Sunday November 19th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the drop.

3 comments:

Greg said...

I think you're forcing me to be more creative when you don't provide me with any inspiration for the prompts; I have to sit here and think of my own ways to turn a few words into a story! Thank-you... I think.

The drop
Winter was gathering strength. The leaves had all fallen from the trees and they stood like grim sentinels along the street with their branches fiercely but nakedly aloft. They shuddered in the frequent cold blasts of air as the north wind stalked the concrete-paved streets in search of pedestrians to chill and litter to lift into the air in whirling spirals. Above white clouds scudded across a grey backdrop and there was the smell of ice on the air; snow was getting ready to fall.
Four floors above the ground in an attic room Stephen pulled the stained, coverless duvet from the bed and hauled it around himself. The old casement window was single-glazed and sat shakily in its frame letting heat seep out of the room faster than the small electric fan heater could return it. The lightbulb -- so old it was still incandescent instead of energy-saving LED -- hung from a dirty cord from the ceiling. The lampshade was on the floor somewhere; it had fallen off and he'd kicked it away. The duvet smelled of sweat and a sour note that he suspected was dried vomit, but it was warm at least. He shivered while he waited to warm up. The yellow electric light made his pale skin look jaundiced but his aching eyes could at least read the letter.
Dear Stephen, it began, your mother and I feel that it would be better if you did not visit us again.
He screwed it up, his hands closing convulsively on the thick, expensive paper. How dare they, he raged inside his head, but outwardly the only signs were hot tears at the corner of red-rimmed eyes and him rocking very slightly back and forwards. He tried to throw it away but his arms were caught in the duvet. Angrier still now he thrust the duvet away from him, his whole body shaking, and hurled the paper at the floor where it bounced twice and stopped. His teeth bit down on his bottom lip; the crumpled, outrageous letter was mocking him.
He shivered spasmodically, lurched to his feet and snatched the paper up off the floor. Then he was at the window, heaving the window up so he could be rid of the mocking words forever. He leaned out for the best range, and the wind slammed into him as though he jumped into ice-cold water. He fell backwards, stunned by the intensity of it, and though the drop inside was less than six feet to the floor, his head struck the edge of the bed on the way down.
Snow started to fall.

morganna said...

Falling falling down
Steep cliff – rocky mountainside
Rope catches – safe thump.

Marc said...

Greg - you're welcome! I'm pretty sure.

Now you know what I went through most nights for the last several years :)

Fantastic opening to set the scene. And that ending is... I don't know, I want to say vicious but that feels too strong. It certainly packs a punch at any rate.

Morganna - good to see you around these parts again :)

I'm not sure I've ever seen 'safe' and 'thump' together before, but it works incredibly well here. Those two words manage to tell the vast majority of the story - I am impressed!