My object was a rock

So back in September I went to a ‘Writing for the Young Adult’ workshop ran by the Hunter Writers Centre. Talks were given by the wonderful Kaz Delaney, Lizzie Wilcock and Amy Lovat. It was fascinating and insightful, I found these three women to be lovely, with a wealth of knowledge between them.

For a bit of fun the ladies gave us two random photos and an object, we were then asked to write an opening line for a story and a scene of dialogue using the photos and item as a prompt. I got a photo of a river and a male teen wearing a leather jacket while playing the guitar, my object was a rock.

I thought I’d share what I came up with – I even made Genie a name plaque picture thingy, not at the time of writing, but last night when re-reading and deciding to share her with you.Genie

 *     *     *     *

Billy was going to be a star. Then Billy drowned when I crashed my car.

My bedspreads covered in glass. One of locals has thrown another rock through my bedroom window. It has been happening regularly since I crashed my car in the river. I’d just picked Billy, my boyfriend up from band rehearsal when a bright light exploded across the road in front of us. I freaked and swerved hard. My car rolled and ended up in the river. The next thing I knew I was laying soaking wet on my bed at home with no explanation as to how I got there.

 *     *     *     *

He looked at me, pain crinkling his already wrinkled old face.

I sighed “I’m sorry granddad, I just can’t”

“Darling, you haven’t left the house in months”.

He just doesn’t get it, no body gets it.

“I’m sorry” is all I can manage before slamming my head face first onto my pillow.

“Please Genie, life must go on”.

Right then another rock sails through my bedroom window, smashing the newly replaced glass.

I sit up to see my grandfather hot footing it down the stairs “see it’ll never be ok, I can never leave” but I’m screeching at empty air. I can hear my grandad out on the front lawn yelling.

*     *     *     *


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