Wolf Food is Born!


Welcome to the brand new blog!
Here is the record of our first meeting of 2010.

The Meeting:
No.1 Wednesday, 27th January 2010

The People:
Adi, Anna, Chris, Berengere, Bobby, Helene, Jane, Maria, Tamsin

The Writing:

5-words-each stories!
After choosing a subject, each writer penned five words to begin a story before passing their paper on for the next person to continue with five more (hopefully) well-chosen words.


'Bobby Cheung'

The pigeon is so depressed, his wife has left him for the buzzard flying high. He walked on the city. He didn’t care about it because he is The Bobby Cheung! – “I need no pigeon-woman, man!!” He shouted madly, “I don’t need any bird!”

'Moonshine'

Windows reflecting shadows in a dream, a milky white on the darkness of my thick duvet, dancing on the feathers while darkness, darkness, darkness, darkness, darkness falls all around me. I shut my eyes and wait. My eyes were twitching so I set fire to everything.

'Indigestion'

The table was laid bare, thick smoke hung in the air. I couldn’t breath. I am dying from so much oxygen around me. Flowers dropped their petals sadly and all around seems so dim, like my memory. Open your mouth and vomit.

'Bear'

The bear makes beautiful melody with his flat paws on the shimmering, frozen lake of katmandu. He dances his bear-dance but he sings so awful, said the fish who are deaf. To the sound of whales winging and the Gul dying from their too beautiful songs.

'Fish'

He tried to escape from it’s big smelly mouth. It’s full of dirty teeth and bits of rice. Sushi is not my favourite. I want to barbeque that fish. The fish felt very painful in a plastic bag at the fair. Dead before we got home.

'Coffee'

Holding his cup, he drank. Pulling his pants, he peed. Ah, or so he thought! Through the fence, a face watching him and judging him every day. Who are you, what are you? I’m a bug, you wet my house! The coffee could have been an interesting subject for this.

'Hill'

The place where I sit, looking out on the world. The world is so peaceful. Until someone dropped a bomb. A feather floating over water, falling on a stone cover. Draw peace with your breath. Because it’s your last, kid.

'Hair'

Long hair with nuts and spiders is all I remember about that particular Halloween costume. My friends had laughed and said ‘ha ha ha, you loser.’ Her reply: ‘oh how original.’ A dress of glittering stars to hide the hideousness of our world.

'Ladybird'

There was a feathered ladybird, spotted black and sadly crawling, flying for her freedom into the space. Say hello to spaceman, say hello to stars. Fly. But why the feathers – weird. Certainly is strange. I wonder… her mother was an ostrich? No! I am a FEATHERED LADYBIRD.



The 3-sentences-each stories!
The subjects of the stories were objects we'd brought along, the limit was 3 sentences each... (ish)
Below is just a couple of the finished pieces.

I am ‘CLOCKMAN’! I like to tell TIME. Morning and night. That is my job! I have no legs and arms but only feet. When I ring, I run, you must chase after. Hope you are not a heavy sleeper, I want you too like me. We can be friends, I know we can, I’ll help you if you love me… But be careful, don’t hurt me, I’m very jealous and possessive. If you want to be another Clockman, I might change you. If you really love me and love my sound. But can you give me your two warm hands and ten thin fingers? Then I can hold you. Then I can fill inside my body with something warm. I don’t want to be another clockman. You are evil when you try to stop time. I don’t want to stop time, even when it is running out. If you have time for everything, why would I need a clock? I need you, but I don’t want to be you. I’m also thinking – how could you ever respect a replica of yourself? I need a plan, if you’re to be my Clockman… then I will be something that you cannot be without - space. I formulate a plan, a wild plan, a plan that could go horribly and irreversibly wrong. I will live my life backwards. Day will be night and night time day until you follow me and change your time for mine.



It’s rusty heart eventually stopped. I grabbed it in my hand and its one long thin pin stung my palm. And it started beating. But the beating wasn’t regular. Something was wrong… The blood that dripped from my hand mixed into the rusty heart’s blood… What’s this? Boom… Boom… Boom… A new beat has started, a different one. And Then, slowly, the cogs started turning. Anticlockwise – this was the surprise. Nonetheless I was glad that the old one had died. Whatever this was, it was different. I felt a kind of hope flood through me, the piece became hot, hot, hotter in my hand until suddenly it burst into flames and I dropped it though my hand was not burnt. I picked it up again and I began to wonder what is this machine? This time, I felt different than last time. On the floor, the clock began to draw the dust to itself, I stood back and watched as it began to grow… gathering strength, the beat got faster, louder. My hands began to tremble and I spoke the words – “why are you doing this to me? I just wanted to help you, give you a new start, please listen to me.”

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