Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
5 minutes non-stop
I have no idea how I’m going to do this. Its just not how I work. I’m a control freak. Nothiing is spontaneous. Everything has to be planned. Carefully scripted. Thought through. This is just a random walk through my mind. How alarming.
So, what is in here?
I’m totally over being late this morning because Nic didn’t get Delilah dressed in time and then we couldn’t find her pink boots. Or am I? I guess the fact that I’ve even mentioned it means I’m not. I should be though, right? It didn’t matter. I took a short walk across the park and got here just before they opened up. It all worked out fine.
But Nic knew I was annoyed. And she will have stewed, while she wondered around Luna Park with a bunch of three year olds and their parents – none of whom we know. She will probably be miserable, not that she’ll admit it if I ask her later. Let’s be honest, when I ask her later. Because I’m feeling bad about it.
I always feel bad about it but I keep doing this stuff. Why?
—
10 minutes
Tuesday. Without a doubt the worst day of the week. All the positivity and good intentions born of a weekend of eating, sleeping and playing are long gone by Tuesday morning. Monday saw them off. And yet the working week has barely begun. There are still four shit filled days of getting up earlier than you want to, driving in rush hour traffic for way longer than you want to and sitting stupefied at your desk for hours more than you want to left. Four days before you get to eat, sleep and play again. Well, not really but that is how it feels.
So, of course, inevitably she calls on Tuesday morning…
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6 part prompt
Once upon a time there lived a little girl who loved to wear red. Her name was Cath. She was bold, she was sassy and she was always right.
One day Cath went out to visit her friend, Keely. Cath and Keely had been friends for a long time but despite this they were very different. Keely was timid, she was quiet and she thought she was always wrong.
On this particular day Cath and Keely decided to go to the park to feed the ducks. It was a fine day and the walk from Keely’s house to the park was long enough to allow both girls to feel the warmth of the sun on their backs.
In fact, every day has been sunny and fine recently. It was as though the world had forgotten about cold and wet and windy. No one seemed to have noticed, or if they had no one had seemed to mind. And certainly not Cath and Keely as they made their way to the park.
“Did you remember the bread” Keely asked, anticipating that Cath, in her enthusiasm, may have forgotten the bag of crumbs they had prepared.
“One day” said Cath “you’ll learn to trust me. Yes, or course I have the bread.” And to prove her point, she pulled the bag out of the pocket of her red dress.
“I’m sorry Cath.” Keely mumbled “I do trust you, mostly. But sometimes you do forget things. And I don’t want to disappoint the ducks.”
“Disappoint the ducks! How could we? If we forgot the bread they would just have to compromise. We could feed them grass or leaves or something.”
“I don’t think ducks eat grass” said Keely.
Because of that Cath fell silent. I hate it when she tells me I’m wrong, thought Cath. I’m never wrong. And because of that Cath pounced.
“Ducks do eat grass and leaves and cheese and sweets and cake and tizzer and …
… Cath went on and on and on until finally Keely couldn’t take it any more.
“Look Cath” she said pointing up to the top of the hill where the bandstand stood.
“What” said Cath annoyed that her monologue had been interrupted.
And there coming over the hill was the most enormous 10 wheeled, duck killing, monster truck that Cath (or Keely) had ever seen.
“Shit!” they both said together and ran as fast as they could towards the duck pond.
—
10 minutes
Julie’s Progress
It was strange, thought Julie as she exited the park and turned left up the hill towards home, how behaviour that would have had you committed twenty five years ago was now so unremarkable.
The man talking animatedly to himself, while his dog sniffed about unwatched nearby, was oblivious to everything going on around him, including Julie’s brief glance his way.
Only the tell-tale white wires running from his ears down into his jacket confirmed he was talking to someone on his phone, not ranting at some unseen demon.
That’s progress I guess, she thought. Being connected, contactable, available 24/7. Despite how it makes you look or indeed makes you feel. Its what everyone does now. Its what everyone expects.
Not that meeting other people’s expectations was particularly high on Julie’s list of priorities. Not now anyway.