Monday, 6 August 2012

Creative writing exercises

So, a little while ago I moved to the U.K. I've joined a creative writing group at the library and I'll be using this blog to put them up on here as well, because I don't want to spread myself too thin! I hadn't written anything in absolutely ages, probably since I was about 19, so I'd love to hear what you think of it. The first exercise was to describe your ideal house, the location it would be in etc. I haven't given it a title, but here goes:

"Shit, shit shit!", she cries out. "What the hell was that?" Her feet scramble in the wet dirt, her hands manage to grasp on to a strong branch. Looking around, she can't see a sign of the possibly imaginary beast. What she can see is the tree root that floored her. As she somewhat manages to regain her composure, another blood-curdling wail is let out, somewhere, it seems to echo all around her. Fright jolts up her spine and her legs start with a burst of speed. "Why did I have to move here so badly?", cursing herself for falling in love with the forest when she only still knew it to be fictional.

Ever since she found out that the scene where Robin Hood and his Merry Men had their adventures actually existed she had her heart set on living there. Now here she was, running through her beloved woods while the trees pawed at her hair and the earth slowed her down. Blood thumps in her ears like tribal drumming. Her feet pounding on the ground when all of a sudden things go quiet. She looks up, her face still red and hot, and sees the sun shine through the lustrous canopy, filling the clearing with a soft, green light. Dandelion seeds float through the air, glittering like fairies when they catch the rays. Slowly her ears start to pick up on the soft rustling of the leaves above her and then she notices the intertwined songs, a symphony of bird calls. She kicks off her shoes and lets the fresh grass tickle her toes as she walks towards a little wood cabin.

The chimney is smoking, he must be cooking. As she comes closer to the door her nose fills with the sweet, rich scents of garden herbs. Rosemary, sage, thyme, all planted with her own hands. The shiny red tomatoes look to glow, off-set against all the green. She reaches down, picks off a mint leaf and rubs it, crushing it between her index finger and thumb. She smells it, inhaling deeply, and feels her heart calming down.

Suddenly the door flings open. "Hi, Karloff!", she says when the purring little furball winds itself around her legs. She walks through the door into the cosy, candlelit living room. She throws her muddy coat over one of the chairs at the dining table. All the furniture looks, and most of it is, handmade. The wood knotted and uneven, adding to the eclectic charm of the place. The walls are covered in vintage movie posters and shelves full of memorabilia and brick-a-brack. Looking at all the silly things filling the space, she relaxes, knowing she is now safe at home. Two arms enfold her and a kiss is planted on her cheek. "You look a right mess", he says. "What happened?" She explains to her husband what had her running through the woods. He bursts out laughing. "Oh dear, you silly goose." Ready to defend herself, she crosses her arms and huffs. "Don't you remember they're filming an episode of Dr. Who in the woods?" Of course she did. Relieved that her home is not haunted by some horrible creature, she lets out a sigh and sits down at the kitchen table laughing at her little adventure and ready to tuck into the steaming hot steak-and-ale pie in front of her.

image courtesy of the BBC