Writing
My course book tells me I should be writing every day. So I’ll share some of the exercises on here. Well I mean my outputs from the exercises, not the exercises themselves (I’m not allowed to). I’m going backwards with this a bit so bare with me please.
Mary was filled with sorrow. John’s picture was on the front cover of the local newspaper, she’d almost dropped her mug of coffee when she’d seen his smiling face staring back at her. John was dead. He’d been knocked down and killed by a speeding car last Wednesday. It had been a day of such joy, she can still remember picking out her favourite blue skirt, the one with little bows on. If the heel on her shoe hadn’t broken, Mary was sure she would be with John now. Instead, she was staring at his picture wishing she could still be with him.
