For my weekly activity in the Writing Family History Unit for my Diploma, I had to write Flash Stories of a limit of 250 words.
These exercises were aimed at teaching us the art of choosing our words, subject and genre of writing to tell stories that packed a punch, hooked the reader at the beginning, used different techniques of dialogue, description, showing instead of telling, etc.
We had a choice each week of six different topics. I can see a growth in my writing from my first story to that of my sixth story.
Here is my first foray into Family History story telling.
Louisa was cleaning the bar. She was tired and looking forward to when they could call closing time.
Her life was a busy one, with seven children under the age of thirteen and the baby not yet one. Sleep would elude her tonight, with Alfred snoring beside her and the baby waking constantly with those blessed teeth!
She thought sulkily that Alfred was taking a long time getting that bucket of water from the well. What could be taking that man so long!
Louisa bit her tongue for the umpteenth time that night. He had been drinking with his cronies again leaving all the work in the bar to her as usual. The Sugarloaf Inn wasn’t high class but it was a roof over their heads and good steady work. A far cry from their gold mining days.
Suddenly there was a commotion coming from the backyard. What were those men up to now?
One of the men came running in blabbering incoherently, he was too drunk to make head or tails of what he was saying.
Then she saw the rest of the men. Their faces told the full story. Alfred wasn’t with them.
The next thing she remembered was waking up in her bed by herself. No Alfred, no baby Ethel and a strange women sitting beside the bed.
Then the memory of last night came flooding back. Alfred had fallen down the well to his death. What was she going to do now?
We had a choice each week of six different topics. I can see a growth in my writing from my first story to that of my sixth story.
Here is my first foray into Family History story telling.
The Story in History
Louisa was cleaning the bar. She was tired and looking forward to when they could call closing time.
Her life was a busy one, with seven children under the age of thirteen and the baby not yet one. Sleep would elude her tonight, with Alfred snoring beside her and the baby waking constantly with those blessed teeth!
She thought sulkily that Alfred was taking a long time getting that bucket of water from the well. What could be taking that man so long!
Louisa bit her tongue for the umpteenth time that night. He had been drinking with his cronies again leaving all the work in the bar to her as usual. The Sugarloaf Inn wasn’t high class but it was a roof over their heads and good steady work. A far cry from their gold mining days.
Suddenly there was a commotion coming from the backyard. What were those men up to now?
One of the men came running in blabbering incoherently, he was too drunk to make head or tails of what he was saying.
Then she saw the rest of the men. Their faces told the full story. Alfred wasn’t with them.
The next thing she remembered was waking up in her bed by herself. No Alfred, no baby Ethel and a strange women sitting beside the bed.
Then the memory of last night came flooding back. Alfred had fallen down the well to his death. What was she going to do now?
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