Happy Birthday Mareike

Happy Birthday Mareike! We miss you! Hope you have a great day! Love ya!

Exercise 4

For those of you who can't see my blog here is one assignment from my creative writing course

Using a first 'given' line to being a story. One page in length. You don't need to worry about my mental stability, I assure you. This one may seem a bit grim, but hey...I have one page to capture your attention so I gotta 'go big or go home', right?
The given line is: If I went there a second time (dot, dot, dot)

If I went there a second time, Michael would not have noticed Jenny in the white lace western dress, hair swaying with each flirtatious giggle. Instead I left in a hurry, tripping over my boots while explaining to Michael why my girlfriend's hair dying disaster needed my immediate intervention. I left, promising to return in time to learn the 2-step, and glanced back only to notice Michael's disappointed stare. I never returned.

If I had gone there a second time, Jenny would not have sauntered towards lonely and partner-less Michael offering her hand and country-swing skills. She wouldn't have coddled up so closely to him.

If I had gone there a second time, I would have realized that fifteen years of friendship was more than just discussing classic cars while scarfing down junk food; it was consoling him after the abandonment of his mother and abuse of his father; it was sneaking in his window in the middle of night to laugh about the tack we conspiratorially stuck on Mr. Flemson's chair.

As I bit my lip, I watched Michael caress the back of Jenny's neck during the rehearsal dinner. Her eyes fluttered in response to his touch - my heart sunk. Stabbing a sautéed mushroom I took a bite. Each time I pierced a piece of food my breathing increased in speed. I repeatedly sawed my teeth over the wound in my lip, felt the blood slide down my throat. Ignoring the congratulatory toasts and 'oohing and aahing', I formulated a plan, devious, deceptive and cleverly insane. Later I would scribble the details out on paper, then burn them. One can't be too careful when plotting murder, especially when it's your sister.