broadwill-writes

[broadwill-writes]

Me after finishing The Well of Ascension. 

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Today’s writing prompt was called “burning down the house”. And since I’ve been reading Mistborn (a fantasy novel about a rebellion), this is the result.  Check out more creative writing on my blog: www.spokeswomanadventures.com/creative-writing  ____________________________ The servants were out; it was time. The rebels pulled back on their drawstrings and released a volley of flaming arrows toward the building, then watched as they arced up into the sky and turned down toward the manor house. Arrows hitting the roof made a cacophony of thock, thock, thock and an occasional clatter as some that didn’t get a foothold fell to the ground. A few bounced off the stone masonry on the outside, others shattered windows, and the crashing and tinkling of glass panes was like music to the rebel’s ears. It wasn’t long before the inside of the manor house glowed with an orange light. Flames licked up the sides of the window frames as heavy draperies caught fire. A man on horseback galloped up to the archers from the back of the house. “Sir, I saw the Benton family escaping out the back, heading into the eastern fields.” The rebel he was talking to smiled. “Good, let them run. Let them fear us the way we feared them for generations.” The man turned to his fellow archers. “Do you hear that, friends?! The Bentons are running scared! Mark this night, and tell your children. You were here when the revolution began!” The men and women in the ranks cheered as the orange glow danced across their faces. Now, it was time to prepare for war.

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My January reads. 

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The Library, 1905, Elizabeth Shippen Green

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Even before I look out the window, I know when there is snow. The light is different. It bounces through the apartment from more angles, diffusing through the rooms with a characteristic fullness. Especially so today, as it was sunny outside. The scent of coffee drifted up from my steaming mug as I walked to the window and glanced over the balcony to the giant white pine that towers over the house.

Snow clung to the bark of the tree on the tops of the branches, highlighting the forms like a painter trying to add contrast. The soft blue-green needles waved gently, and flakes of snow wafted down to the street below. The sun caught them as they floated on the invisible currents, sparkling like glitter. It had a very ethereal quality.

The window panes fogged as I leaned closer, my breath casting a warm haze over the wintry scene below. One branch caught my eye as it bobbed and swung back into place, out of step with the swaying movements of the others. A squirrel dashed along the branch and then disappeared up and out of sight.

I expected to see dog walkers on the sidewalk below, but none came while I was standing there, absorbing the picturesque spectacle. It was early, and there were few footprints in the snow, save for some Michael and I had made on our evening walk the night before.

Pogie hopped down from her chair and trotted over to me as I sipped my coffee, wondering what I was staring at. She stood on her hind legs and stretched up at the doorknob, her front paws resting on the door as she did so. It was her telltale sign she wanted to go out onto the balcony. For much of the year, we leave the balcony door open so she can enjoy the outdoors without fear of her wandering off. And she let us know in no uncertain terms that she lamented us keeping the door closed in the winter. I opened the door a crack and let her dash out, then smiled as I saw her pause about two feet outside the doorframe and reconsider. It was only 12 degrees. I imagined the cold seeping up through her little toe beans. It only took about half a minute before she turned around and meowed at the door, wanting to be let back in. We’d go through this routine again tomorrow.

With regret, I turned from the window. Away from the dust-sized snow crystals that looked like flakes of metal glinting in the sun as they fluttered to the ground below. Time to sit and knock out my writing prompt for the day before I started on chores. ________________________________________

Check out more creative writing on my website: www.spokeswomanadventures.com/creative-writing