so, i've started a writing class. i know some of you (ok, one of you) who reads this blog has been somewhat interested in my progress (as in my writings) as well as what sorts of things i'm learning. so ... in response, i've decided that i will post some of my work as well as some of the notes from the class. excitingly for those of you who have been disappointed with my lack of entries, this means that i'll now be doing about 2 a week for the next 10 weeks or so (although - i must warn you that there are two weeks without class, so - there might be times when i'm making entries less often ... but at the same time, i'm finding myself more inspired to write now, so maybe this will make me write more often period. it's all an experiment ... let's see how it works.
so ... without further ado (wow, i just wrote that as "adieu" .. what was i thinking?), here's my assignment from week number one - to write about a childhood place. i have tentatively entitled it, Ribbit:
The tractor coughs and then sputters before it continues ploughing the field just beyond the rustling reeds of the creek. Peeking out into the sunshine, I absorb the scent of fresh earth. For April, it is surprisingly humid underneath the tiny bridge.
I brush away the flake of cement that has become stuck to my forehead. This old bridge is falling apart. Rory's too scared to play under here. But still, as I explore, the stoic white German Shepherd waits, standing there, ankle deep in the water.
-- Crrroak -- I hold my breath. -- Crrrroooaaaakk -- I squint in the dark and the big, green frog comes into focus. I creep along towards the wily amphibian, crouched down so as not to hit my head. -- Plop -- he tries to sneak away, but I'm not fooled. It's easy to track his hops. I'm going to catch this frog!
The muddy water oozes into my pink rubber boots. Despite my best efforts at stealth, I slosh along. Little by little, I near my prize. Then, the fateful step onto that slippery, slimy stone.
When I open my eyes, Rory's licking my nose. Maybe Mom is right, playing under the bridge isn't safe.
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2 comments:
nice!
remember the days when rubber boots only came in yellow? or black with red-orange bottoms? maybe the occasional red. but never pink.
then again. if anyone had pink rubber boots, it would be you. with unicorns all over them.
oh, i had pink boots all right. nice pale pink boots - they matched the canopy on my bed. i think the unicorns approved. i remember i was so sad when i grew out of those pink rubber boots and had to wear the black ones with the red-orange bottoms.
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