I’ve chosen an exercise I missed before I discovered Write on Wednesday. And this week a timed piece was very appealing. The exercise is to choose the 8th book on your bookshelf, turn to the 8th page and scroll down to the 8th sentence. Write the sentence on the top of your page and write for 5 minutes.
The 8th book on my bookshelf was Margaret Atwood’s The Year of The Flood – a wonderful book,which I hope is in no way a prophetic glimpse into our future. Not pretty, but disturbingly believable.
I wasn’t that worried. Still, they check everything.
The customs officer was lifting up my carefully packed clothes, rolled as tightly as my nerves.. He kept glancing up at me. I held his eye, but was it too much? I was worried my smile had the rictus of a death mask. I wiped the sweat of my clammy palms against the tails of my flowing scarf. Silk, orange, picked up in the Old Quarter of Hanoi. He unzipped my toiletry bag.
‘Are people always this nervous? I’m feeling guilty just standing here..’
He paused from his inspection of my Estee Lauder night serum, ‘Not usually, no.’
‘I’ve got some rocks.’
‘Yes, limestone, from Halong Bay. Have you been there?’
His momentary flash of interest quickly waned. ‘I don’t even get to see Botany Bloody Bay.’ He dropped my little brown bottle of serum into my toiletry bag. ‘Did you wash the rocks? Thoroughly?’ He was already pushing my case along the bench, looking down the queue for more likely offenders.
‘Oh, yes,’ my hand brushing against his. ‘Thoroughly.’
I eased my case and it’s carefully laundered and concealed cache of diamonds away, my jaw finally releasing it’s clenched grin.
Write on Wednesday is the brainchild of Gill at inkpaperpen blogspot.
Head over there to see what the other WoWers have written this week.