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News: If I could, I'd tie my hair up in dreds and live the life of adventure from the high seas to the mountain peaks, gathering gold and jewels and tales of mystery and action :) but for now, I'll just have to do with writing about these things as if they were truly real.

--12 December 2017 --

Quote: Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest of hearts. --Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

The Fellowship

April 7, 2010

Writing Exercise #1

Write a story from the point of view of an inanimate object (e.g. the rug). Be as detailed as possible.

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I watched Jenny cross the room towards me. I gave out a shrill, musical cry. She stopped, muttered, and shook her head and walked up next to me. I cried again and she scooped me up.

"Hello?"
"Hi Jenny...do you want to go to the beach later on? It'll be fun!"
"Sure. What time?"
"Oh...how about 2pm?"
"Perfect! See you then!"
"Yep! Bye!"

Jenny's skin was soft and smooth...and well tanned. She could use a breath mint or two, but other than that she was such a lovely 80 year old gal. I watched as she walked away towards the chesterfield. I wish that I could cry again for her to come and pick me up and hold me next to her face. She smelled of stew and suntan lotion; I always felt comfortable when I was next to her.

Unfortunately, she had found a better place to keep me. When she was younger, I used to ride on her belt buckle and chirp happily every 30 minutes. But now, I was blessed if she wrapped me in her hand once a day. If only we hadn't grown old together...if only we could have stayed young.

I listened intently as Jenny hummed and sat down to take up her knitting again. It was a pity that the chesterfield faced the window and not the kitchen. I couldn't even convince her to move me to her favourite seat...if only I had legs.

My Uncle Rodger once told me that I was purely a social bird and that when my old gal got old, she'd tire of me. I couldn't believe him then, I scoffed at him and chirped all the louder. But now, now I see what he meant.

When my Jenny passes on from the social life, so will I.


Squeaks.

Comment: It's not that detailed or grandiose, but it's a starter to get you folks thinking. Remember, you don't have to share your piece on here...these writing exercises are for your benefit to get your imagination rolling :)

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