Tag Archives: Expectations

Friday Fiction – A Different Journey

It’s FF time and the photo from Claire Fuller which inspires us today is gorgeous. I’m a big fan of old churches and this one reminds me of the Norman church in the village where I grew up. I could happily stare at it all day.

But that wouldn’t get the story written! Head over to Rochelle’s masterpage if you’d like to see what other Fictioneers came up with. As always, your comments are welcome and constructive criticism is actively encouraged.

church_and_tree-claire-fuller

A Different Journey

Misty’s mother pulled the dress slowly over Misty’s head – careful not to disturb a single perfect curl. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her little girl: all grown up and moving on.

In the distance, the church bell chimed noon. The car would be here soon. They’d always expected she’d be married there – a nice boy, a traditional ceremony, a sunny day. Rain slashed the windows today, but it seemed only right for sending her on a different journey.

“She’ll be happy with Him,” said Dad, his voice quiet and croaky. “Until we’re ready to join her.”

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Friday Fiction – Star-crossed

Great to be back with the Friday Fictioneers (although I must admit I rather enjoyed my week in the Bahamas, leaving you with some scheduled posts in my absence!). This week the light from Rochelle‘s brandish falls on a photo from Kent Bonham – a challenging prompt indeed for a real life writer like myself. Let me know what you think!

kent-bonhamStar-crossed

Standing on the balcony, Melissa felt like Juliet after the masquerade ball. But there would be no Romeo climbing up to reach her tonight, and if Queen Mab was abroad, Mercutio wasn’t dancing with her.

Peter Ransome was downstairs: her very own Paris. Wasn’t the dead-cert Prom Queen supposed to attend with her King?

What would Juliet do? She thought, looking two floors down at the ground. But Juliet was married when she died; Lee didn’t even know how she felt yet. And Romeo wouldn’t jump.

She grasped tightly onto the drainpipe and swung her leg over the balcony railing.

***

For those who enjoy these things, here’s the original version, together with some notes about the changes.

v1

Standing out [cut – sounds like she’s standing out, rather than standing alone] on the balcony, she felt like Juliet after the masquerade ball. But there would be no Romeo climbing up to reach her tonight, and if Queen Mab was abroad, Mercutio wasn’t dancing with her. [I fought to keep this phrase in. It would have been an easy cut in one sense, but I have a strong affection for Queen Mab and Mercutio – those who met Vacant Edward will know why! -and this is one puppy I just couldn’t kill. Besides, it adds richness or texture or something.]

“Melissa, Peter’s here,” her Mum called from downstairs. [Ah, the old “exposition as dialogue” thing. Doesn’t stop it being exposition, and it was too many words. Had to go]

Peter: her very own Paris. Wasn’t the dead-cert Prom Queen supposed to attend with her future King?

What would Juliet do? She thought, looking down at the ground, two floors below. But Melissa hadn’t married her Romeo yet. He didn’t even know how she felt. [This whole final section really needed more words to do it justice, but I didn’t have that luxury. I played around with it a lot, trying to show Melissa’s emotions and dilemma better. Let me know if you have any ideas on how it could be improved!]

Juliet might jump, Melissa thought, but I can be Romeo instead. She grasped tightly onto the drainpipe and swung her leg over the balcony railing.

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