Friday January 11th, 2013

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: worry.

Nothing serious going on here, just the normal, usual worries of new parents inspiring a writing prompt.

Expecting a couple of visitors this weekend, one of whom hasn't had a chance to meet Max yet. Quite looking forward to that. The other visitors are Kat's friend and her two little girls, who have met him on a couple of occasions. I suspect Max would be looking forward to that, if he had any clue that they're coming.


Sitting at her desk and looking out the second-floor window, Olive could only purse her lips while shaking her head. Panic or fear would have been more appropriate responses. After all, the front lawn was crawling with the dead come back to life.

But the only image in her mind was of her husband, that very morning, telling her, "There's nothing to worry about - I've got it covered."


Greg said...

Sounds like you're all going to have a fun weekend, especially showing Max off to people. I'm still on the lookout for snow; it's getting almost cold enough, but the forecasts have pushed it back to Tuesday now, or maybe Monday. Which should cause the usual chaos with public transport...!
Poor Olive, I can completely see how her husband's words would be more worrying that the walking dead messing up the lawn. I hope he's got a surprise up his sleeve for her!

"You've got a dog." The farmer's words were curt, blunt, and wielded like a mattock as he stared as Maryann, his eyes locking firmly with hers.
"No, I don't," she said, telling herself mentally that a werewolf daughter was not the same thing as a dog, at all.
"Yes you have, and it's worrying the sheep," said the farmer, standing aside to reveal an ovine carcass on the floor behind him.

Marc said...

Greg - ah yes, I do not miss commuting to work in fresh snow.

Oh dear, that sounds like a situation that's not likely to end well. For the sheep, at least.