As you know, I've started an MA in Creative Writing. Each week we have writing challenges based on certain styles or techniques. I thought I might share these pieces with you in my blog for two reasons.
First, because I am a writer after all! And it gives you a chance to get a feel of my work.
Second, to prompt you, if you are someone who wants to write or already does, to write your own under 500 piece. You can even share yours below in the comments if you wish!
This week our challenge was to write a scene that follows characters on a journey. Here's mine:
Eyvan’s hand gripped mine, pulling me with him. Faster he sped, quick as a wild beast chasing prey. Colours flashed by. The grey of the cottages, the pastels of painted store fronts. We raced through morning traffic, slamming in between the dawdling morning pedestrians. Skimmed past the bakery which sold those lemon meringue cupcakes I love. I’ll miss that sweet, tart blend of gooey deliciousness smothering my lips and chin.
Someone cursed us. Eyvan cursed back in our foreign tongue. A scream rang out in our wake, and I stole a glance back at a plump woman crashing to the ground, her shopping scattering, rolling. Her summer dress betraying her modesty as she splayed across the pavement, a splash of colour against the grey stone. I’ll miss these colourful humans.
Eyvan tugged me onwards, growling at me to keep up. A shrill, prolonged beep drilled into my ears as we pounded across the road, dodging cars. Eyvan gave a rude gesture the humans wouldn’t understand. Humans used two fingers, sometimes one. I found it so peculiar. What do they represent? Eyvan connected the tips of his middle and thumb to make a circle. It meant okay in the human realm. It does not in the Fae realm.
I stumbled at the curb, caught my foot on the edge, and tumbled to the ground. Eyvan continued until he realised our hands were no longer connected. Angry, smarting scratches painted my palms and knees. Pain shuddered up my limbs.
“Come on!” Eyvan’s voice is commanding and irritated.
I dragged myself to my feet and followed, limping and wincing at the pain pulsing up my left leg. Is my ankle twisted? I don’t have time to consider.
Just keep going. Just keep going.
Houses gave way to forestry. The entrance stood ahead—a sandstone wall that once belonged to a castle with an arched doorway without a door. Covered in vines that bloomed extraordinary, rare flowers, tourists flocked here every spring to see. Little did they know the blooms snuck out Elfhame and never returned.
Eyvan reached the opening and leaned on the wall, folding his arms against his bulging chest. His head darted between me and the arch, flicking his auburn hair into his eyes. I staggered toward him, irritation bubbling in me.
“You could help,” I yelled, teeth gritting with every painful step.
He clicked his tongue. “It’s your fault we’re here so I’ll gladly watch you suffer.”
A curse rolled off my tongue.
He smirked and reached a hand through the archway. From hand to elbow, it disappeared.
“It’s closing,” he called.
I pushed on, but the pain lanced through me. “Stop being so stubborn and help me.”
He took one step away from the archway and stopped. “You haven’t even apologised.”
His eyes narrowed. “For dragging me here.”
“I didn’t drag you here.”
“Could I let you come here alone?”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
He grunted. “Your father would disagree.”
“My father is dead.”
“Good point,” he said, shifting his attention to the arch. “Best of luck.”
He stepped through the archway.
Pain splintering through my leg as my final steps got me to the arch. I dived through and landed on grass wet with morning dew. I flipped over, staring up at the cracks lining the inside of the arch. At the invading Fae flowers that shouldn’t be there.
I screamed, and the noise echoed through the forest, scattering birds. Tears formed and trailed from the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away, but they kept falling until they overpowered me.