Week 5 Creative Writing with WEA

Q; Write a scene in which two people engage in a heated quarrel, include both dialogue and descriptive body language, try to portray feelings as well as telling the reader about the characters.

He was in the house again. Sophie could hear the heavy steps of her father in the hallway, she could hear the soft scuttling of her mother in the kitchen. Tonight was going to be different. He had promised them, no more, no more arguing or fighting.

“Kristie did you need something?” David could see the papers, his papers, on his desk, they had been moved.

“No, I’m fine the children are all in bed. How were Frank and Grace? Did you fix their computer?” Kristie asked as light hearted and natural as she could, although in the back of her mind she wondered. Had she moved the papers? Had she been cleaning near there today and knocked them? Or had the children run past the desk when playing, maybe they had moved them accidently?

“What? Do you really want an answer to your stupid questions? Would I be here now if I hadn’t fixed the god dame computer? Frank and Grace are the same as yesterday when you saw them in the supermarket. They thought that I would like to hear all about the wonderful afternoon they spent talking to you in Wal-Mart” He dropped into his office chair and put his black leather bag beside it. He looked at the coffee rings on his desk, typical he thought. she’s out shopping all day and hasn’t even wiped the desk over. He dared to look over at the sink, yep washing up still waiting on the side from dinner. He had been able to fix a hard drive and explain office 2000 to an old man yet again since dinner, but what had she done? Not even the dishes.

“Would you like a coffee? Have you got much more to do?” Kristie thought it best to just change the subject. She realized too late she done that double question thing he hated so much. Her heart began to beat a pace faster she clenched her teeth. Had he noticed? Of course he’s noticed but will say anything?

David rolled his eyes to the back of his head. Why did she do that? She didn’t used to that dumb, babbling question after question. Kristie used to be funny and smart, most of all she used to be helpful. He took a deep breath in and spun his chair around to face her. Oh god she was doing the face, the face told him she was either going to walk away or start crying for no reason.

“How about you answer my question first” he began

“Sorry, which question?” Kristie couldn’t recall not answering a question, she was always careful to listen. She knew how important it was to David that you must listen. His eyes were beginning to burn into her, best look at the floor. I mustn’t give him cause to be angry with me. I mustn’t wake the children.

“Why were you snooping in my papers?” he was sure now, Kristie was defiantly up to something. She couldn’t even look him in the eye that said everything he needed to know!

Sophie hugged her legs behind her bedroom door, she listened in the darkness. Yes, he was in the house again.

Week 4 Creative writing with WEA

Q; Today we visited St George’s church Kidderminster use the experience to write a short story or Travel piece about the church. (Include word count and header)

 

She stood at the bottom of the long sloping drive once more. Her collar turned up against the cold January wind, the bells were still ringing. Good she was not yet too late for Sunday service.

St George’s tower was a gray monolithic in the Kidderminster skyline. She pondered for the moment how the skyline had changed over the years, yet still he stood tall and strong against the winds of change. She wondered if he were alive, could he see his daughter churches of St Chad’s and St Cecilia over all the scurrying below.

Mandy had been to many places in her thirty years of life. Yet for reasons unclear she would always return to this cold old industrial town, middle England, middle class. She walked past the tall trees along the driveway, not as tall has the magnificent dark green pines of the Northern Rockies that she had lived with. Her heart ached a little for the huge openness of Canada. Mandy missed the clean air and the deep evergreen smell of those cherished days.

Pauls Jeep all shiny and black was parked close to the entrance; Mandy knew this meant Granny was already seated in her old hardwood pew. “Gann’s pew” Mandy smiled to herself, seventh from the back, not quite the middle, not too far away from where the clergy could see her presence but also not so close as to look un-Anglican. It was this kind of English behaviour that would have made her friends in Nevada and Utah laugh so much. There a jeep was used for the purpose it was designed for and very few where in the shinny category. Salty sand of the Great Basin Desert soon put nice paint jobs to brown work trucks. When it rained and snowed all that you could see was muddy wheels and snow covered hoods, not chrome alloys and a sun roof. Still it was good to know she was still going to church, it was reassuring to know that something’s in this world don’t changes as quick as the weather in the desert or the wind in the mountains.

