COLLABORATIVE WRITING
At the age of thirteen, Scott was an energetic and gifted sportsman. He was the teenager that everyone loved, and everyone was envious of his outstanding performances on the football pitch. They said he could have been playing in the premiership at the age of 17.
Until that day, the day that Scott’s future was taken away from him, nothing could have prepared Scott for what was going to happen.
Stop, look and listen, but Scott didn’t.
COLLABORATIVE WRITING
Memory is a treacherous thing. Our memories make us who we are. Does it mean that people with amnesia or Alzheimer’s become less of a person?
Sometimes, I wish I could just stop thinking, and forget. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t me, that I could be someone else, in some other time, and live a different life. I’m going to make it happen, one day soon. I won’t remember this life any more.
COLLABORATIVE WRITING
Chester was at the bar, making his last orders. Julian sat alone with me. He was picking his nails and looking at the beer stained table. “Have you ever told him?”
My chest was gripped with fear. “Told him? Told him what?” Even though I knew damn well what he was talking about.
“What happened that night, at that party.”
”No.”
“Why?”
I thought long and hard. “I haven’t told him because he doesn’t need to know. It was a thing that happened. It shouldn’t have happened and the next morning, it may as well not have happened. I don’t see the point in mentioning it. It’s not like it happened again, is it?”
“I wish it had happened again. I still wish it would happen again.”
I didn’t know what to say; didn’t know how to react. “I’m sorry Julian but you need to forget about it. I have.”
Revised
Chester was at the bar. Julian sat with me, picking his nails, looking down. “Have you ever told him?”
Fear set in. “Told him what?” I knew damn well what he was talking about.
“What happened at that party.”
”No.”
“Why?”
I paused. “He doesn’t need to know. It shouldn’t have happened but it happened. There’s no point in mentioning it. It’s not like it happened again?”
“I wish it had. I still wish it would happen again.”
I didn’t know what to say; didn’t know how to react. “I’m sorry Julian.”
Week 9 Assignment - BLOG WRITING: a week of blog entries as a creative writing exercise in itself, developing existing piece as longer assignment if preferred.
He was standing in line, waiting to be served. He hoped that the waitress wouldn’t notice he only had 20p, not the 65p required. All he wanted was a cup of tea. He anxiously shuffled forwards as one more person was served, each having enough money, most had the correct change. He was far too superior to ask anyone for money. He kept his eyes down as he got close and closer, the sound of coins falling into their place inside the till drawer became louder and louder. Sweat was forming profusely on his brow, taking a detour around his eye before falling to his cheek. His heartbeat became so pulsating he thought the people around him may feel the vibrations through their fresh cups of decaffeinated coffee. Finally it was his turn.
“A cup of tea please”
His hand trembled as he passed her the money. She dropped it in the till without a glance.
“YES” he shouted using all the air in his lungs. Everyone turned.
