Wednesday, 22 May 2013

Creative Starters

I was struggling with imagination today, so turned to a creative writing starter website for inspiration. The words given were: Master piece, Bird, Pool, Brick, Girl and Bodyguard, and a 400-800 word limit.
I didn't think this was too bad a starter compared to some really ambiguous ones I've been given in the past. Naturally I turned to the thriller/crime genre.


Julien Blake cursed the heat as he peeled off his shirt, glad to be home from the tiring day in the office where he pushed his pen and ordered large glasses of chilled cocktails. He thanked the heavens he’d had his pool installed last summer, and pulled his trunks on. As he slid into the cool soothing water, a tiny song bird landed on the tiles at the side, and began a beautiful song. Angered at the upset of his solitude, Julien waded over and shooed the delicate creature away.

In another house, in the same broiling climate, Miles Clayback was channelling his anger into a plan for sweet revenge.
Everything had been accounted for, laid out before him on his flip-chart. Sufficiently imprinted on his mind, he ripped the page off and burned it to ash in his gas cooker flames. As he slammed the door behind him and started his car, a small song bird landed on his front lawn, seeking shade. Miles calmly went and filled the water dish that stood on the bird feeder. The tiny creature had done no wrong to anyone in its life. It only lived to make sweet music to lighten our faces. He resumed hunting.

Back in his garden, Julien was lying on a sunbed by the pool, water droplets steaming off his tanned skin. With shades on his eyes and a smear of sun cream on his nose he appeared quite the young entrepreneur, if only he were young. As he let his mind wonder at his day’s achievements, he fell into a dreamy slumber, at peace with the world that had given him his fortune.

Miles progressed down the street steadily, a normal citizen save for what went on inside his mind. Like a film clip stuck on loop, this morning’s events replayed in his mind, dulling his senses to the outside world. He mounted the curb in a reckless manner, knocking the low wall over and denting his car. “Never mind,” he thought. “He’ll never know.” He picked up one of the loose bricks turning it over in his hand, adjusting his masterpiece plan so finely crafted before his arrival. But with a little tweaking, he adapted to his surroundings and adopted the brick into his scheme. A more natural send off. He congratulated himself with his own resourcefulness.  He stepped up to the front door and picked the lock without hindrance, entered quietly.
Suddenly, a black clad bodyguard appeared in front of him, blocking his path to the open back door. Without thinking, he swung the brick up, hitting the side of the face hard, knocking the guard out cold. On closer inspection, lying crumpled on the polished floor, the body guard was not much more than a girl. Miles, momentarily stunned, tried to convince himself that sacrifices had to be made, and once again the anger from that man’s annihilation of all his hopes and beliefs. So abrupt, so disrespectful and damaging, even mocking. Her lifeless body was stepped over as if it were an unwanted rag.

He was immediately blinded as he stepped out onto the paving in the vast white washed and lush green garden of Julien Blake, the man who had slighted and ridiculed him so effortlessly just hours ago. He paced over to the stretched out body at the far end of the pool, the brick slipping in his hand as his palms grew sweatier by the second.

Julien felt the scorch of the sun dimmed, as a shadow was cast over him. He raised his sun glasses to find a vaguely familiar wreck of a man standing over him, sweating like a pig and panting rather menacingly. There was no time to ask questions, or even to apologise, before the life of Julien Blake was long exterminated.
Acting on pure adrenaline, following his steps fixed in his head, Miles dragged the body off the sun bed and into the pool, throwing the brick into the deep end. He took one last look at the crimson blood swirling like smoke from the floating man, before running.

The police were useless. They also didn’t care. To them it was more paperwork. The long awaited suicide of another rich man, driven mad by his loneliness.

Word count: 711


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