Time for another prompted free-write, a 30 minute activity writing whatever flows from a given sentence or idea.
Here is my favourite from the last week, but please bear in mind that it’s very rough and ready, and hasn’t been through much editing other than spell checking! I hope you enjoy …
It’s too quiet as I sit here, It’s the eve before the big ceremony and there doesn’t appear to be a single soul about. There would usually be a servant or two scurrying about, fetching and carrying something for one of the kings demands. They all seem to have disappeared tonight though. Maybe he’s finally done it and run them ragged, to exhaustion.
It’s just me sitting here now though, a lone soul amongst the statues and greenery. I can feel as well as hear the breeze flowing from one end of the courtyard to the other. It blows through my hair and rustles the longs folds of my dress. It is a welcome sensation against my bare arms, its coolness releasing some of the heat from the day.
The walls surrounding the courtyard are too high for me to see over, but I know what lies beyond them. I remember the dense woodland that hugs this side of the palace and its grounds, remember hiding out in them for days before bing captured. I hoped they hadn’t found my ship too, that would bring up far too many questions for them, more than they would be able to deal with. I’m sure that if it had been found someone would have made plenty of noise about it, so the silence at this point was a comfort.
It had been three weeks now since I’d been discovered, plenty of times for the others to locate my ships tracking beacon. I was sure it wasn’t more than a few miles away from here, surely a simple extrapolation from is crash site would give them my location. Something must have happened. Maybe the crash had been worse for the ship than I’d expected, the tracker could have been destroyed along with most of the rest of it. If that were the case it’s not a very good advert for the designers back home. who guaranteed that it would continue no matter what they threw at it. They obviously hadn’t taken my piloting skills into consideration.
The thought made me half smile; memories of home were becoming more painful with each day that passed now, and each day a tiny little piece of my hope died. I’d read hundreds of reports on rescue missions in the past, but not many were wholly successful after this length of time …