Well that’s month one down and by Jove, have they knocked it out the park this time! Given a few hours to play with the voting page, you’ll be able to vote for your favourites and talk about your enemies and whatever arty people do…
Onto this month’s writing challenge! I was discussing with a dear confident that there’s not enough time to do things and how time waits for no man, before eagerly waiting for time to pass so I could go for a weekend away with the lovely one, at some point I started looking into the idea of a class for DnD that plays with time.
HAVE YOU WORKED OUT WHAT THE THEME IS FOR THIS MONTH YET?!
The writers have one simple yet large stimulus for this month’s writing challenge. Time. Discuss it, slag it off, let it wile away whilst you think of an idea. Whatever you do, just don’t run out of it!
As always, your example piece.
Too-du-loo!
Time After Time
She closed her eyes, took him by the hand, and they walked away forever.
The final words felt like an eternity as she typed the ending sentence of the novel and closed the document. Glancing at the violently red digital clock slicing through the darkness on the edge of her desk, she could see it was 04:32am and that she had broken another promise. She closed the laptop and padded gently to the kitchen to grab a glass of milk before ascending the creaky staircase to the bedroom where she could already hear him in deep sleep; the broken promise didn’t feel so bad knowing that she would have to kick him to stop the snoring…
The Writer gently pushed the door open, though forgot about the small dog and it’s ability to find the most inconvenient of sleeping spaces and the silence was broken by a sharp yelp as the poor Westie was awoken from his dream of finding the biggest bone a dog had ever seen; but that’s a story for another time.
“Barchimedes, sic ‘em.” The bass heavy half asleep voice gently called from the other side of the room. The pint sized patrolman jumped up from behind the door and excitedly slalomed between The Writer’s legs as she tried not to stand on him. The Musician, no longer testing the patience of the sleeping world, sat up rubbing his eyes.
They were an unexpected pairing. She was slim and beautiful, with an air of grace to her that covered her immaturity only briefly. He was rounded and clumsy but had a heart that meant well, though covered with a half pretence of menace. Barchimedes was just adorable.
“Did you finish it?” He asked in the darkness. She didn’t need the light to see the half sloping grin on his face as he looked her way, it was there every time; without fail.
“You’re meant to be asleep,” she chided, though with a smile backlit by the hallway lamp so he didn’t panic.
“I was, until some nefarious ne’er-do-well tried to break in and steal the family heirlooms.” He lay back down and waited for her to join him, waiting for the sarky comment.
3 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 1…
“They’re not family heirlooms until they’re past down, y’eedjit.” She seemingly glided across the room and slid under the duvet and remembered on of the reasons she kept him around; the furnace heat was luxurious in comparison to the autumn chill in the study. And so she slept…
Their fingers intertwined, like the teeth of two cogs running side by side in the old pocket watch.
The Musician sat on the end of the bed, Barchimedes sat vigilantly by his side with as pride as a short Westie Terrier could. The only noise in the room, other than the gentle thrum of the heating was the tick of pocket watch he held in his hand.
“She’ll be in a minute, boy. Stop fretting, it’s going to be okay. We’ve prepared for this. Will you straighten your tie! Oh I know you’re a dog, quit reminding me.”
The door latch echoed up the stairwell and the two took their positions.
“You in?” She called from downstairs.
“We’re upstairs! Got a surprise for you.” He called back, brushing his shirt and hair into some sort of tamed affair.
A few seconds pasted and the bedroom door opened. She stood in her usual work clothes, the ones she liked herself in but wouldn’t say she looked anything special by, yet the smile on his face and the bouncy dog at his side contradicted the thought entirely. He held out the pocket watch and dropped to one knee.
“So erm, want to run away with me and never look back?”
She could see in his face he was trying his upmost hardest to pull off the John Belushi puppy dog eyes. She saw the flowers surrounding the walls, all whites and yellows; her favourite colour. She could see the ring missing in his hand…
“Aren’t you meant to offer a girl a ring?” She said, placing her hand on her hip and looking mock offended.
“Okay, hear me out before you turn and leave,” the puppy dog eyes had widened to fox in the headlights. “A ring is great and all, and you can hand that down to your kids when they’re older…”
“Oh we’re having kids now?” The foot gently starting to tap in mock frustration.
“Just shut up and listen will you? You can give a ring to your kids when they’re older but then you’ve got to stop wearing it or be dead so they get it afterwards. It’s all a little complicated so I spent some time thinking about it and this is what I got.”
He clicked open the pocket watch to reveal the inscription ‘With every second, the heart grows fonder’ had been engraved on the inside of the door and the ornate golden numbers around the face had actually been painstakingly forged to look like her handwriting. Sat on the middle of the timepiece, thin and beautiful, sat a silver ring with blue gem.
“So I’ll ask again, will you run away with me and never look back?”
Time stood still, allowing the two to pass as welcome friends.
The final words felt like an eternity as she listened to the doctor before he closed the document. Glancing at the violently red digital clock slicing through the darkness on the edge of his bed, she could see it was 04:32am and that he had broken another promise. She closed her eyes and listened to the doctor padding gently to the kitchen to grab a glass of milk for her before ascending the clinical staircase to the waiting room where she could already hear him explaining to the now grown up kids that their father had passed. The broken promise didn’t feel so bad knowing that he had spent his last moments with her and her alone.
She closed her eyes, took him by the hand, and they walked away forever.
Novel Dreamers 