Last night I went to an amazing writing group with a few other girls. We were shown a photo as a prompt (I don't have the photo to show you here :() and this is what I wrote.
After not writing for a longggg time, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to but it was so inspiring to be with those girls. Something about the environment, too-- a quiet library. So inspired now to continue work on my 2018 NaNoWriMo novel!
*NOTE* the following is entirely unedited but I'd still love to hear your opinion on it. :) comment below and tell me!
The sun really pulled out all the stops. The happy object beamed, let its rays dance and sparkle in the water as we laid side by side. Sand clung to our clothes, not swimwear. It was a moment I would've never given up-- not for three more lifetimes. Jazzy, in her element. Water lapping at my toes. Sun burns we could have prevented.
A clap of thunder pulled me out of the memory. I yelped before I could stop it.
"Just thunder," my older brother grunted from the reclining chair.
He tired to be gruff and harsh, he truly did, but the act didn't fool me. When is counted, he stood firk beside me like a rock. Like the rock Jazzy and I had climbed that day.
"You're thinking about her."
Times like these. Stormy, rainy, dark and fierce nights. "Yeah."
"Shayla," he sighed. "What will we do with you?"
I smiled. A tear escaped. "Throw me out for the garbage man."
He put down his book to meet my gaze but found it steady on the storm outside.
"Violet called," he said. "She wanted me to talk to you."
"About what?" My murmur trailed off, drowned by another clap of thunder.
"Her family is going to the Point for a vacation."
A stone settled in the pit of my stomach. The bushes rustled.
"Why did she want you to talk to me?" I knew the answer.
"She said, 'Dylan, Shayla needs a vacation.'" He paused. "And she's right. We all do."
I shook my head, falling into a stupor. "No."
"No? That's it?"
I flashed back to the muddy treeline scarring the edge of the Point's beautiful scenery and grounds.
"I can still see it; the mud, the rain... I can still hear us calling her name-- him calling her name."
Joshua. His ugly face filled the frame of my mind.
"He may not ever be there," Dylan argued. "If he is... time changes a person."
"He had no right."
"Shayla, please. I promise Violet I would--"
"No." I jumped from the window seat with a thump. "You don't understand, Dylan."
I ran from the room, bare feet slapping on tile. Behind me I heard Dylan speak. I hunkered behind the door frame, breath hot and heavy, listening.
"Maybe not, but I'm trying to," he called. A long moment. "Shayla?"
The recliner chair thudded back into a seated position. He didn't move and neither did I.
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Christy ~ currently trying to figure out what’s wrong with me