Mandy paused in the towers entrance to straighten herself out a little before entering. How she wished mother had not insisted on her wearing a skirt to church, there was no written rule about this it was another of those “its what’s expected” things. It didn’t matter really she remembered how granny always used to tut at Ms Barkers huge bright colourer dresses and leggings. That lady’s floral patted scarf’s and mad curly hair were perfect for a Sunday school leader. She was brilliant and as good a reason for a young Mandy to have gone to church as any sermon they would preach to the adults.  How strange it was to think back now. Mandy’s mother brought her here on the day she was born to be blessed, here not straight home or to Granny’s house. Years on Mandy too bought little Jessica to show her to family and friends even though both were sick and weak. This entrance she had sheltered her when the big rain storm hit Kidderminster and Mandy had to wait for her farther to rescue her. It was so sad to see the huge gate that had to be install to keep vandals out no one would be sheltering here from the weather unless a service was on.

Mandy hurried along to Gann’s pew, it was one of the few that were left now. The back five rows had already been pulled out and replaced with chairs. Soon all the pews would be taken out and the choir stools too. The winds of change had blown in though St Georges old heavy oak doors, now in order to keep such history as a “Waterloo” church they had to gut it out and kit it up. Like the fire 1922 he will lose some of his history but be rebuilt for peoples use, and like the architect Sir Gilbert Scott they will rededicate stone by stone St George to His purpose.

Mother moved aside for Mandy without out words it was clear that she was expected, granny was waiting for her. “Sorry, I got delayed at Birmingham again” Mandy whispered discreetly.

Granny slowly lent over to Mandy’s ear “Lots of things change in years that pass, yet something’s cannot be changed only added to. St George’s is our family, our home we can return to. There can be no warmer welcome than the prodigal child’s return”

Week 3 Creative Writing with WEA

Q In 400 words or less write from the title “when i was twenty”

When I was twenty

Twenty at last I’m no longer a teen. Today I have gone out on my own, out into London’s busy streets. Like a bird I glide on the wind, my mind going on its flowing and I’m glancing at faces I do not know. I purposely did not make plans for this day; I wanted to see what being twenty would do with me, but I have walked all morning without reason and my function irrational leaves my brain numb. I see two young men sat in a small garden square on blue bench they seen happy to be there so I ask if I might join them.  It isn’t long before we commence a conversation about how we came to be sat on the blue bench together.

Tom (not his real name I could tell by the way he struggled to say it,) left home when he was 16 years old. He’s now 20 and is still technically homeless, relying on a hostel in London to keep him safe at night. Tom managed to survive the long cold nights and days on end without food, but he wouldn’t advise anybody else to do what he has done. He pulls his coat collar up but it’s no colder now than when we had sat, the same chill seems to nag at my fingertips also.

Liam, who is twenty and from Sunderland became homeless when things became too tough to carry on living at home, He spoke about how finding a bed for the night and food to eat became a daily struggle. Liam says being homeless was a shock. He talks about finding shelter from the cold and rain, about sometimes surviving without food for three or four days. Things are now looking brighter for Liam because he’s getting help to look for a job and somewhere to live thanks to a local hostel.

Small tiny drops of rain now fall from the sky and I say my goodbyes, Lonely and colder than ever before I don’t drift anymore homeward bound and thankful for it.

Week 3 Creative Writing with WEA

Q Create a list poem with the theme of snow

Snow wars

The war of white began late at night

Silently gathering, in numbers amassing, beauties unwelcoming,

Bright dawn, arctic austere, icy spawn, tingle of fear

Hostile terrain, make ready, foreign bane, tread unsteady

Huddled in corners, provisions acquire, summers mourners, maximum attire

Bravely embark, warmth weaponized, at the park, a sled devised

Wet gloves, cold nose, childish shoves, snowball throws

Getting darker, getting colder, street starker, day older

Extraterrestrials now flee the field of battle left slippy.

“Snow wars” by Sarah Falcon 2013