Saturday, 15 February 2014
Written for the final exercise at the Shepherd's Dene writing workshop I attended last week.
We were given a photograph as a prompt and asked to write something about the person in the picture. The photograph I was given was of a man/woman sitting on a bench in the grounds of the house, looking out across the autumn gardens. The picture was slightly out of focus and taken from behind, so the face could not be seen, the person could have been male or female. I decided on male, and called him James.
This is my piece. Feel free to comment.
James sat, hunched, on the bench. He stared out across the gardens, but he didn't see the trees bathed in their autumn reds and golds. He saw a different scene. A different red.
To the casual observer he could just have been someone enjoying a moment of calm in a busy day, but his calm, still exterior belied the turmoil of his thoughts. Images from earlier in the day crowded in on him. He struggled to make some kind of sense of the events, to find some hint of what he should do next.
How had he gotten involved in it all? He tried to pinpoint the moment when things began to go wrong. Had he done somethingto cause it all? Was it all his fault again?
In his mind he replayed the events of the day. Minute by minute, turning this way and that, trying to see all the angles, every point of view. But he couldn't see it. However he viewed it, it all just seemed inexplicable. He couldn't see that anything he had said or done could have caused the chaos that had errupted.
This time, he was sure. It had not been his fault. This time, someone else was to blame.