Sunday, January 12, 2014
I attended my writing circle’s monthly breakfast meeting on Saturday. Due to family commitments, this is something I haven’t been able to do for quite some time. It was inspiring and I realized how much I miss meeting with such a gifted group of people.
The format has changed somewhat since the last time I attended. There is now a writing prompt…after all, I would expect nothing less from a writing group.
Saturday’s writing prompt at the WCDR breakfast: five minutes to write a postcard story.
* * *
He brought her a gift—he always brought a gift; as if the weekly tithe would dispel her anger and forgive his sins.
It was expensive, as were all his gifts, but the dainty pendant lay cold between her small breasts.
He fingered the gold cross she now wore, his hands travelling lower. “Do you like it?”
The fog of bourbon smothered her as his mouth crushed hers and she fought the bile that rode high in her throat.
“I like it,” she whispered.
The lie, she told herself, was a small price to pay to be daddy’s little girl.