Writing Fiction 3

The heavy black and blue winter sky groaned awfully with rain clouds that at any moment were really about to fall crashing heavily down upon the street where, because it was rush hour, so many people, wearing all manner of different clothes, hats, shoes, boots, some of them carrying bags, suitcases, briefcases, scampered and strolled about the place as though oblivious to what was just about to happen over their very heads. One of these people was called Hilary and concealed inside her voluminous coat she carried the loaded, snub-nosed gun, and she also seemed to be the only one looking upwards into the tempestuous thundery heavens.


Edited version:

The black sky groaned with rain clouds that at any moment were about to fall, because it was rush hour, many people strolled about the place completely oblivious as to what was about to happen.

One of these people was Hilary and concealed inside her voluminous coat was a loaded gun, and she seemed to be the only one looking up into the thundery heavens.

A tumbler of Sorrow

She drank
The whisky
In one gulp
A tumbler
Full of sorrow
At her husband's
Wake
Her right hand
Usually
Clasped
In his
Bereft.

Wings

I would love
To have wings
To soar
Through
Wispy clouds
Dive into
Cool waters
Be free.

Her stormy Emotions

Her stormy
Emotions
Violent
And sudden
Her eyes
Truly were
A window
Into her soul
One moment
Black
Before clearing
Into sky blue

His Dashing Smile

I was charmed
Instantly
By his dashing smile
The sparkle
In his grey eyes
So full of life
And laughter
He was my love
My only love.

Lock and Key

My Heart
Kept
Under
Lock and key
Only those
Who truly
Love me
Are
Entrusted
With
A key.

Update

Finally I am writing fiction again. I've really missed it and I came up with a great idea today which maybe I should develop further rather than turning it into a short story. It's very exciting.

Breaking Out

Somehow
I have
Closed
Myself off
From others
Afraid to risk
Closeness
To be
Completely
And
Authentically
Myself
Shyness
A barrier
To freedom
To express
Myself
How can
I break out?

Writing Fiction 2B

Emma said that she had cooked too much and that I should come round and help her eat it. I agreed, my cupboards were bare and I had already been considering ordering a takeaway. Emma and I lived next door and as I made my way to her front door my stomach gurgled at the meaty smells that surrounded the area.
"Come in," she said kissing me on both cheeks. "Now I'd better get back into the kitchen John is in the lounge, with our friend Greg," she winked and pushed me towards the open door. I raised my eyes, with an annoyed breath. Now that Emma and our other friend, who lived a couple of miles away in Hove had married, I was rarely invited anywhere with them without being set up. My patience was close to snapping as I had expressed on a few occasions, with care so as not to cause offence that I did not need setting up. Taking a moment to calm down I walked into the room and introduced myself to Greg.

Writing Fiction 2A

Emma said that I should definitely meet him. Him was the guy who had sent me a text a few days ago. I frowned at the thought and I felt my insides clench with nerves. You see I am useless at relationships. Relationships need openness and communication, and I have neither of these. My sister calls me a closed book and I hate arguments. I'm someone who will make peace however I can rather than face an argument or discussion.

Writing Fiction 2

She settles onto the sofa and starts her laptop, preparing to write. She has her notepad where she's written ideas that day and she begins to type, absorbed completely in the afternoon silence. A space where she is alone to think about what she's doing, take a sip of tea and a bite of food from time to time.

She sits in the cafe, it's a busy lunchtime so she has to share her table with someone else and squeezed in she types, trying to ignore the chatter around her. Unable to focus she people watches instead, and heads home at the end of the day, with no progress.

Writing Fiction 1C

He followed her, not too close, he thought to himself nervously. This mission was so important. His first assignment since his training and employment with MI6. If he failed, his career as a spy would be over. He would do anything to avoid that after all his hard work. He had been working towards this for most of his adult life after realising quickly that he wasn't suited to a nine to five, steady job. The woman he was following stopped at the coach stop, clutching her ticket in her hand. This matched the details he had been supplied with. These were now burnt. Part of his training had been in memory. He found a seat and opened his newspaper, turning the page now and again but not really reading it. He glanced at his target from time to time, wondering what a woman like her could have done. He sighed quietly, regretting that train of thought. His job was to follow orders, not to wonder why. It was a cold, drizzly day so he was thankful for his winter jacket, red scarf and hat. He studied the target again. He thought she was about thirty, with an attractive face, and long brunette hair. She was tall and despite the fact she wore skinny jeans, she looked elegant. Looking up he caught her glance and she smiled. It completely lit up her face. He smiled a quick smile in return that didn't quite reach his eyes and let his gaze move away. His heart finally slowed when he glanced back at her. She was looking towards the road. He resolved not let this happen again. Just then the coach arrived. He carefully folded his paper and stood in line. He bought a ticket in his turn and found a seat two rows behind his target on the other side, where he could see her clearly. Relaxing slightly he breathed out, he now had two hours until the coach would arrive and he would complete his part in this mission.

Writing Fiction 1A

I sat on a bench near to the beach while I was waiting to view a property and he sat next to me. His azure eyes sparkled like the sea when he smiled at me and asked me if he could take me for coffee. I agreed completely affected by his presence and he took my hand in his as we walked to the coffee shop. It felt strange but his hand felt good in mine.

Writing Fiction 1

Three fact One Fiction

When I was twenty one I appeared on television with my Mum and Granny for a makeover. We were asked onto the show because we had all graduated in the same year. It was terrifying! The show was set in Manchester so I was flown up there early that morning to meet Mum and Granny who had stayed over the night before. At the end of the day they gave us the clothes that they had styled us in and a huge hamper of beauty products.

Complications

Life is so complicated
Men sometimes
Take me out
Then change their mind
So quickly
Hurtfully
Should I protect myself
Or stay
Open to love?

Cycling

Gritting my teeth
I pedal slowly
Up the steepest hills
In Brighton
Face red
Through exertion.

Superpower

As the night
Drew in
She lifted
Into the sky
Spun in circles
Skin tingling
In the cool air
A grin
Of pleasure
On her face.

Truth or Dare

He asks me
Truth or dare
I wonder
Should I risk all
And reveal the truth
Or humiliation
In a dare?

Rain

Curled up
With hot tea
I watch the rain.

Chiseled Truth

His jaw chiseled
Truth, she wondered
If he ever spoke
Yet he exuded
A seductive charm
She was powerless
To resist him.

Shades of Love

She had never before
Experienced
Shades of love
Like this
Her heart
Ached
With the sheer
Depth of feeling.

Clumsy

I trip
And you
catch me
Every time
Maybe
It's time
For me
To catch you
For once?

Svelte

He placed
His hands
Around her
Svelte waist
She felt safe
In his arms
Leaning against him
She fluttered
Her eyelashes