I joined a creative writing club (because I seriously do not know how to make friends now that I’m not in school or living in staff accommodation) and after going to my first meeting this past Thursday, I’ve been thinking a lot about fiction writing. I used to write a lot of (fan)fiction when I was in high school and I’ve completely stopped. So, I was inspired by all of the established and passionate writers in the club to maybe start a new story. We’ll see how that goes.
For now, here’s a tiny scene I wrote about a year ago when I was subscribed to a daily writing prompt email. The prompt was: write a scene that involves the words ‘ripe’ and ‘follow’
“Follow me,” she said. And I did.
Through the forest I’d been in so many times growing up – it seemed a lot bigger when I was smaller.
Past the tiny creek, into a court of houses and then into a new forest, one I’d never been in.
We walked for a while in silence, her navigating and me trying to look at everything at once. Then we came upon a midnight clear. Just kidding. We found what she must have been looking for – blueberries. I’d forgotten it was even that time of year. They were all ripe and somehow we’d gotten to them before the birds. We ate them. I don’t think I’d ever eaten so many blueberries, there’s just something about eating fruit from where it’s been growing that makes it so much better. It’s like magic. She told me that she found this bush the first time she tried to run away. She’s on the track team now and blueberries still grow here.
I told her about my adventures in the first forest, the one my dad would take me into. He used to tell us bedtime stories about the warlocks and lions and magic that went on there, with my siblings and I of course the rulers of the land. Sometimes I question whether he actually told me that or I just dreamt it. Sometimes all those stories feel like real memories.
The time I spent in the forest with her was definitely real. We didn’t take any blueberries home with us, we both knew it was something to be left in the woods. It wouldn’t be the same, anyway.
We went back for a picnic a week later and the bushes were full again – for some reason I thought they would be long gone.