Monday morning walks and bubbling ideas...

There are so many writing competitions and prompts around at the moment it's becoming impossible to do everything.

But then something comes along that sets off a spark, ideas flow, the fire is fanned and hey presto you've written something!

Monday morning is my usual day for a walk with friends and the conversations today stirred a million new ideas but it was when I got home and found this new competition that everything clicked into place...

Wanted: Outlaw Poets 

What: Prose poems of 150 – 250 words

When: October 8th – October 21st 

Theme: Horror/Suspense or Uncanny Nature

Now I don't usually write Horror stories but a story of an uncanny nature? Maybe I could get my brain in gear for such a tale. Plus the clue is in the title POEM WALK.

I could write a poem about our walk this morning, embelished everso slightly just to fit the theme!

This is probably my first attempt at a prose poem, don't remember ever writing one before, at least not deliberately. I think I have kind of followed the rules and if not I don't care, writing it was so much fun, which at the end of the day is the point isn't it?

Many thanks to @bullishink and @dustyjournal for setting this latest writing challenge.

Now do you dare come walking with me?  Would you like to join...

The Monday Morning Walking Club

 

Misty Monday morning walk. Muted footsteps, laughing lips. Seven days’ worth of gossip to catch up on.

Benny darting this way, that way. All of us set free for fun. Exercising, forward striding with aims to stretch our midlife muscles.  A cup of tea and scone await, our well deserved reward!

A muddy path beside the river meanders to an open field. What’s that growing? We draw closer. The spiders have been out to play, we marvel at their woven flowers, catching snippets of the weak October sun.

They’re everywhere we quickly realise, webs surrounding every bloom. Lacy petals speckled with diamond dewdrops.

Where’s the traffic noise? Says Rachel, the road is only over there.

We listen to the deathly silence.

Where’s the dog? No longer under our feet banging our shins with the stick he carries.

The fog seems to be closing tighter. A faint clicking sound grows ever louder, spiders knitting, clacking needles.

Our chattering has stopped, sentences entangled in the ether. Will we ever find out the end of the story?

I look around, my friends all vanished. Left alone my fear spirals. A blanket of sticky web slowly envelops me. Muscles tighten, pulled and stretched beyond their natural limits.

Swallowed by mist, our walk today is done. It’s time for the mid-morning snack!

(217words - not including title)

I wish I had taken a photo of the spider's webs, we really were surrounded and I can't find a picture on google to compare with our eerie discovery.

Names haven't been changed in this story to protect the innocent but concidering our other conversations you got away very lightly Rachel and it is a direct quote.

And Benny the dog, you are named and shamed for giving my that sloppy wet kiss this morning - YUCK!