Writing Challenge - Day 13
To all who are reading this,
Day thirteen on the ELEMENTAL challenge. This is a relatively early post - nearly twelve hours in sync with the last. Strange... And also convenient, as I have plans for the day.
And don't forget, if you have any questions about my works or anything of the sort, please don't hesitate to get in touch! You can always post a comment below!
So... here's the thirteenth story.
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
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ELEMENTAL WRITING CHALLENGE
DAY 13. - SAND
HARMLESS PRANK HAUNTS TOWNSPEOPLE The headline is screaming at me from across the café and I sink lower in my seat, as I wait for my sandwich to arrive. The waitress has no consideration for those busy people on their lunch breaks, and is more interested in talking to the older gentleman with the lewd gaze. He gives her tips for being, "such a nice young thing". I tear my gaze from the newspaper in the woman's hands. I know the article off by heart. And I should. I wrote it, after all. Five years ago, a group of teenagers had filled tatty old clothes with sand, and buried them on the beach. Each item was in a different position, with a piece of cloth left unearthed. Like a burial gone wrong almost. It was macabre really. That kids would mimic something like it. The worst thing was, when an early morning jogger had gone past, they had reported it. Police and journalists had gathered and found it a hoax. A cruel trick from bored teenagers, who should have been at home, revising for their exams. They never found the kids responsible. Now it had happened again. And it was exactly the same scene as before. Right down to the last detail. White ankle socks - toes upright. Blue jeans - knee bent. Long sleeved red t-shirt - arm crooked. I sigh as the waitress finally brings me the sandwich. As I stare at it, I contemplate whether to ditch it and grab a tray of chips instead. It looks limp, lifeless, like the cloth bodies I had studied, with a photographer at my side. The white of the bread, the red of the tomatoes - even the blue of my energy drink I'd bought just to get change. It's all connected. I check my phone and realise the time. I wolf down the sandwich and drain the bottle. I crumple the napkin and take up my handbag, checking for my notepads and pens. I'm due to report a local school event (some charity fundraising thing) but as I leave the café, I stop. The wind whistles past, kicking up more sand and grit. Like it did five years ago with Angela and Alan by my sides. Like it did three nights ago, as I stood alone, admiring my handiwork.
THE END© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2013) Currently reading: Omens by Kelley Armstrong
Day thirteen on the ELEMENTAL challenge. This is a relatively early post - nearly twelve hours in sync with the last. Strange... And also convenient, as I have plans for the day.
And don't forget, if you have any questions about my works or anything of the sort, please don't hesitate to get in touch! You can always post a comment below!
So... here's the thirteenth story.
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
ELEMENTAL WRITING CHALLENGE
DAY 13. - SAND
HARMLESS PRANK HAUNTS TOWNSPEOPLE The headline is screaming at me from across the café and I sink lower in my seat, as I wait for my sandwich to arrive. The waitress has no consideration for those busy people on their lunch breaks, and is more interested in talking to the older gentleman with the lewd gaze. He gives her tips for being, "such a nice young thing". I tear my gaze from the newspaper in the woman's hands. I know the article off by heart. And I should. I wrote it, after all. Five years ago, a group of teenagers had filled tatty old clothes with sand, and buried them on the beach. Each item was in a different position, with a piece of cloth left unearthed. Like a burial gone wrong almost. It was macabre really. That kids would mimic something like it. The worst thing was, when an early morning jogger had gone past, they had reported it. Police and journalists had gathered and found it a hoax. A cruel trick from bored teenagers, who should have been at home, revising for their exams. They never found the kids responsible. Now it had happened again. And it was exactly the same scene as before. Right down to the last detail. White ankle socks - toes upright. Blue jeans - knee bent. Long sleeved red t-shirt - arm crooked. I sigh as the waitress finally brings me the sandwich. As I stare at it, I contemplate whether to ditch it and grab a tray of chips instead. It looks limp, lifeless, like the cloth bodies I had studied, with a photographer at my side. The white of the bread, the red of the tomatoes - even the blue of my energy drink I'd bought just to get change. It's all connected. I check my phone and realise the time. I wolf down the sandwich and drain the bottle. I crumple the napkin and take up my handbag, checking for my notepads and pens. I'm due to report a local school event (some charity fundraising thing) but as I leave the café, I stop. The wind whistles past, kicking up more sand and grit. Like it did five years ago with Angela and Alan by my sides. Like it did three nights ago, as I stood alone, admiring my handiwork.
THE END© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2013) Currently reading: Omens by Kelley Armstrong
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