Story time
I'm sat at my desk, nursing my favourite morning concoction - half coffee (decaf as I am trying to cut out caffeine where possible) and half hot chocolate.
The theory is that calories in the milk and the chocolate will somewhat compensate for the lack of breakfast this morning. I ran out of milk this morning, and the bread was mouldy. I was paid today (yippee!) so I am going shopping as soon I get out of my meeting this afternoon.
We don't usually run out of anything (I am the Queen of the Stocked Cupboards) but I have a very small freezer, so I can't keep extra milk or bread. And I only go shopping once a week because otherwise I spend way too much money - I love food shopping with a passion.
I have to admit though, the theory isn't working. I am hungry, and nice as the chococoffee is, it isn't quite enough.
So, it's finally Friday. A few hours left, and then the weekend starts. The Baron and I are going to the Imperial War Museum on Sunday, which should be fun. I haven't been in years - last time I went in the air raid simulation 4 times in a row! We would go tomorrow, but my windscreen is finally being replaced so I have to wait in for the bloke to come and fix it. It will be nice to have full visibility again!
The Baron has developed a strange and slightly unhealthy obsession with Spitfires (which prompted the idea to visit the museum on Sunday). It started with his latest game, Battlefield 1942, and progressed when he started modelling his own to import into the game, and staying up most of the night to do so. Now he is reading a book on them (and the Baron emphatically does not read books) and watching a TV series where after a lengthy selection process, one lucky person is now learning to fly a real Spitfire. I don't mind though - we are going to one of my favourite museums, and I get to go in the bookshop. Not bad at all!
Right. Off to do some work, me thinks.
**********
Well, that didn't last too long. Sometimes, I don't think I am cut out for the Working World. I just don't really care enough - other than that my pay arrives each month. I do like what I do, but I would prefer not to work at all. And that makes it hard to bother on a day where all I have to do is attend a meeting at 2pm and ask a few questions. Two hours to go.
I wish I had the inspiration to write, but I have never had much imagination. I used to hate writing stories at school, because I find it so hard to come up with a character that I like, let alone actually care what happens to. If I don't like the people I write about, then why should anyone else? So writing is pretty much out. Even if I do know about grammar (!).
Must. Go. Do. Something.
**********
I wrote this over lunch. It is the first piece of creative writing I have done since I was 13 years old.
The movement was slight and almost imperceptible. But it was there.
He narrowed his eyes and stared intently. All was still again. He waited, barely breathing. He had to be sure that he was right - he couldn't afford to be wrong about this.
The room was cold. There had been no heat in there for a long time. Everything was cold to the touch. The air felt slightly damp, reflecting the deep fog that enveloped the building.
He exhaled slowly. Had he been mistaken after all? His tense body began to relax slightly, and he lay back down, savouring what little body heat he had.
It was completely quiet. He had heard a train rumble past, but he had no idea where the tracks were. That had been a few hours ago, and he had heard nothing else since.
There it was again! Another movement, and definitely stronger than before. He raised himself back up to get a clearer look, careful to keep hidden in the shadows. He didn't want to take any chances at all.
She was hidden by a great mound of covers. Covers that she shouldn't be needing anymore.
Her features were obscured in the darkness, but he could see that her eyelids were flickering. She was trying to open her eyes.
He made a snap decision. He had to end this now, before she opened her eyes. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. This was it.
He threw himself across the bed, and landed on the mound of covers just under her head. Her eyes jerked open and he could see the shock in her face as she registered the pain of his impact. She was completely taken by surprise. Her hands came up from under the covers as if to defend herself, but he blocked them with his body and her feeble attempts to push him away were easily resisted.
As he applied the necessary pressure to her throat, her eyes began to close again. He tightened his grip more and her hands came free and tried in vain to remove him from her throat.
Victory was his. It was all over.
He began to purr with contentment as she ran her hands through his fur and down his back. He nuzzled his whiskers into the warmth of her neck and relaxed into her arms as she cuddled him tightly, his little body vibrating with the intensity of his purrs. His hunt was over.
The End!
OK, I do know that it is crap, but it was fun to write. It took ages to find just the phrases that I wanted, but it was a nice challenge for me. And it is something that happens every night.
Off to my meeting. That won't be fun, but at least then I can go home
posted by DMouse007 @ 1/23/2004 07:39:00 PM
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