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Winter 1978, England
Posted: 30 June 2003
Word Count: 94
Summary: Inspired by other's attempts I thought I would have another go at this exercise; capturing feelings from a time that I don't specially like to think back to when my family first came to England.
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Moulded panes from nightly condensation, the windows drip and shudder. Outside the cold encircles and reaches in. Wrapped up I hug the blankets closer, covers pulled tighter and tighter still. But the coldness seems trapped and clutches at my toes.
Muffled sadness carries through the house in hesitant tones.
Eyes and hands watch and wait. I have checked twice already and am almost sure there is nothing there. But then what is it that hides beneath the bed ready to grab your feet if you step too close? This place is strange to me.
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Comments by other Members
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 Anna Reynolds at 23:17 on 30 June 2003
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Mmm, getting poetic here. That last line is devastating. I think the contrast from your last go at this is interesting- obviously the hot/cold theme is emerging, but also in this piece you've brought in the 'muffled sadness' which implies to me a slightly older child who is picking up a different set of emotions, more sophisticated and subtle. Hold onto that last line though- there's a world of nuance in there.
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 Bee at 09:24 on 02 July 2003
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I really liked this. I most certainly had an idea of a place and time - I found this very gripping and descriptive!
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LONGJON at 21:55 on 02 July 2003
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Hello,
What a lovely piece, a sense of layering from outside to inside the room, inside the bed, inside your head. This piece draws the reader on, holds attention and insists they remain to the end. Good on you, keep punching those keys.
John P.
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Jabulani at 10:31 on 03 July 2003
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Thank you John,
It's fantastically exciting to receive such encouragement.
Laura
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