I couldn’t find my book…A book went missing
I couldn’t find my book.
I needed to read it.
I looked on my nightstand. It wasn’t there.
I searched for it outside, thinking I might have left it on the patio.
I called my sister to see if she had borrowed it. But she said no.
I asked the kids but they had no idea where it could be.
I even checked the washroom to see if it was on the vanity counter. No luck.
Then my husband brought it in from the car. He said it was on the front seat.
Whew! though I have no recollection leaving it there.
The book was missing.
A favourite tale desired to be read.
The nightstand sat coated in a layer of dust. Alone, the the digital clock marked time.
Outside, the air was fresh, the sunkissed flowers swayed in the breeze as the patio lay vacant beckoning a dreamer.
A call to a sister was unsuccessful in the quest.
The children dallied about on the street, riding scooters and laughing at themselves, their minds elsewhere.
The washroom glistened after a good scrub yet nothing cluttered the granite top.
A knight in shining armour strolled in, a treasure in hand. Elated, a simple miscalculation was made as front car seat cradled an unknown gift.
A chaotic mind distracted in action.
peekiequeen Writing Challenge, copyright Friday, August 22, 2014
Writing Challenge: Part I: What was the last thing you cared about that you misplaced? Write about what happened, with as many sentences as possible in the active voice. (i.e. “I forgot my cell. I looked under the couch.”)
Part II: Rewrite the description from above in the passive voice whereby no one does anything. (“My cell was fogotten. Lint was the only thing that the couch had to offer.”)
From 642 Things to Write About by the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto.
Photo By Jack Hoo.