Thursday November 10th, 2016

The exercise:

Write about: the rotation.

Spent the morning trying to get over the last of my migraine. Spent the afternoon helping our friends up on the mountain continue to get settled into their new place. Did a lot of chopping of wood, which was not bad considering how beautiful a day it was.

I am very tired now though.

Kat has a counselling client tomorrow morning, so that means I've got the boys. I should probably get some sleep.

Edit: argh, not again. Apologies.


"You almost got it, dude. Come on, give it one more try."

"Nah, bro. I'm done. I can't do this."

"Dude! That's no way to talk in front of the ladies!"

"Bro, this is impossible. Look at me. This body is not meant for this crap, okay?"

"Nuh uh, dude. You got this. Just, like, take your time. Give 'er as much of a windup as you need to get enough speed. I totally promise it'll work this time."

"... fine, bro. But if I don't pull off all the rotations on the triple Axel this time, I'm throwing these figure skates in the trash and going home."


Greg said...

I like how you mention sleep and then... fall asleep. There's something pavlovian going on there I think, but on the positive side, if you never think about sleep again, maybe you'll be able to stay awake forever!
I would never have guessed that your narrators were talking about figure skating, so the ending was a nice surprise for me. Re-reading it, everything fits really neatly into place, nothing feels forced, and the conversation changes subtly which is really nice. And I sympathise completely with the guy who wants to throw the skates in and go home :)

The rotation
There was a moment of silence in the hallway, and then Alice turned to Phillip and made a small gesture. They went through into the sitting room: a room dominated by the vase of flowers set on a table in the middle of the carpet. There were chairs arrayed around, a newspaper on a side-table, a set of dominoes on the windowsill, and gas-lamps on the walls. The sight of the gas-lamps triggered a memory instantly, and Phillip paused for a moment, remembering their yellow glow and the sour scent when they burned: his mother was sat in a high-backed chair and Alice's mother was standing, one pale hand resting on the back of another chair. The conversation was polite but stiff, and with the advantage of age he now realised that the conversation had been tense. It was the last memory he had of this house; after that they hadn't visited again. How many years ago was that now?
"Men," said Alice, patting a seat. He sat. "Present company excepted of course, but if I may speak frankly, are manners so hard to come by?" Unsure of what to say Phillip nodded. "Might I get you some tea? By way of insufficient apology for those two?" Phillip nodded again, and then realised that Alice was doing all the talking.
"I have a few more questions for them still," he said. "This drunk man, for instance, a description would be useful."
"When they are better dressed," said Alice, and went to fetch the tea.

She returned some moments later and sat down in a chair opposite Phillip, a respectable distance apart for people who knew each other as children and had seen little of each other since. She asked him about his job, a lady's curiosity without prying, and he found himself enjoying telling her of the mundane things he did when not investigating the sparse crimes that came his way. He was interrupted in explaining how the Council were proposing to set up a public hygiene facility by the clatter of crockery, and Angelo came into the room carrying the tea-tray and looking... Phillip sought for words for a moment, and finally grapsed them: Angelo looked both chastened and cocky. Behind him came Bogdan, carrying his slate and china pencil in one hand, and the sugar bowl in the other. Alice indicated a table, where the tray was carefully sat down, and then the two men stood, like naughty boys, behind her chair while she served tea in two cups.
"What would like to ask them, Phillip?" she said as she poured.

Marc said...

Greg - hmm, I shall have to give never thinking about sleep a try!

Hah, thanks!

This was not the continuation I was hoping for as I worked through Haiku Tuesday and the House of Mercy prompt, but I am pleased to see it regardless! And I can appreciate how you might need a change from all writing about Ernest and his adventures.

These four are an interesting group, with intriguing strings tying them all together. I look forward to seeing how this tale plays out as well :D