Day Thirteen

(For more information on my 'April Challenge' see HERE)

(In case you don't see it, this is a picture of Edinburgh on a very grey day. It is not like that today or often. And I know this April Challenge is predicated on fun so I apologise in advance for the 'misery' below.)

(61)THERE’S NO ROMANCE IN A MISTY DAY

A grey wet mist hangs over the city today. The streets drip and everywhere the stone is like silver that has lost its shine. Bobby walks into the mist or out of it. He feels alone in this place he calls home. His feet make no music where he walks.

(62)MISERY

Misery loves its own company. That’s what Amelia told him. He wasn’t sure what she meant. They’d been drinking and words sometimes came out of their mouths with no meaning. She slipped her hand in his and they stepped out, only to find that the sky had fallen on them.

(63)THE BATTLECRY OF WEATHERMEN

There’s no such thing as bad weather. That’s what they say. Just bad clothing. It was someone famous who said it first and now it is the battlecry of weathermen on wet days. Try Edinburgh when its grey and the streets all dripping and smeared and voices and song smothered.

(64)GIVE EDINBURGH BACK TO THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE THERE

It’s Edinburgh, isn’t it? The High Street. At the bottom looking up. And behind the mist the castle hides, somewhere. And there used to be singing here and players juggling balls and women in pretty dresses talking in different tongues. And today it is grey and empty and ours again.

(65)ALL SNAP AND NO CRACKLE OR POP

He hates these short soundbites of writing. There's no story in 'em, he says. Just a captured middle-moment, no beginning and no end. He wants more for his fifty words. Wants Proust and Dostoevsky and Dickens. It's a grey day when a man cannot read poetry for its own sake.

(And, by the by, readers should remember that the title is not part of the fifty word count and so can be used to give a little extra context to what is written or a little more bang!)