Write on Wednesdays

I have known for awhile about something called Write on Wednesdays, and have been writing for myself, but I think it is time to publish some of my short works and link them to Inkpaperpen. I cannot guarantee they are any good, but the only way to get better is to practice. To all my regular blog readers, Write on Wednesdays gives one prompt every week, and bloggers can link their post to the WoW post. To anyone from WoW, this is my first time and I am sorry if it is not very good. I am mostly a poet, but I love to write short scraps of things for fun, and I am always looking for ways to improve my writing. One other thing, I went a little over the word count because I forgot about it. I will try harder in the coming weeks, I promise! Well, here goes...


The Write On Wednesday Rules: Get creative with the writing exercises - there isn't a right or wrong. Please do try to visit the other members of Write On Wednesdays and leave a comment. You can grab the button for Write On Wednesdays from my sidebar.

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 15 - Give yourself some time to notice the people around you. The people who may cross your path each day. Choose one person, someone you don't know, and this person will become the basis of the week's writing exercise. Describe this person as you see them, describe their surroundings. Then imagine a problem, create conflict for this person. Describe the conflict. Describe how your character deals with the problem. The conflict might resolve itself, it might not. It is up to you.  The aim is to show how your character responds to conflict and in the process, reveal something about that character. Tell us their story.

He had the radio on to some trashy station that he wasn’t paying attention to. His foot was resting easily on the gas pedal as he puttered up another nondescript street. The collar of his shirt was itchy, and his hand frequently found itself scratching his neck. At the first house, he stopped and, grabbing his oversize carrier bag, climbed out of the blue and white truck and walked up the steps. 

His worn out sneakers slapped the sidewalk as he gathered the letters and ads in one hand and expertly dished them out into the mailbox. Was that a wedding invitation?  He inwardly groaned at the advertisements which he saw so often, knowing that only he could appreciate their nastiness. He, who carried them around all day, wishing desperately that he would find a wad of cash tucked into the magazines, or a secret note on the back of a letter, just to make his life a little less mundane. 

The letters were different. He loved those envelopes, which told so many stories about the people who trusted their correspondence to him. He only wished that some day there would be more, not the dwindling number of droopy birthday wishes and sappy wedding invites. Every day he yearned more for true letters, fat paper packages filled with pages of deep sentiments and secret thoughts. 

Over the years, he had begun to lose hope, waiting day after day for something special, something addressed to him. His hair had whitened, his bones had grown old and weary, yet still the postman waited. He knew his day would come, and when it finally happened, he was ready for it. He sat in his truck, which was nearly as old as he was, smiled an elderly smile, and ripped open the bulging envelope, only to gasp aloud and fall back into his seat, completely stunned.