Results from WAG #8 and instructions for #9

Writing Adventure Group: Results #8 / Instructions #9
by Nixy ~ April 22nd, 2009. . Filed under: Writing Adventure Group
Tags: writers group

WAG #8 Results and WAG #9 instructions below. All are welcome to join next week’s adventure!

The theme for the Writing Adventure Group #8 was “Rose Colored Glasses“. I’m excited to see we have several new names on the list this time!

Don’t forget! The Writing Adventure Group is on Facebook. Join us there too, and get weekly reminders so you never miss an adventure.

For those who participated, please cut and paste the links below (and instructions for next week, if you wish) to your own blogs. This will help promote the group and give some linky love to each other, creating a fantastic cross-promotional network of WAGs!

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http://www.nixyvalentine.com/index.php/writers-group/
http://corazane.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-adventure-group-results-7.html
http://nancyjparra.blogspot.com/2009/04/wag-part-8.html
http://writerelbow.blogspot.com/2009/04/entry-for-wag-8-writing-adventure-group.html
http://christinekirchoff.wordpress.com/2009/04/20/almost-beautiful-scar/
http://luni.net/?p=695
http://www.facebook.com/topic.php?topic=7651&uid=71548140942#/note.php?note_id=74512348686&ref=nf
http://dmwcarol.livejournal.com/607018.html
http://marshawrites.blogspot.com/2009/04/wag-8-rose-coloured-glasses.html
http://the-tale-wagging-the-blog.blogspot.com/2009/04/dream-home.html
http://introspectiveliar.blogspot.com/2009/04/wag-8-signs-of-life.html
Next week’s Writing Adventure:

“WAG #9: Warning!” Last week the topic was to make something ugly sound beautiful, so this time let’s do the opposite! Choose an unfamiliar object (in other words, one you have no history with) that strikes you as beautiful, appealing, or somehow desirable etc… some ideas might be: a child, a sunset, an attractive shop window, a scenic view, a piece of art, an appetising meal in a restaurant… and write about it in such as way as to make it unappealing or even disgusting, frightening or repulsive to your reader. If you did last week’s topic as well (Rose Colored Glasses) I’d be very interested to know which of these was harder for you!

Post the results on your blog, and read this post about the group for information on how to notify me so your post will be properly included in next week’s list. (Note, please include WAG #8 in the subject heading and tell me how you want your name to appear please!) Deadline: next Tuesday, April 28th.

Writing exercise, prompt 'bluebells'

The carpet of blue stretches before me, the occasional splash of yellow breaks up the blue, the canopy of trees shields me from the hottest of the sun’s rays. As I move deeper into the forest a familiar smell comes to me. It is earthy and damp, the smell of a childhood spent expelling worms from flowerbeds, digging dams in the woods and making makeshift swings from tree branches and rope.
I used to love it here in the woods, turned out of doors as soon as was breakfast was done and not expected to come back until it was tea time, those were the days when a few of us would meet in the woods, play and entertain ourselves all day, the innocence and freedom we had so plentiful.
Time has moved on though, and so have I, that was thirty years ago – and now here I am leading the hunt. A young girl of eight, older than I was my first summer in the woods, now missing for three days, and no clues as to where she could be. We have already put the distraught parents on television making a heartfelt plea for her safe return, all the adjectives describing her from her friends, teachers and family had been plastered over the local paper and local news to no avail.
As I look around at the bluebells and the ferns I can’t see any evidence of childhood games, instead the flowers that used to be tamed by the trampling of boy’s feet as we made our uncaring way through to our newest den have taken charge. The woods no longer ring with the sounds of play fights, scavenger hunts or picnics, nowadays the parks are deserted, and gardens are the refuge of choice for the school holidays. A place that for me holds so many happy memories is now the province of fly tippers and villains.
We are searching in the standard fan flank, using our batons blindly in the far- fetched hope of finding a clue. The truth is we have run out of places to look, Taya, for that is the girls name although still considered a missing person on file is regarded by the police as a body waiting to be discovered, and it seems that the obvious place to look is the place we used to play as kids. Heads bob up and down in a parody of the flowers nodding in the summer breeze, the bees drowned out by the thwack of the sticks.
The line moves forward and the radio crackles with static
‘Guv, got something’ it is the words I have both been hoping for and dreading, a clue that might lead us to the girl, a body but maybe an end to the nightmare one way or another. I know no further details will come over the radio, members of the public are assisting in the search, I approach the location with trepidation.
The officer is standing still, looking down at a heap, crumpled up and folded over and I fear the worst.
‘Medical back-up is on the way’ the Officer informs me and my only response is a curt nod. The bright red jumper and blue jeans fit in well with the woods, the bluebells nearby are the same colour as the jeans.
‘At least her clothes are still on her’ I mutter to myself and stoop down, I know I have to be careful not to disturb the scene but I need to know what I am dealing with. I pull on the standard white gloves that smell of rubber and instantly make my hands feel clammy. As I reach towards her the bundle moves and I fall over onto my bottom, an incident that will be joked about until I end my career.
A frightened face with eyes wide and wondering meet mine as I recover my composure.
‘Where am I?’’ says a little voice, cracked at the edges, we shout for water and offer it to her, gently does it.
Hours later we discover that Taya was taken by a man, he got spooked when she began screaming and left her in the woods, she made a den, just like I had all those years ago and slept under the stars. The tearful reunion brings a glisten even to the eyes of some of the most hardened officers, so rarely do we get a happy ending. As we clear up and move out I am thankful for the happy ending, thankful that the woods have once again provided a happy ending and as I leave the bluebells behind me I wonder if the next time I am here searching I will be so lucky.

