Friday at the coffee shop down the street
from my housemate’s flat we did two writing exercises: although everyone
preferred their first story, the object of these periods being to simply write
– well, badly or indifferently – I thought that it was also worth publishing
the second lot so any would-be writers out there can see that it’s all a matter
of perspective and appreciation. Sometimes the story you prefer will not be the
one your audience prefers. I know this from my photos: I am often amazed at the
cards my friends will chose as they are often not the photos that I like best.
So for what it’s worth – here is the second
series (in the same order author-wise)
Story one – D-L N
Jean followed his brother watching the
kid’s backpack that was almost as big as his brother, the little shit.
“Make sure he gets into the school” his mother would say as she handed them their
lunch.
Jean would sell his and use the money for a
joint.
Thomas knew his brother was behind him but
didn’t want anyone to know his mother insisted he not be alone.
Jean didn’t want any of his buds to see him
with his little brother so the distance suited both.
At the school Jean held back until Thomas
disappeared. He knew the brat would
raise to answer all the questions he
could, hand in his homework, which would be perfect and his teacher who said
“You are certainly different from your big brother”.
She’d been Jean’s teacher, the bitch who
never understood that when he looked at the letters they jumped around.
Sighing he walked to the alley where he
ditched his backpack. Maybe he’d spend
the day in the woods --- anywhere but the classroom.
He went close enough to the school to sell
his lunch. A fast sale and he was off to freedom from the weight of his life.
Story LS
He was late for school again and so was
Selby who was running down the street a few feet ahead of him. His mother was always nagging him to hurry,
drink your chocolate, do your homework, have you had a shower yet, did you
brush your teeth, and forget about the homework question.
He was going to cut school one day, he was
going to hop on a train, be a hobo for a few years and then come to his mum and
say Mum see? No school, no problem.
Because the thing about parents was that
they always saw the bad side of life – He had read on the internet about these
businessmen who had started their own company and made tons of money and
travelled and were famous and role models and in the end, they were all
dropouts and that’s what he had to show his mum, that he could be who he wanted
to be.
But at 12 years old, all the adults in his
life saw was grades, manners and who he hung out with.
Story JSL
Nonchalantly he sauntered down the road
past the church, head uncovered – never mind his mother’s request that he cover
those ears – he might take cold.
It was nice to be allowed to go back to
school; it was lovely to not have to submit to any more treatments. Cancer was
a thing of the past – he was off to continue a normal life.
The Tramontane blew but he felt invigorated
by it: he no longer feared the cold.
His friend followed a few paces behind –
sweatshirt and jeans totally covering every body part.
What was very interesting about the two “bodies”
– two authors had them as brothers, the third had noticed that one was
dark-skinned, the other white.
