I was driving home yesterday and saw a red gate amongst dozens of brown ones, and it got me thinking it would make a great story opener.
The whole village was abuzz. A new scandal was in progress. This one was more exciting than the time Mrs. Foyle had accidentally hung her knickers to dry in the front garden. Patrick had painted his gate in red gloss paint. Everyone had come out to see it with their own eyes.
“He might as well plant pampas grass by the front door with a sign saying he keeps his keys in a bowl,” Gerry murmured on his way past the monstrosity. Gerry and Kerry had a decent black gate and he repainted it once a year, whether it needed it or not.
“It’s a bit… sudden, isn’t it?” Martin raised a brow at the gate while Mrs. Foyle took it in through her cataracts.
“Oh, dear Lord!” she uttered at last, crossing herself for good measure. Martin’s gate was brown, as was Mrs. Foyle’s. No-one knew her first name. Even Rowan, the postman hadn’t seen it on her scant letters. His gate was brown, of course.
Most of them were. Sure, they were all different shades like “light oak” or “forest pine” but they all looked the same at midnight. Closed, for a start.
“I don’t see what the fuss is about.” Noreen liked to think she was a red-gate person but in reality hers was the orangey-brown of B and Q’s cheapest wood paint, haphazardly splattered on cracked, rain-softened spruce.
“He could be a flamenco dancer?” Noreen’s sister (medium walnut) suggested as she checked her messages again.
The man himself came out and the sisters straightened up. Slouching was far worse than gossiping or judging.
“Like it? I found half a tin in the shed. Must’ve belonged to the previous owner.” He nodded to the gate and grinned before disappearing.
Noreen fixed her sister with a Look.
“Hear that? He’s not a flamenco dancer, Eileen, he’s just a man who’s too cheap to buy a can of paint.”
“Aye, but he’s also a man with no qualms about living in a house with a glossy red gate.”
Noreen elbowed her younger sister. “Wise up, you’re inventing a lot of shite about a man who’s only been here two weeks.”
Eileen held her hands up. “I’m telling you, Nor, he’s not going to fit in.”
So this week’s prompt is gate. Is it a physical gate, a gateway (e.g. Perth calls itself the gateway to the Highlands), a gatekeeper? Bill Gates? A stretch but sure. After all there’s no “too out there” in creativity!
Here’s how to take part:
- Write a post, including your 100-word response to the challenge, any words of explanation or inspiration you wish to share, and a link to this challenge page.
- Comment on this post with a link to your page so others can see your contribution.
- That’s it! Super easy.
- If you don’t want to write a blog post, or you don’t have a blog, feel free to write your 100 words in the comments of this challenge!
This challenge will stay open for one week, then next Thursday, I will post the next challenge!
Sorry I missed a few weeks, I had a baby and my scheduled posts ran out!