Yes, I wrote this whilst sitting and waiting....
In a corner of the Fun writers weekly Challenge home, theres a a resounding snore. A flash of red hair can be seen at the top of a chair and a blue and white uniform looks slightly crumpled. Beside this body there sits a cold coffee and a large torch. The room itself is festively decorated with Christmas tales past, present, and future decorating the floors. An assortment of pens, pencils, quills and computer printer ink cartridges adorn the ceiling. It appears they are suspended by strands from the forum.
The focal point of the room is the budding Jacaranda tree, its rose wood scent permeates the air and just barely covers the scent of the unwashed body that is asleep on a recliner. On the many side tables there are an assortment of treats for all of the visiting family, but its under the tree that is the best. Under the tree someone has placed a series of parcels, all of varying shapes and sizes. All are adorned in typical Australian aboriginal wrappings. There are gift tags on each of these parcels, they sit patiently waiting for the Family to rise from there continued clicking and clacking, all have been studiously working on whatever project has taken their collective fancy at this joyous time of the year.
Previously to the sleeping body arriving there was a plate of mars bar slice and hedgehog sitting on a table, with a glass of freshly milked cow juice. At the front door there was a might wad of sugar cane, its ends now chewed and splintered. Had the body been awake they would have seen a toga wearing man arrive and lasso six white boomers to the front post of the house.
So called summer storms had riven havoc across the lands, with their blustery winds and massive changes to the environment. The house in the lane, sits waiting, patiently wondering from its foundations to its secluded attic if the family will come home soon and if they are safe. The house FWWC has forever and will continue to be a safe haven for all writers. Novice and professional alike, many friendships has been spawned in this house and it radiates a heart beat that is stronger and louder with every passing year. Yes, there has been some redocaration of the home, but it has always been for the betterment of the family that travels from around the globe to sit and reflect on their tales with their comrades in pen and ink.
All slip rugs that had previously adorned the falls have been removed, for now its summer and the polished boards shimmer and shine in expectant welcome. Large comfy two and three seater lounges, sit quietly waiting for the soft groan of their springs to be squashed under the weight of imaginative minds,the lounges bear the toil of many a long night of scribing, ink stains melt into the fabric, coffee cup rings await another circle and dust bunnies hop around waiting for the forth coming move so they too can visit family under another lounge.
The sleeping body stirs and opens a bleary eye, slowly it gathers itself and pushes its svelte weight from the chair. Theres a silent but deadly, and the body smiles as it looks around the abandoned room. Reaching down, a finger hooks into some undies that have ridden into a crack and they take a tentative step forward. Their peripheral vision catches the cold coffee, a hand with adorned Christmas nails, snags the handle and it is rapidly brought to the thin lips of the red head. With barely a sound the red head gulps down the wet and albeit cold substance, eying the hedge hog and mars bar slice. They contemplate if a a piece of each would be missed, but know that two seconds on the hips means forever on the hips.
Slowly the foggy mind tunes in and the clear blues look around with a sense of trepidation. 'Did I stuff up the dates and times? or did I sleep through the gathering?' The eyes scan the room, 'No, if I'd slept through, there'd be a mess for the last to leave to clean up.' Slowly the red head steps forward, heading to the calendar on the desk near the door.
Noting that in the hours that she'd been sleeping that someone had been into the room and there was evidence of that person or persons littering the room. Slight scuff marks adorned the floor, some gem dust fluttered in the early mornings light. But what made her smile was the gifts under the Jacaranda, they'd not been there earlier. She knew then that the Toga cladded man had dropped in whilst she'd been napping.
Fighting the temptation to take a look at the gift tags the red head, heads to the back of the house. Softly she pushes open the fly-screen door and dodges the fly strip that dangles forlornly with its varied carcasses of flies that were tempted by its sweet smelling nectar. Steeping over the mat she briefly reads its inscription.'Friends are the Family you choose and please wipe your feet or your going to be doing the mopping.' A slight chuckle escapes her lips as she steps down the porch and into the yard, her direction is already predetermined. Its the long drop that she is in search of.
Holding her breath, she enters. But is pleasantly surprised when a small whiff, intrudes her nostrils. Making her smile. 'Looks like someones been busy.' She thinks as she quickly scans the area, to ensure that no bities are lurking in the dark recesses. Grasping her belt, she realizes that she'd left her torch inside the house, shrugs and undoes the catch, hanging its slight weight from a peg, she fumbles with the top most button of her work pants.
Sitting quietly, she smiles with a deep relief. Then she notes the small graffittied inscriptions on the walls. What she reads has her chuckling heartily. Noting the pen that has been conveniently left in the outhouse, she decides to leave her family of friends a small tale. Hoping that when she returns to the outhouse, there will be some welcomed additions to the tale of the Christmas party at FWWC.
*****See what happens when you leave night to her own devices.....now its your turn to add to the tale or not!
