Assignment 14

There is only about a week left before Christmas and I’ve decided to throw caution and laziness to the wind with a new assignment. You’ve had two weeks off from my heavy-handed dealings and now it’s time to get back into the writing mode. Realize that you should be done with baking and shopping, and you should be ready to take some fun time for yourself.

For assignment 14 I want you to look at a photograph in your house or in the various houses in which you’ll be carousing this holiday. Then write a paragraph about the photo. You can incorporate it into a larger story. You can just describe the piece. Or you can write a poem.

My gift to you this holiday season is an easy assignment. How’s that?

As always, put your response in the comments. Mine will be there shortly…I already know which photo I want to use.

Keep writing…

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3 Responses to Assignment 14

  1. jeff says:

    The ducks stared back at him from the broken frame. Shuffling across the bathroom floor in his slippers, Warren carried the photo to the trash and dumped it with a crash. Then he turned on the water and tried to wash the blood from his callused hands.

  2. Clownface says:

    Warren stopped and stared as the golf cart sped past his picture window. God, he really hated Arthur, zipping around the neighborhood in his new black golf cart. How many people can he get on that thing? There must be 15 people hanging off the cart. “Goddamn clown car, that’s what that is,” he muttered aloud, thinking morosely to his own lonely white cart. it was sitting in the two-car garage, parked next to the trash barrels where the evidence of his frustrating morning had been hastily dumped. His wife’s Buick sat in the other parking space, her sunglasses discarded on the passenger seat. He touched the hood. The cool feel of the metal against his calloused hands caused him to start, realizing what he had done earlier in the day.

  3. Clownface says:

    Take two – I edited for an inconsistency in location – my protagonist needed to walk from the picture window to the garage. -CF-

    *****

    Warren stopped and stared as the golf cart sped past his picture window. God, he really hated Arthur, zipping around the neighborhood in his new black golf cart. How many people can he get on that thing? There must be 15 people hanging off the cart. “Goddamn clown car, that’s what that is,” he muttered aloud, thinking morosely to his own lonely white cart. it was sitting in the two-car garage, parked next to the trash barrels where the evidence of his frustrating morning had been hastily dumped. His thought of his wife’s Buick, parked next to his cart. He imagined her oversized Gucci sunglasses sitting on the passenger seat, and discarded gum wrappers absent-mindedly littering the floor.

    Warren walked into the garage through the laundry room and looked down dumbly at the gray tank she drove around the island. “It makes me feel safe,” she would say when he complained about the working class image the car projected. They had moved to the country club community in the Keys when Warren sold his masonry business three years earlier. He walked down the half flight of stairs to the front of the car. He caressed the hood with his calloused hands. The cool feel of the metal caused him to start, realizing what he had done earlier in the day.

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