nineteen-twenties film star, and licked herself somewhere personal.
The Green Lightbulb coughed, not a quiet, attention-attracting cough, but a hacking, racking chesty cough that went on for longer than any listener was comfortable with. Bad Kitty looked up, a hair hanging indelicately from the corner of her mouth.
"He's hiding," spluttered Green. "I can't find him."
"Well he's supposed to be dead," said Bad Kitty. "I still don't understand how he escaped from me."
"He suggests that you pretend he's dead, and he'll stay hiding to make it seem real."
"But I want to eat him," purred Bad Kitty, and resumed her grooming.

writebite said...

marc, you are writing brilliantly lately - maybe the heat, fatigue and blood sugar are combining to make the struggling artist emerge?
me - i just moved again, tired, got nothing.

Cathryn Leigh said...

Hiding in the shadows,
Underneath the table,
HE listens for the Gods,
Reporting what he sees.

Deliveries of Necter
To save them all from pain,
His childish heart is broken,
Easily fixed by lots of love.

Everyone who meets him,
loves his curly locks,
And his cheeky spirit,
We just can't seem to get enough.

Long ago he had one sentence,
His only cliam to fame,
Then he cretp into my heart,
And my book's not been the same!

An Ode to Ryan, Bearson, Nigiri in training, and all around lovable rapscallion :}

Morrigan Aoife said...

There is no rock big enough
Nor no cave deep enough
No mountain is high enough
No lake or sea large enough
To conceal and keep me free
From all who I try to flee!

Marc said...

Greg - well, it's not *always* like this. I'm sure we could order in some more reasonable temperatures for you!

Thanks for the kind comments, glad you liked mine.

Loved the description of Green's cough :D

Writebite - thanks very much! Some days I feel more inspired than others, I suppose.

Hope you're sufficiently recovered from your move soon, so that you can share your writing with us again :)

Cathryn - hah, that's a great final stanza. Always interesting the way some minor characters just refuse to stay minor, isn't it?

Morrigan - haha, ain't that the truth. They always seem to find us.