Night Shift
Weekly Writing Prompt No. 76
Hello, all you lovely people, writers and readers alike.
I have some news (yes, more news). In late September, I return to full-time education. I am studying for an MA in Cultural Astronomy and Astrology here in the UK and it means I may need to change how and why I use Substack.
The weekly writing prompts will continue but will have some bits removed or reduced. So, if you are a fan of the ‘Missing in Action’ word of the week, the ‘Weekly Soulshin'e’ and the ‘Weekly Writing Competition’ can you let me know, otherwise they will almost certainly disappear.
For those new to The Writing Shed, the weekly writing prompt is the core of my activity here on Substack. Paid members can also find an archive of courses I’ve created and access all past writing prompts, flash fiction, writing hints and tips, articles and essays in The Index.
I’ve moved the prompt to the beginning so you can have a go before reading my interpretation. So have fun, and enjoy your reading and writing and if you find my newsletters helpful why not …
The Prompt
It’s a Word Square, hurrah I hear some of you say, at least that’s what happens in my head! For those who have never seen one, the aim is to use at least one word from each column in a piece of prose or poetry of your own making. If you are up for the challenge you could also use ALL the words …. go on, I dare you …!
For anyone with sight problems, the words are:
Column 1 - Apple, Dahlia, Banana, Bloom
Column 2 - Corridor, Stairs, Bedroom, Kitchen
Column 3 - Garden, Lane, Road, Alley
Column 4 - Remember, Reflect, Sigh, Thought
If you feel like sharing your work please add it as a comment. I’m always curious to read what everyone creates and while it’s great to see a bunch of emails flood in, it helps you too when you show your talents off in the comments.
Tom gently pulled the bedroom door behind him, not wishing to wake anyone at such an early hour.
He prided himself on his consideration for others, constantly checking and re-checking that he was not causing a problem or offence to anyone within his vicinity. He was the type who would dry himself in the shower or bath before stepping onto the bath mat so the next person would have a dry mat to themselves.
As he moved slowly along the corridor to the stairs he mused about the complexities of life. His profession, he reflected, required levels of awareness and consideration that were rare in this day and age.
Reaching the first step Tom was just about to start walking down when he heard a sigh drift through the gap between the door and frame of the bedroom next to him. Instantly, he was still. He didn’t want to wake anyone, they all needed a good night’s sleep, he knew it would be a tiring day for everyone tomorrow.
He had never needed anyone to see him off, he got used to working alone late into the night and early in the morning long ago. He knew Becky was always grateful for the consideration he showed when he silently climbed into bed on his return each day.
He stopped and waited patiently to see if anything else needed his attention. The sigh wasn’t repeated and he assumed, that sleep had taken over again.
Even more carefully he made his way silently down the stairs keeping a sharp ear out for the sounds emanating from the slumbering house at night.
On reaching the hallway Tom turned back on himself towards the kitchen; once inside he closed the door and sat for a moment before putting on the shoes he had left there when he got in.
He plucked an apple and banana from the bowl next to him, a juicy treat for his journey; his wife always complained he never ate his ‘five a day’ and this time he would have an apple core and banana skin to show her.
Standing up in a single fluid movement that would have shown his body’s physical form to anyone watching who cared to be impressed, he headed for the kitchen door.
Passing the dresser in the corner he remembered that a birthday present was needed for his son and Becky had been insistent that, for once, he make an effort to get it on time. Pulling out a purse from the handbag, he removed a hundred pounds in tenners and stuffed them in his pocket feeling pleased he had remembered without having to be reminded.
Unlocking the door quietly he walked through and pulled it gently onto the latch behind him. It was safely locked again and he popped the key underneath the flowerpot full of dwarf dahlias on the right. He popped a blowsy bloom off its stem and tucked it in his lapel; he always liked to look smart, whatever the job.
Looking at his watch he realised he was late and picked up his pace along the side alley of the house to the back gate, along the lane towards the road where his car was parked. Tom opened the door and sat quietly for a moment gathering his thoughts before biting into the apple.
Its flavour was sweet he reflected, a little like the murder he had just committed.
Reflect
I include a reflection opportunity with every writing prompt because our writing always wells up from our inner landscape.
Have you ever tried using a Word Square to create a piece of memoir or autobiographical writing? If not, why not give it a go? For example, do you remember someone growing dahlias, picking apples or a cosy kitchen? The possibilities are endless if you choose just ONE word to begin.
Are you a writer who wants to manifest your writing hopes and dreams from the practical and pragmatic to the esoteric and spiritual? If so, why not work with me? You can find out more on my website by clicking the button below.
Missing in Action
This new section of the weekly newsletter is dedicated to all the words removed from dictionaries and language over the years. Words that define and describe our world, but which are deemed no longer necessary.
This edition is dedicated to the word Dandelion1.
The Weekly Soulshine
Something to ponder …
The Weekly Writing Competition
This week I’d like to share The Glenna Luschei Prize for African Poetry which is open for submissions until the 1st of October. For clarity, an “African writer” is taken to mean someone who was born in Africa, who is a national or resident of an African country, or whose parents are African. If you are eligible, you can find out more on the website here: https://africanpoetrybf.unl.edu/contest-prizes/glenna-lucieu-prize-winners/
Join Me
Almost fully booked, there are only a couple of spaces still available.
17th - 20th October - Join Me for a Life Writing Retreat at Othona West Dorset
With love, light, and laughter
Linda
x
(Image by Carlos Felix from Pixabay)
https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/oxford-junior-dictionary-words/
Here's a little bit of doggerel using the word square. Hope you enjoy!
He offered me a banana,
This artist with golden hair.
He said, “Now, take your clothes off.
The bedroom’s just through there.”
I said, “Oh no, it’s not like that.”
He said he didn’t care
And I should plonk my bum down
Upon the kitchen stair.
I’d come to steal an apple
From the garden down the lane.
It made me sigh and to reflect,
For I knew the grower’s fame.
In the corridor I thought him rude
But all remember his best nude.
When people tread the road and alley
To make their way into this valley
They admire the picture in the room:
It’s me with a dahlia in bloom!
How much do you remember? How much do I?
Or do I make it up in memory the way I wish
that it had been.
Apples, sliced, for pies, served hot from the oven,
with raspberry ripple ice cream.
Bananas, sliced for breakfast sandwiches,
the only way I eat them now.
Corridors, school timetables, prefects
and no running on the stairs, the common room
where we donated chairs and dartboards.
The way ABC went wayward in our teens,
when I thought I was in love, led up that old
garden path, but somehow escaped the bedroom
escapade, left in blind alleys, weeping.
I sighed. Retreated to the kitchen,
placed cut dahlia blooms in vases wondering
that someone cared enough to send them
as a Valentine.
Elegance, positivity and growth – a message
that says I might love you one day, but not
right now, not as you are.
I’d rather have had a single rose, a sunflower.
How much do you remember?
I walk sometimes down that lane, to the gate.
I watch the trees reflected in the pool,
and wonder where your road took you.