"I plead with you that should you continue in this path of utmost destruction, you shall be kind enough to leave my daughter out of it."
"But, ma'am, I mean no harm--",
"Enough. You may think it to be splendidly romantic, but I find it a terrible nuisance. I will not tolerate you gallivanting around like a show horse with your wild attempts to steal Diana's affections. You had best be on your way, young man."
"Yes. I'll do as you so bid me. But, I daresay I shall be returning just beyond your stead to abide in the tranquility of her presence - just out of grasp - for as long as my ever-yearning heart shall continue to beat."
And with that, he tipped his hat politely, turned on his heel, and strode off into the night. A tremble overtook Mrs. Carrigan as maternal instinct told her this was not a matter to be overlooked.
Showing posts with label free-writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label free-writing. Show all posts
Thursday, April 26, 2012
From Writing Class: 10 Minute Free-Write - "The Mask He Must Wear"
(Note: This piece was inspired by the novel I am working on. It's not included as of now, but I might find a way to work the premise of some of this into my work.)
The new king was afraid, shaken by the horrible death of his father, and the sudden disappearance of his mother. Everything he did was second-guessed. Each move was made with an air of uncertainty, despite his noble upbringing.
He sits alone each night upon his throne, feeling misplaced. A surreal feeling overwhelms him, as though he were suspended above himself, disconnected from body. A lost spirit looking on at a life he hadn't foreseen.
Whiskers sprouted up, and his eyes were bloodshot. He paces the courtyards and shivers in his sleep. He awakens in the deep twilight to retrieve his purple robes, admiring the way the velvet ripples through his calloused hands. He sizes himself up in the mirror, almost as though he dares the reflection to take him on.
With an austere look on his face, he straightens himself, putting the mightiest oaks of the kingdom to shame. Nobody knows how alone he is. He must be brave, for he is the king.
The new king was afraid, shaken by the horrible death of his father, and the sudden disappearance of his mother. Everything he did was second-guessed. Each move was made with an air of uncertainty, despite his noble upbringing.
He sits alone each night upon his throne, feeling misplaced. A surreal feeling overwhelms him, as though he were suspended above himself, disconnected from body. A lost spirit looking on at a life he hadn't foreseen.
Whiskers sprouted up, and his eyes were bloodshot. He paces the courtyards and shivers in his sleep. He awakens in the deep twilight to retrieve his purple robes, admiring the way the velvet ripples through his calloused hands. He sizes himself up in the mirror, almost as though he dares the reflection to take him on.
With an austere look on his face, he straightens himself, putting the mightiest oaks of the kingdom to shame. Nobody knows how alone he is. He must be brave, for he is the king.
From Writing Class: 10 minutes free-write - "The Docks"
Massive outlines stood back-lit over the gleaming water, almost as though frozen to the core in the icy chill of Lake Superior. The interchange of long metal beams appeared black and solemn in the night air.
I wondered what these fantastic structures could be. I imagined the great tasks they must have been built for. My mind reeled with thoughts, but all of them popped out before they came to fruition, just as a light bulb suddenly pops and dies out; lots of light, a sudden flicker, a startle, and it's gone.
I've since learned that what I silently witnessed in awe that night - staring with eyes glistening from the moonlight, amplified by the deep waters. They were iron ore docks, an essential structure for Minnesota, since our state is depended upon greatly for the metal.
(Note: I couldn't think of much to write that night so I picked something from our then-recent trip to Duluth. Not the most exciting piece. Sorry for the abrupt ending.)
I wondered what these fantastic structures could be. I imagined the great tasks they must have been built for. My mind reeled with thoughts, but all of them popped out before they came to fruition, just as a light bulb suddenly pops and dies out; lots of light, a sudden flicker, a startle, and it's gone.
I've since learned that what I silently witnessed in awe that night - staring with eyes glistening from the moonlight, amplified by the deep waters. They were iron ore docks, an essential structure for Minnesota, since our state is depended upon greatly for the metal.
(Note: I couldn't think of much to write that night so I picked something from our then-recent trip to Duluth. Not the most exciting piece. Sorry for the abrupt ending.)
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