Writelifting Sep. recap
Let’s recap what we wrote this month:
words to use: golden, maid, bag, fireplace, barbarian
first sentence: The idea that they could have flown,…
The idea that they could have flown away is just,… I’ve been looking for the incriminating documents for a few hours now. As the first maid of the family it is my duty to help out the family. But seeing how these documents would prove the barbarian rituals the young master, upholds, I find it to be more important to,… shed light upon them..
Looking over the room, I wonder where he could have left them. The desk was the first place I thought could be logic. However, between the golden pens and and crystal inkpots, I could not find anything of importance. I have looked in the closet, underneath his bed and in his bag. Looking at my watch, I realize it’s almost time for the family to come back from church. As I turn to leave the room, the fireplace spikes my interest.
“He couldn’t have,…” I shake my head, that would be just a bit too,… But then again, I can’t be too thorough. While walking I promise myself it’s the last thing I check.
Not long before I put my hand inside the mantle, I find a plastic bag taped to the side. As I pull it of, I hear the front door opening. My hands are black from the dust, but I run as fast as I can to the servants staircase and to my room. As fast as I can, I clean myself up and put the papers in an envelope, addressed to a local newspaper. I drop the envelope down the window and head out to the office of the master.
- The bride’s book
words to use: blue, fear, dolls, song, pretty
first sentence: No man can tell me what to do..
“No man can tell me what to do!”
My hands move over these words written in the book, that’s resting on my lap. My great grandmother started the tradition. Today, on the eve of my wedding day, it is my turn to read what was left by those who came before me. After that I am to leave my mark, by writing in it. Great granny however, was a strong woman and I still don’t know if I am doing the right thing by marrying this man, I’ve never met before.
Why would a sane 25 year old woman marry a man, she does not know? Sane might be the key word here.
Ever since my powers grew, fear made me unable to meet people. I can’t remember when my song became more important than me, but people quit seeing me as a person. They want me as a tool and soon after that I started avoiding others.
That is why my sister decided that on my 25th birthday, I would wedd a man. Honestly, I feel like running away. She would only bring me back, that’s what her powers do. She can locate people.
Me? I can see people for who they really are. They look like dolls and monsters. However when I sing I see pasts and futures.
Nothing to be scared about you’d say, but I always see the best and the worst moments. And you can’t believe how many thieves and murderers there are in this world.
I wonder what my husband will look like. Can you imagine having to look at some horrible monster for the rest of your life? Let alone do other things,.. I cringe, thinking about it.
His name is Ryan. Ryan Bluewell. I turn around looking at the pretty, blue weddinggown, hanging on the rack behind me. It’s his family’s tradition that the bride wears a blue dress. Somehow, I have a funny feeling about this whole thing. I’ve been researching that family and they are descendants from the watertribe, I wonder if they still have powers, just like we do.
Murderer on paws
words to use: bike, animal, forced, whiskers, finger
first sentence: As the policeman pulled back the sheet, she knew immediately that
As the policeman pulled back the sheet, she knew immediately that it was the victim they had been searching for the past few days. Her face looked blue, the fingers on the left hand seemed to be chewed on. Maybe some some small animal. It happened after death, seeing the lack of blood. After a quick check of the body, it was clear that the cause of death was not a gunshot or knife wound. Detective Mouren would have to wait for the report from the coroner to give an answer to how the victim died.
She signed the officer that she was done and decided to walk the scene.
No matter how dirty the street, she could not really find much that looked like evidence. A bike that seemed abandoned, had a piece of cloth stuck onto it. On her notepad she wrote: Check if it’s the victim’s bike. After that she took a picture of it and recovered the cloth. A shoe without heel, could be of the victim, so she took another picture and bagged it. The walk had already taken almost an hour of her time, but she was still being focussed. Until something made her deviate the path. In the corner of her eye she found something shining from the shadows. with her flashlight at hand, she shoved some rubbish out of the way and found,… A piece of finger and a ring still on it. The camera took a picture, before she lifted the finger to store in an evidence bag. For a moment she looked at the ring. It was strange looking. Detective Mouren put it away before her attention shifted. Too late, … she was shoved really hard into the wall. The pain rushed in and she was trying to grasp for a breath. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes, where whiskers. “A cat?” She mumbled and then fainted.
- Lusting for love!
words to use: alienate, exile, heartless, sticky, central
first sentence:I’m sorry I’ve got your pants.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got your pants.” My voice still sounds husky and I’m feeling rather uncomfortable. I had never done a thing like this before. And now I feel a ashamed. I shouldn’t, I’m old enough and not in a relationship, but,… I look up when I don’t get a direct reaction.
His look and that smile, make me feel warm again. That was the reason I came with him in the first place.
“Thanks, love.” He sounds as hot as I felt just half an hour ago.
I hand over the pants and his wallet falls out. It hits the bed and falls open.
In plain sight there is a Central Police Badge. It takes me back, I feel a whole different kind of uncomfortable. Central Police means trouble to an exile like me,…
He however acts like nothing is going on.
I keep getting dressed, feeling the need somehow, to run from this room.
Before I get a chance to wear my shirt, he pulls it out of my hands.
“You can’t wear it like that, it’s still sticky from the spilled drink.” I shake my head. “It’s not like I have anything else.”
He hands me his shirt and I hesitate long enough for him to pull it over my head and dress me like a child.
When done, he kisses me, softly. And at that moment I feel conflicted and heartless. It’s like with every sweet and caring gesture he is trying to alienate me from myself.
He looks at me, trying to gouge me.
“What’s wrong? Am I doing something wrong? I mean it was kind of sudden and,…” The blabbering isn’t able to hide his disappointment. I giggle by the sight. “No, it’s not that, I’m sorry I didn’t mean,…
Thanks for reading!