The exercise:
Four lines of prose about: the gypsies.
A small bit of cheating today, as we get to write on a group of people rather than an individual. I really haven't clarified how this group will work in the story yet, but I know they'll be relatively important.
Two more countdown days and then the writing begins!
Last market of the season tomorrow. Thank goodness. Here's hoping the final day will be a good one.
Mine:
The family sat huddled around the struggling campfire, which cast ominous shadows over their dark faces and gave a red glow to their nearby wagon. The man, tall and thin, played a soft, lilting tune on a wooden flute while the woman nursed the baby and stirred the rabbit stew warming in the pot above the fire.
Gerald sat watching them from behind a tree, unsure if it was safe to approach, but hunger urging him to take the risk.
Marc - the scene is so vivid that I can imagine how the man with the flute looked like. I think you've captured the scene beautifully!
ReplyDeleteMine:
They jump right into the round wooden hot tub after walking up the stairs as soon as they are in their swimsuit. One of the boys in blue eyes and very much tanned skin grabbed the glass of red merlot wine from the table on his right, he bring it up and smell it before he devour it with a large “ah”, sounds like he got the relief that he need. He closes his eyes and then let his mind wander while he rests his soul and the worn out body after hiking. He starts to dream of the future and how wonderful it is before someone tapped on his shoulder and said: “Time’s up”
@Zhongming: well written! I can almost feel the weariness of your characters :)
ReplyDelete@Marc: good luck with the market tomorrow, and I bet you won't know what to do with yourself next weekend without the market to prepare for!
It seems that yesterday's guess about your announcement was wrong, so I shall try again. Today's guess shall be...: You've decided to increase the number of things you can take to market by adding fresh eggs to your list. You need chickens for eggs, and so you are currently sitting on a clutch of eggs eagerly waiting for them to hatch!
Oh, and as Zhongming already said, that's so much detail packed into just four lines of prose.
Gypsies
"Land is not owned, only lent to humans for a short time. Mother Nature keeps it all, and she gifts it as she sees fit," said the man with laughing eyes.
"I don't care," said Mrs. Whitgift waving her dustpan and brush aggressively. "You can't park your caravans on my lawn!"
Zhongming - thanks very much. I loved the ending to yours.
ReplyDeleteGreg - I'm sure (sleep) I'll figure (sleep) out something (sleep) to do.
Chickens are coming, but not quite yet :)
Wonderfully fun four lines :D
Marc- Is this going to become a habit? I hope not! I prefer to feel like I am on-time instead of late.... at least by my own terms.
ReplyDeleteLiked the gypsies. It very much so captures the genuine idea of the typically misunderstood group.
----
They stood tall as they walked through the small market in the center of the town. Stares followed them, filling their path with anger, mistrust, wonder, and joy. Sylvia made her spine longer as she walked by the men ogling her slim frame and calling rude, but lucrative, offers. Her troop wouldn't find it offensive if she chose to partake provided she shared her earnings. Having the heart of a gypsy and not the soul, she continued to walk to her wagon without a backward glance.
Oops.. a little "enter" happy apparently! I meant to tell you that I absolutely loved the squire piece you wrote. I think I would quite enjoy that duo. Please do post snippets of your story on occasion. Even if it is on protag, I will make a point of following it!
ReplyDeleteHeather - great scene, I could picture it perfectly.
ReplyDeleteAnd well... you should like today's announcement then :D