Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Sunday September 25th, 2022
The exercise:
Hey, it's been a little bit since the last Random CD prompt, so why don't you pick a song and make use of its first line as your own opening today? And then, as per the usual routine, take it wherever you're inspired to go from there.
Ok, well, of the various bands I've been listening to lately, October Drift came up when a random track was selected, so this is what you're getting. I hope you enjoy :)
[DWP, 26th September, CD prompt] Webcam Funerals by October Drift
"I wish I was there but I'm covered in concrete here." "Say that again," I said, puzzlement vying with anxiety. Joshua always seemed to have a more exciting life than me but this was a bit extreme, even for him. I remembered the time he'd been unable to come to his own grandmother's funeral because he was stuck in the cone of a volcano after the climbing gear had got stuck on jagged volcanic rock and snapped, and a tinge of suspicion coloured my thoughts. "I'm covered in concrete here," he said, and to be fair his voice did sound a touch muffled. "There was a spill -- the foreman's already said that the mixer should never have been up there on the third floor, it's a clear H&S violatio--" "Josh," I said as my suspicions got stronger, "why were you even on a building site to begin with?" "Ah, well, I was taking a shortcut because I was running late because Suzie -- you remember Suzie, I think you met her, right? She was Andy's party, the one who brought the two bottles of Captain Morgan's thinking they were cough mixture -- well, she had popped round with some--" "You're scared of funerals, aren't you?" I said, my suspicions congealing into a solid, slightly unpleasant, mass. He went completely silent which, for a guy who talks as much as Josh, is as good as an admission. "Are you really covered in concrete?" I asked after the pause was long enough that even Josh wouldn't try to cover it up. "Only that stuff burns." "Yes, and I know," he said, sounding a little subdued. "They've dumped a bag of sugar on me--" My snort of laughter interrupted him entirely unintentionally. "No, really," he said, sounding a touch indignant. "It slows the setting down, and they're about to turn the hose on me to get it all off. There's an ambulance on the way, and they reckon I'll look like I've got bad sunburn for a couple of weeks."
"Right," I said, thinking that the thing about sugar did sound familiar from somewhere. One of my uncles had been a bricklayer for thirty years, maybe one of his stories...? "But you really went and took a concrete bath to get out of going to your sister's funeral?" "Well... yes. I hate them. I hate the way the people all gather around dressed in black like some kind of weird emotional vulture. They lean in and poke you like they're considering if you should be next, and they say things like, 'that could have been you, you know.'" "Your mother," I said, nodding even though he couldn't see me. Josh's family were just a touch ghoulish. "Or 'that should have been you, you know," he continued as though I hadn't spoken. "Your father," I agreed. "And the smell... there's always that smell, like disinfectant only way too strong. And the waxy faces and corpselike skin.... ugh." "It is a funeral," I said. "I mean, dead people do look a bit dead." "I meant the mourners," he said sharply. "Especially Em and her family." "Ah," I said, drawing the word out. I couldn't argue with him there; if she took her family to a waxworks show they'd probably have to get their IDs out to prove they were allowed to leave. "But if I just don't turn up it's 'disrespectful'," he said. "So I have to have a good enough excuse." "Like being stuck in a volcano or covered in concrete," I said. "Why don't you just Skype in?" "What?" "Skype in? Or Zoom, or teleconference, or whatever word you like. Join by webcam? Tell people you're worried about COVID still and that you want to be part of it, but not in person." There was a long enough silence that I began to worry that maybe the concrete was setting faster than Josh expected but then, finally, he said, "Huh. That's not a bad idea, actually. You're going right?" "For my sins," I said. I've got hayfever so much of my time at funerals is spent avoiding the usually bounteous floral displays. "Could you... skype me in?" "Of course," I said. "I'll let your parents know as well." "Thanks mate! Hey look, gotta go, they've got the hose now. Huh, it's bigger than I thought it woul--" There was a violent hiss and a crack, which I guessed was the hose turning on and blowing the phone out of his hands, but I figured at least he'd be able to watch the funeral from the ambulance without having to worry about turning into a statue while he did so.
