Stale bread

 I missed a seminar today, which turned out to be a blessing. The tutor gave strange things to write about. While procrastinating on work, I attempted to write some of them, spending an minute's thought on each one. None of these writings are serious.




Write a piece of writing starting "When I die, I will miss"

When I die, I will miss your warm breath...
The stench of cheese and onion,
And the slight hint of beer.

When I die, I will miss your wide eyes...
Always confused, bloodshot,
Not often sober.

When I die, I will miss your smile...
A lazy grin, effortless,
With a coffee stain above the upper lip.

When I die, I will miss your gentle nature.
I'm sure you really didn't mean to punch your best friend in the face,
Or tell the teacher to do himself.

When I die, you won't remember me.
When I die, I'll regret remembering you.


"Imagine you are somebody else in this room, write as if you are them"


WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
OH MY FRIGGEN GOODNESS A SPINNY CHAIR IN A COMPUTER ROOM. LETS JOUST EVERYBODY!



"Describe in detail a city that you've spent less than three days in"


The coach passed through the dull streets of Exeter, past the white ensign building and the national flags. There's a cathedral around somewhere - you have to pay to get in. I probably won't go in. There's also a museum... Somewhere. And a burger stand with a polite lady right outside Exeter St Davies. The Christmas market is probably still open, selling cheesy trinkets no one wants. The pubs look like any other kind of pub, but slightly more dead. The older women seem to make more of an effort to look classy. A practice that has not been fully adopted in Suffolk. The station staff are nice. Oh look, I've passed Exeter.


"An outdoor location of some kind that you experienced only after dark"



He said, 'lets go for a walk.'
Now, if I have inherited anything from my father, it was the ability to judge the time it takes to walk long distances.
Or should I say, the lack of it.
I was not scared, honestly. Walking along a beach at the dead of night through sand that often slipped down the thin pathways was completely, and utterly safe. Never mind having to share one torch and no mobile phone on hand in case things go wrong.
I could walk in front - with the torch, be the first one attacked by a passing psychopath, or be behind, the first one attacked front he behind from a passing psychopath.
I weighed the options.
I walked in front.
I tried not to think of the rustling bushes so close to the path, they often brushed my leg with their thin leaves and pointy branches. Instead, I was generous with my torch, and sometimes directed to the shore.
That's when it highlighted a peculiar 'hut', worn and rotting, it had originally been made simply. No door - just a gap. The gap was a void of darkness.
"Lets go there!" My dad said with joyful curiousty.

First we had to get down from the path. We could brave the very steep and sandy hills, or jump off the ledge.
Of course, we jumped off the ledge.

There was nothing particular interesting about the hut, but I really didn't feel comfortable when my father shoved a torch inside. What if somebody was living there? I realise now, a year and a half or so later, that was a ridiculous thought, the tide would come in every so often and flood it completely. My dad wanted to step inside, but I begged him not to. Eventually, after a little further along the beach, we decided to head back.

I never saw the hut again.