WRiTE Club 2019: Now It Can Be Revealed!
a da!
Now that the 2019 Edition of WRiTE Club has ended (congratulations to Wendy Cross and all the participants!), I can reveal my own input:
I wrote under the pen name Galadhon, and fought in bout 3!
Here's the scene I entered, the opening of Blackbird's Song:
The ghost appeared in the doorway.
I saw her from my cot, and thought it was Alice, in a Victorian dress of her grandmother’s, or some such fool thing. But Alice is no fool, and she has no business in Vimy field hospital anyway.
Five other cots in this tent, all occupied. But this was in the still, cold hour before dawn, and the other men slept, wounds buried beneath prickly wool. I’d also been asleep, and dreaming of Alice, on an icy winter morning at the skating rink in Westmount Park. I was showing off, recreating some of my best weaves and dodges from last season’s hockey matches, and in my cot I tried to turn, and the searing pain in my leg jolted me awake.
I was afraid I’d cried out, and kept motionless, as if evadin…
Now that the 2019 Edition of WRiTE Club has ended (congratulations to Wendy Cross and all the participants!), I can reveal my own input:
I wrote under the pen name Galadhon, and fought in bout 3!
Here's the scene I entered, the opening of Blackbird's Song:
The ghost appeared in the doorway.
I saw her from my cot, and thought it was Alice, in a Victorian dress of her grandmother’s, or some such fool thing. But Alice is no fool, and she has no business in Vimy field hospital anyway.
Five other cots in this tent, all occupied. But this was in the still, cold hour before dawn, and the other men slept, wounds buried beneath prickly wool. I’d also been asleep, and dreaming of Alice, on an icy winter morning at the skating rink in Westmount Park. I was showing off, recreating some of my best weaves and dodges from last season’s hockey matches, and in my cot I tried to turn, and the searing pain in my leg jolted me awake.
I was afraid I’d cried out, and kept motionless, as if evadin…
