Setting the Scene - WritersInk WorkshopPassive DescriptionSetting the Scene - WritersInk Workshop by Faraleigh
The room was filled with shadows thanks to the curtains of gaudy orange fabric being drawn and the breakers having been turned off the better part of an hour ago. Every bit of furniture had been shoved to the walls, their places taken by a broad circle of salt. Within its perimeter sat a simple wire cage, the hummingbird inside sipping contently on its complimentary nectar, a glass with some unidentifiable green beverage lurking inside, a parti-colored handkerchief, and a pair of cheap new sneakers. A timer beeped innocently in the kitchen and soon the final element was ready: cookies that had somehow come out smelling like a woman’s perfume.
Ann hesitated before crossing the threshold into Mrs. Thompson’s darkened living room. Breathing slowly to keep her nerves in check, she took a final pass around the perimeter. She made sure each piece of relocated furniture along the walls was back far enough and that the gaudy oran
Dear JimDear Jim,Dear Jim by Faraleigh
It is the eve of moving day, and as I cleared my shelves of your books I couldn’t help but be swept away by nostalgia.
It was 2002 that I first met you. I was scouring the shelves of an outlet bookstore for anything that might tickle my fancy when I happened upon Fool Moon. While the bloody paw print and broken window of that original cover enticed me, I confess the back cover was less than inspiring. Still, I bought it along with others I now no longer remember using my meager high school funds. As my mom drove us home, more than an hour away, I devoured that book. Even upon our arrival I didn’t set it down, making straight for the couch. I was more than a hundred pages in by the time I had to stop, and I finished the next day.
It was the beginning of a riotous love affair that changed my life.
I lauded the wonders of The Dresden Files and proudly called them my favorite books. I eagerly awaited every new installment, pilgrimaging to Ellensburg to g
My Oldest FriendIt is 1985. I am born into anonymity. I am but one of a myriad, my siblings and I indiscernible in appearance and fate. There is no love here. There is only a mechanical numbness that combats the hours and the solemn acceptance of needing to earn a living.My Oldest Friend by Faraleigh
It is 1986. I am on a shelf under the glare of fluorescent lights. I look the best I ever will. The excited and obligated parade past, claiming those around me with their hard-earned incomes. Easter approaches. I am chosen at random. I am in the right place at the right time.
I am home for the first time. It is loud, chaotic, and perfect. It is March 30th and I am given to a little girl. She is seven months old. This is her first Easter and I am her first friend. We are inseparable.
She is asleep. I lie beside her and watch over her, protecting her from the dark unknown. Her fingers twine around my arms for the first time. She is protecting me, too. As long as she holds on, the darkness cannot take me away.
It is her first day of pre
Life AfterI’m unexpectedly rested when I awaken. I’d anticipated lawn care waking me up, but they evidently didn’t come today—at least not yet. Maybe they’re running late, or maybe the weather’s no good for them. While I’m glad for the sleep, this only means they’ll come later. Hopefully I’ll be at work by then.Life After by Faraleigh
My alarm hasn’t gone off yet either. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep longer. Grabbing my phone, I flip it open to check the time. It’s dead, though, and I chastise myself for forgetting to plug it in last night. I correct the oversight and am unable to ignore my internal clock. It’s time to get up.
Closing the doors of the bathroom, I hit the light switch. Nothing happens. It takes me a moment of standing in the dark to try it a few more times. Still nothing. They must be doing electrical work on the building. Nice of the office to warn us.
I go put on my glasses, fetch some candles from my room, and head to the li