f-s-gruffydd
F. S. Gruffydd
Artist & Aspiring Author
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Safety
Early morning light filtered through rustling leaves, and dew sparkled like stars on every blade of grass. Three young men sat on the slope of the riverbank, cool earth between their toes, watching the water make its lazy journey west. Their breath came in soft puffs of fog, joining the steam from their tin mugs. No one spoke, but the silence was not suffocating, as it had been in the city. They were happy in simple company, letting their worries drift away with the current. Beside them were two large dogs with chests rising and falling in tandem, peacefully asleep.
Ari, the eldest man – tall and strong with a ruddy brown beard - finally stood. At the movement, the dogs got to their feet and stretched. Their tails wagged gently as they watched their master, waiting for guidance. He moved towards the tents, and his hounds padded after him. By the river, Henry tossed a stone into the water. He had skin like gidgee wood and eyes bright as green agate. The stone disappeared into the water with a plop and sent ripples cascading across the surface, but soon the ripples faded and it was if the river had never been disturbed. The third man, John, pale and delicate, watched him as he picked up a second stone, and John thought that he was beautiful. He took Henry’s hand in his own and they shared a tender glance. A lifetime ago he’d have been afraid to. Here they were safe.
Ari returned with a blood red apple between his teeth, and the ham radio under his arm. He sat back down beside them and switched it on. It whirred and crackled to life. They listened together to the familiar stern voice reciting the same facts that they’d heard every morning for the past couple of weeks; “-ay inside. Do not attempt to leave your shelter unless instructed by local emergency or military personnel. Stay tuned for more information… Attention! Attention! This is an automated emergency broadca-“
He placed the radio in his lap and sighed, navigating between stations that were just walls of white noise. A flock of black cockatoos screamed raucously from the highest branches of a large tree across the river. They flapped and chattered excitedly, dropping half-chewed gumnuts into the water. The birds continued on with their lives, none the wiser to the destruction that had scoured the country. John felt a pang of envy at the thought. From here, they could not hear the bombs bursting into fire and rubble in the cities. They could not see the burning city’s light on the horizon at night, but they knew it was there. They’d been lucky to escape with each other. They didn’t know where their friends and family had gone, but the three men were together and they were safe, far away from what was left of the city.
Crrzzk! The radio fizzled into tune, “- hear me? We’re located a- … -aiting for evacuation. Th-… -even of us. Is anyone there?”
They stared at the machine gripped in Ari’s trembling hands. Henry leapt for the microphone.
F. S. Gruffydd
18/03/2018
Creative writing assignment, revised after tutor’s feedback.
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The Alchemist
Paulo Coelho
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Exercise 1 - First Line Prompt
25/02/2018
“He hadn’t meant to scare the child.”
Prompt from http://writingexercises.co.uk
He hadn't meant to scare the child.
She covered her eyes with her hands and blubbered, harsh sobs causing her shoulders to shake. She seemed so small cowering against the wall, blanketed in the shadow of the man looming over her. He tightened his coat around his shoulders.
‘I am sorry,’ he said, but the child didn't seem to hear him. He secured his mask to his face once more and sat down beside her, a long, slow movement. ‘I may look strange, but you should not be afraid.’ He was very quiet, but she could hear him as though he were speaking to a crowd. He had a low, smooth voice. It made her think of the forest near her house. She sniffled and cautiously glanced towards him through the gaps between her fingers. With his mask returned he didn't seem so frightening.
‘You're a monster,’ she said, her voice soft and dry from crying.
‘Yes, but that is no reason to cry.’
The child swallowed a deep breath of air, before finally saying, ‘okay.’
He got to his feet and pulled a golden pocket watch from the inside of his jacket. He gazed at the clock for a moment before he replaced it and hunched down, reaching a hand towards her. ‘Come.’
She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet, then began to lead her down the hall. She was intimidated by the stark whiteness and fluorescent lighting. Her bare feet were cold against the tiles. She'd always hated hospitals. She looked up at the man towering above her, tall enough that he had to stoop his neck to fit inside the hall.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
A pause. ‘I am asked that quite often,’ he said, as if to himself, but he gave no further answer and just continued to lead her by the hand.
They seemed to be walking for miles, the hallway stretching on for a surreal length of time. The doors all looked the same, and she'd lost track of the numbers on the plaques beside each one. She could hear the tick of the man’s watch in his coat. It seemed louder than it should, given it was buried beneath layers of fabric, but it gave her a welcome constant.
‘Where are we going?’ She asked.
‘You will see. They are waiting for you, and they have missed you dearly.’
She bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow in thought. There wasn't really anyone she could think of that would be excited to see her. She wasn't getting any real answers from this man, and it was very frustrating.
He looked down at her and sighed. A long deep sound, like wind blowing through a hollow tree. ‘Everything will be okay.’
She had nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do but trust him, but she felt a knot in her stomach, and she looked up at his mask, a long, bleached length of bark with thin slits for eyes. She couldn't see beneath the mask, even from such a low angle. All she could see was a strange shadow, that didn't seem to fit the lights surrounding them. Even now, she couldn't quite remember his face. Her memory was like a dream, quickly fading, only flickers of ideas remaining. She focused her attention on the hem of her dull blue gown. It was far too big and the material was scratchy. She felt a heavy pressure building in her chest. They had stopped walking, and she looked up at the door in front of them. It looked just the same as the others. The ticking of the watch had stopped. A cold silence radiated through the hall, she couldn’t even hear the sound of her own breath.
‘Here we are,’ the man said, and he adjusted his mask and brushed twig-like fingers over his clothes, straightening out the creases, as if he were about to go to an interview.
‘Your parents are just on the other side.’
She frowned, staring at the doorknob. A memory itching at the back of her mind, trying to crawl its way back up. The man twisted the handle and the door opened in silence. The room inside was dark and she could see no further than the threshold. She remembered.
‘My parents are dead.’
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F.S.Gruffydd
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