Writing for Practice

I haven’t been working on short story writing, so to keep up practice, I have gone back to writing in long hand in my writing journals and doing timed writing. I’m reading Natalie Goldberg’s book on writing, Wild Mind. I had read Writing Down the Bones about a year ago. I enjoyed it. I thought I would give this one a go. I finished, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and now I am reading Night, by Elie Wiesel.

This is my latest from a ten minute writing exercise:

Straight in her head.

A came before B, and 1 came before 2, but did A come before 1 or 2; or did it equal to two or did numbers and letters add up?
It gave her a headache.
She stood on the bright linoleum between the eggs and dairy. She had difficulties keeping things straight in her head.
A came before B, and 1 came before 2, but did A come before 1 or 2 or did it equal up to 2, or did numbers and letters even add up?
It gave her a headache.
Darren had told her what he had wanted her to buy at the store, but he had said, one was more important than the other.
what was it?
Was it the eggs or the butter?
Write it down, he had said, and she did, but she forgot the note.
As usual, Darren would say.
She was getting worse and worse. Soon she would forget her favorite color, her fingernails, her name, her face, the dog she had when she was five and the neighbor man who shot him. She would forget how to walk, how to see, how to listen.
You already don’t know how to listen, Darren had said, like her father, like the neighbor, like the woman in her bed sitting naked a top her husband.
She’ll forget because Darren told her too.
Told her just forget she saw anything.
She was crazy. She was crazy and soon she’d forget that too.
In the darkness, in her forgetful silence, once she falls asleep, she’ll awake and never remember.
Never remember she dropped the eggs and watched as the shell shattered, and the yolk spread yellow like a blood, into the isles.
There was no sound but the tiniest chirp of something never born.

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