Here are the first four entries for the Sanctified Scribblers Writing Club (name might change if anyone thinks up a better one). I hope this serves two purposes, giving potential writers a better idea of what we are about, and perhaps motivate those who are unsure of joining, to jump on board.
As I receive more entries I will add them as comments to this post. Happy Writing!
~ The Moderator ~
I knocked on the door of the weather-beaten cabin. After a second knock and hearing no sounds from inside, I pulled on the latch string. The old, oak door creaked as I pushed it open. I peered into the gloom and was delighted to find a cozy place for rest. In the center of the cabin, there stood a black, gleaming cookstove with firewood and kindling stacked neatly beside it. A fluffy, feather bed with an antique quilt draped across it was in the corner off to the left of the stove. As I glanced to my right, I could see a golden claw-foot table set for two. As I made my way to the back of the cabin, a small door opened onto a quiet deck waiting patiently for someone to take a seat in the oversized rocker made of ash. I bowed my head and gave thanks to my loving heavenly Father's provision of this quiet, peaceful haven to spend the weekend in solitude and seek direction for my future. - Mrs. Donna J.
ReplyDeleteShe enjoyed it here in her private sanctuary, the quiet escape where she spent most of her days in peaceful solitude. She loved the warm sunshine on her skin pouring through the wide skylights above, the smell of her books, the rough yet comfortable brush of the carpet between her toes. Humming contentedly she drifted around the room, running her hands along the spines of her books, tenderly caressing each as a beloved old friend. She felt the subtle, almost imperceptible change in warmth as she moved from light into shade. As she settled into her reading chair she recalled fondly the day her father had given her the chair, it was a day she remembered so often the memory almost seemed worn. "There is no better place in all the world," she thought as she picked up her bible, closed her eyes and began to read, her small fingers delicately brushing over the familiar page. "No better place indeed." - Mr. Derek J.
ReplyDeleteAs I entered the small Crowley home, I was overwhelmed by the stench and filth therein. How could human beings live in such a place as this? My mother had warned me that it would be very shabby, dark, and dirtier than anything I had ever seen. But this? The structure itself may have once been fairly decent, but had since broken down from lack of care. The floor, covered with dirt and trash, looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in years. What the unsavory smell was, I did not know, nor did I ask. There were but three pieces of furniture - a table, one small chair, and the bed, where Mrs. Crowley lay. This poor woman, recently widowed and mother of six, was very ill and in need of much nursing. This was the errand upon which I'd come: to help this family in need of so much. - Miss Deborah J.
ReplyDeleteWhen I finally woke, washed ashore, as it were, by one last gentle wave, I lay still for a long time, savoring that half-submerged state between waking and opening one's eyes. It was very quiet. My eyelids began to flicker after a while, and I gradually allowed my surroundings to grow solid.
ReplyDeleteI was lying in a bed covered with white sheets and one white blanket. The bed stood in a large, pale green room full of afternoon sunlight, but filtered and muted by yellow curtains. One window, on the same wall as the bed, was left clear, though, and through it I could just catch the myriad tossing of green leaves. The air was just stirred, like water weeds swaying, and looking above me I saw a ceiling fan slowly turning. A few noises penetrated to this sanctuary from somewhere else, but they were so indistinct that they built the stillness rather than broke it. This dreamy atmosphere took hold of me like the foamy tide, rush on rush returning, and I slept again. - Miss Leah B.