Walking up the driveway, she bent down and scooped up a rock from the garden. She bounced it in her hand to test its weight as she climbed the stairs to the porch and across to the front door. Not caring about being quiet or if anyone was looking, she hurled the rock through the thin window beside the door. Careful of the shards left, she reached in and undid the deadbolt, unlocked the door, and went inside.
Category: An Old Photograph
Yesterday I was staring at a blank screen in Word. I’ve been here many times before. Generally I have an idea, a name or an event. Generally I have some idea of what I want to write about. I begin with an opening sentence, any sentence will do and then I just keep writing in the hope that some of it stays on the page. That’s how my writing began, looking at a blank screen after the children left home. I bought the computer for them, not me. Then they grew up and left home to discover themselves, or something like that. But the computer stayed. It became part of the furniture like my dog, Rufus. Every time I looked at it, it looked back, just like Rufus. Rufus is a black, grey, tan, gold and white German Shepherd who, when he’s not madly running in the park trying to catch a Frisbee, will often be seen camped at my feet wherever I am. The local children love him. He tolerates them because he knows he has to; it’s a rule I impressed upon him in the early years. He’s more mature now and doesn’t get excited as quickly as he used to. He has a friend who lives next door; a cat named Ginger. They are soul mates. Ginger comes over the fence each morning after her breakfast and they sit together on the back landing and enjoy the warmth of the sun.