In between being so busy that I’ve been stretched into transparency, I did discover a local writing group, and I’ve been attending the now twice-monthly meetings. This week involved a writing exercise which involved opening a random book of poetry to a random page, taking the first line of that poem and using that as inspiration to write for ten minutes straight, without worrying about anything.

• Keep your hand moving.
• Don’t cross out anything.
• Don’t worry about spelling and grammar.
• Lose control.
• Don’t think or get logical.
• Go for the jugular!

The poem I opened up to was Song in the Rock. All I know about it is the first line.

Anyway, what follows is verbatim what I came up with in those ten minutes. No idea where I was going with any of it, but here it is:

At the Red Rock House it grows. It knows no bounds. Skulking through the night like blood through the car seat, it permeates all, infects all, forgives none, pardons none. The night envelopes it, casting darkness across its glistening amorphous saturation as it climbs, crawls, penetrates and destroys. The wind, cool and clammy, caresses it softly and it seems to enjoy the contact. In the form of a cat it would purr, but mute and low it only slinks in silence. The Red Rock House is its cradle, its birthplace. Born from the darkest malevolence ever to breathe. But nobody sees it. Nobody that gets to live, at least. Few had visited the Red Rock House in over a decade. None had left. Their corpses lay, cold, stiff, unrotting. Their clothes still adorned them as it untouched by the passage of time. In the distance, through the midnight mists, there came the muffled drone of a motorcycle. There! It’s headlight pierced the night, stabbing into the dark, revealing almost colorless trees either side of the track that shouldn’t be there. Lost? The rider had become disoriented in the misty night. A soup of black had surrounded him for hours. Gas tank low, eyes heavy, limbs aching tired, he turned the last corner to find the Red Rock House covered, draped, drowning in it. Too late! The headlights glistened off the shimmering scarlet.

As I say, I had no idea where that was going. Pity really, I kind of liked it.

Anyway, I just wanted to share that while I had a few spare minutes.

I hope everyone has a wonderful week. Stay safe.

Categories: Exercises, Writing

Tags: Exercises, Writing, Writing Exercises