On a roll, I guess
So, it seems that since I've started my creative writing class I've started writing more (which...really shouldn't be this surprising). I even keep a notebook specifically for me to write stuff in as I sit in class and don't take notes.
Anyway, I started another story today. It's about an archer. Because I love archery. And it was fun and quick to write.
Left hand out, right hand pulls, deep breath, pause, release. Tension leaves, then a soft thud.
"Hey Robbie," the boy greeted, hopping up on the picnic table, bright tennis shoes resting on the bench.
"Hmm," the archer responds, pulling another arrow from the ground quiver and nocking it.
Hold, pull, breathe, release. Thud. Robbie's eyes don't leave the multicolored circle downrange.
"Girls are weird," he starts, knowing Robbie doesn't like it when people approach topics slowly.
"Hmm," Robbie says, meaning the boy should continue, while nocking another arrow with a barely audible snap.
"There's this girl at school. Kylie. She wears glasses and has a black backpack just like mine. Her mom braids her hair everyday."
Hold, pull, breathe, aim. Release. Thud.
"Mmm," Robbie's mouth almost twitches. The boy grins. That means he's caught Robbie's attention.
"So we were both on the monkey bars, hanging upside down, and I tried to grab her hand. That's what you do right? When you like a girl? At least, that's what I've always heard."
Hold, pull, breathe, pause.
"And do you know what she did to me?" The boy is caught up in his frustration, not realizing he interrupts until Robbie glances at him.
Let down. Two deep breaths.
"Sorry!" The boy squeaks, red faced.
Robbie's right shoulder lifts in a shrug. The boy presses his hands, left over right, tightly to his mouth, watching Robbie's careful control and practiced form.
Hold, pull, breathe. Aim. Release. Thud.
Steady brown eyes meet restless blue, prompting the boy to continue.
"Oh! She pushed me off! I fell on my head! It hurt a lot. I though I was gonna break it open or something. I scraped up my arm, too. I don't know what I did wrong. Don't girls like holding hands? Did she think I was gonna pull her off the monkey bars? It's so annoying!" He throws himself backwards, head hitting the table with a lout thump, arms spread eagle. When he hears the snap of the arrow being nocked, however, he props himself up on his elbows.
Hold, pull. Breathe. Aim. Release. Thud.
All five arrows cast shadows across the lower left quarter of the target, protruding from the innermost circle.
“Wow,” the boy gapes, “Fifty points!”
Robbie just shrugs, slips off the bow-sling, pockets the black finger tab, and sets the recurve bow gently on the stand.
Left hand on the target, right on an arrow, pulling straight back. Repeat four more times.
“What’re you gonna do now?” The boy watches everything Robbie does.
“I’m going to shoot again.”
This makes the boy pause. He looks down towards the target and can see holes all over the cover, mainly in the center, but a couple mar the outer white circles. Suddenly, he understands.
"Thanks Robbie! See you later!" The sound of his feet fade as sheRobbie walks back to the quiver and replaces the arrows.
Robbie smiles, slides on the finger tab, pics up the bow, and tightens the bow sling.
"Cute kid," she chuckles to herself, then holds the bow in front of her, pulls the string to her face, takes a deep breath, aims, and releases. Thud.
Anyway, I started another story today. It's about an archer. Because I love archery. And it was fun and quick to write.
Left hand out, right hand pulls, deep breath, pause, release. Tension leaves, then a soft thud.
"Hey Robbie," the boy greeted, hopping up on the picnic table, bright tennis shoes resting on the bench.
"Hmm," the archer responds, pulling another arrow from the ground quiver and nocking it.
Hold, pull, breathe, release. Thud. Robbie's eyes don't leave the multicolored circle downrange.
"Girls are weird," he starts, knowing Robbie doesn't like it when people approach topics slowly.
"Hmm," Robbie says, meaning the boy should continue, while nocking another arrow with a barely audible snap.
"There's this girl at school. Kylie. She wears glasses and has a black backpack just like mine. Her mom braids her hair everyday."
Hold, pull, breathe, aim. Release. Thud.
"Mmm," Robbie's mouth almost twitches. The boy grins. That means he's caught Robbie's attention.
"So we were both on the monkey bars, hanging upside down, and I tried to grab her hand. That's what you do right? When you like a girl? At least, that's what I've always heard."
Hold, pull, breathe, pause.
"And do you know what she did to me?" The boy is caught up in his frustration, not realizing he interrupts until Robbie glances at him.
Let down. Two deep breaths.
"Sorry!" The boy squeaks, red faced.
Robbie's right shoulder lifts in a shrug. The boy presses his hands, left over right, tightly to his mouth, watching Robbie's careful control and practiced form.
Hold, pull, breathe. Aim. Release. Thud.
Steady brown eyes meet restless blue, prompting the boy to continue.
"Oh! She pushed me off! I fell on my head! It hurt a lot. I though I was gonna break it open or something. I scraped up my arm, too. I don't know what I did wrong. Don't girls like holding hands? Did she think I was gonna pull her off the monkey bars? It's so annoying!" He throws himself backwards, head hitting the table with a lout thump, arms spread eagle. When he hears the snap of the arrow being nocked, however, he props himself up on his elbows.
Hold, pull. Breathe. Aim. Release. Thud.
All five arrows cast shadows across the lower left quarter of the target, protruding from the innermost circle.
“Wow,” the boy gapes, “Fifty points!”
Robbie just shrugs, slips off the bow-sling, pockets the black finger tab, and sets the recurve bow gently on the stand.
Left hand on the target, right on an arrow, pulling straight back. Repeat four more times.
“What’re you gonna do now?” The boy watches everything Robbie does.
“I’m going to shoot again.”
This makes the boy pause. He looks down towards the target and can see holes all over the cover, mainly in the center, but a couple mar the outer white circles. Suddenly, he understands.
"Thanks Robbie! See you later!" The sound of his feet fade as sheRobbie walks back to the quiver and replaces the arrows.
Robbie smiles, slides on the finger tab, pics up the bow, and tightens the bow sling.
"Cute kid," she chuckles to herself, then holds the bow in front of her, pulls the string to her face, takes a deep breath, aims, and releases. Thud.