No you are not going mad or abducted by aliens (that old chestnut), I have missed two weeks. I will get to those....soon. In the mean time here is week 5. The 'ask' is to take a strong and simple memory and make it the centrepiece of a story. It should be the only aspect of the story that is real. The exercise is asking us to explore memories as inspiration. Where do we get our ideas?
She danced for him in front of a velvet curtain. Long languid limbs flowing against the soft sway of emerald, designed to be a tantalising combination. Fingers drawing invisible paint strokes delicate and beautiful, illustrating the art of her movement.
But tonight as the dark descended and the moon was master once more he was disinterested.
It was her second dance and already it had lost its appeal.
The first had been a wonderful surprise, a spontaneous private performance, where every gesture, look and movement had thrilled him. Unexpected given most of these affairs started with a surge of frantic passion. This time it had been a slow burn, and he had hoped for a similar sensation for their second meeting.
Instead it was excruciating, contrived, almost boring. It seemed to him to be a banal cliche. There was something staged about it, as if he the audience was being manipulated to believe this was somehow unique.
He searched for a reason, how the two experiences could be so different. He did not realise he was staring at her, lost in the question. Unseeing eyes not focused on arms lifted high to accentuate the arch of the back, each hip taking a turn to play at the beat.
But there was no reason. Their moment was simply done. It could not be held tight to the beating chest. It was lost.
He turned from her, took a slug of whisky, and switched on the TV to catch the last report before European markets closed for the day. He assured himself, "I sleep better alone anyway."
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