The Weed (Writing Adventure Group #8)

WAG #8 Find out more about the Writing Adventure Group here;http://www.nixyvalentine.com/index.php/writers-group/

Weeds

It’s out there now, in the garden creeping through the soil, burrowing down in the dark to choke the life out me expensive herbaceous border. Eager for its next victim its tendrils unfurl towards the sun eager for more of its life giving warmth.
When I next venture out into the garden it has spread, the weed is now covering an area twice as big as it was two days ago. Its green leaves are cloaked in spikes warning would be invaders of its own strength. I start to admire it as its light yellow flowers, so delicate against the leaves, serve to attract bees, essential for its future survival. Even the slightly sweet, earthy aroma helps the beetles and bees find their way to it poisoned but perfumed chalice. Determined that my garden will be beautiful I reach for my gloves but as I bend and gaze at the vast proliferation wondering where to start I can’t help but admire it.

I consider the sheer determination of the weed to succeed, prepared quite literally to climb over and choke its rivals. It reminds me of the driving force behind its actions, the fight for life. Its ability to disguise itself as a flower and persuade the bees to spread its seeds across several acres are akin to the social climber struggling to desperately to tame her sagging bosoms and persuade the other mothers at the gates that she is part of their club, a yummy mummy.

The prickles on the leaves defending it against those insects that seek to injure rather than help, remind me of the first time people meet, keen to get on with those that could help them, be their friend and aid their cause, but with defences in place just in case the stranger might be a hindrance rather than a help. So the weed creeping through the garden, insinuating itself into the heart of my garden is really an inspiration for the ambition of the human condition, all hail the lowly weed I think as the sun dips behind a cloud, I remove my gloves and grant a stay of execution.

Hello and Welcome

Welcome to the blog. This is a blog to find a whole range of things; book reviews and social comments.
You may not agree with me but it's good to talk although let's keep it polite please.
First a few things about me;
I am a Mum to three youngsters who are until August as least, all under five, yes they were all planned and yes it is hard work but all self inflicted!
I do drive a seven seater people carrier so am probably contributing to all sorts of global warming problems - sorry!
Having said that we have discovered those things that are at the end of out legs, even better putting one in front of the other propels us forward allowing us to walk, something we do on a regular basis.
My eldest and from September, my middle child attend a fee paying school, and this from a teacher who spent four years in the state sector teaching.
I am married to a banker 'ducks' although we do not enjoy a 'champagne lifestyle'. I am a Stay at home Mum although try to supplement our income with my writing, If you like chick-lit, you'll love my first book Tumbling Through Life available here; http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tumbling-Through-Life-Melanie-Trevelyan/
I look forward to talking to you all