3 comments:
Ok, well, of the various bands I've been listening to lately, October Drift came up when a random track was selected, so this is what you're getting. I hope you enjoy :)
[DWP, 26th September, CD prompt]
Webcam Funerals by October Drift
"I wish I was there but I'm covered in concrete here."
"Say that again," I said, puzzlement vying with anxiety. Joshua always seemed to have a more exciting life than me but this was a bit extreme, even for him. I remembered the time he'd been unable to come to his own grandmother's funeral because he was stuck in the cone of a volcano after the climbing gear had got stuck on jagged volcanic rock and snapped, and a tinge of suspicion coloured my thoughts.
"I'm covered in concrete here," he said, and to be fair his voice did sound a touch muffled. "There was a spill -- the foreman's already said that the mixer should never have been up there on the third floor, it's a clear H&S violatio--"
"Josh," I said as my suspicions got stronger, "why were you even on a building site to begin with?"
"Ah, well, I was taking a shortcut because I was running late because Suzie -- you remember Suzie, I think you met her, right? She was Andy's party, the one who brought the two bottles of Captain Morgan's thinking they were cough mixture -- well, she had popped round with some--"
"You're scared of funerals, aren't you?" I said, my suspicions congealing into a solid, slightly unpleasant, mass.
He went completely silent which, for a guy who talks as much as Josh, is as good as an admission.
"Are you really covered in concrete?" I asked after the pause was long enough that even Josh wouldn't try to cover it up. "Only that stuff burns."
"Yes, and I know," he said, sounding a little subdued. "They've dumped a bag of sugar on me--"
My snort of laughter interrupted him entirely unintentionally.
"No, really," he said, sounding a touch indignant. "It slows the setting down, and they're about to turn the hose on me to get it all off. There's an ambulance on the way, and they reckon I'll look like I've got bad sunburn for a couple of weeks."
"Right," I said, thinking that the thing about sugar did sound familiar from somewhere. One of my uncles had been a bricklayer for thirty years, maybe one of his stories...? "But you really went and took a concrete bath to get out of going to your sister's funeral?"
"Well... yes. I hate them. I hate the way the people all gather around dressed in black like some kind of weird emotional vulture. They lean in and poke you like they're considering if you should be next, and they say things like, 'that could have been you, you know.'"
"Your mother," I said, nodding even though he couldn't see me. Josh's family were just a touch ghoulish.
"Or 'that should have been you, you know," he continued as though I hadn't spoken.
"Your father," I agreed.
"And the smell... there's always that smell, like disinfectant only way too strong. And the waxy faces and corpselike skin.... ugh."
"It is a funeral," I said. "I mean, dead people do look a bit dead."
"I meant the mourners," he said sharply. "Especially Em and her family."
"Ah," I said, drawing the word out. I couldn't argue with him there; if she took her family to a waxworks show they'd probably have to get their IDs out to prove they were allowed to leave.
"But if I just don't turn up it's 'disrespectful'," he said. "So I have to have a good enough excuse."
"Like being stuck in a volcano or covered in concrete," I said. "Why don't you just Skype in?"
"What?"
"Skype in? Or Zoom, or teleconference, or whatever word you like. Join by webcam? Tell people you're worried about COVID still and that you want to be part of it, but not in person."
There was a long enough silence that I began to worry that maybe the concrete was setting faster than Josh expected but then, finally, he said, "Huh. That's not a bad idea, actually. You're going right?"
"For my sins," I said. I've got hayfever so much of my time at funerals is spent avoiding the usually bounteous floral displays.
"Could you... skype me in?"
"Of course," I said. "I'll let your parents know as well."
"Thanks mate! Hey look, gotta go, they've got the hose now. Huh, it's bigger than I thought it woul--"
There was a violent hiss and a crack, which I guessed was the hose turning on and blowing the phone out of his hands, but I figured at least he'd be able to watch the funeral from the ambulance without having to worry about turning into a statue while he did so.
Greg - well, that certainly is a fantastic opening line to work with!
Hah, and you did rather wonderful things with it. I think I'd like to tag along with Joshua again some time :)
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