I wanted to share something a bit different with you today.

As you know, a reason I set up this blog and named it “Emerging” Chook, is that I have found a love in writing. Whether it is about mum, grief, things that give me the shits (AKA Tuesday Turds), recipes or just book reviews.  My writing has really helped me in emerging from some dark places. It has bought me comfort, relief and enjoyment.

I have also hinted that I’m writing a book. It’s early stages and I’m just plugging away to see where it takes me. This year I have enrolled to do the Manuscript Incubator through the SA Writers Centre.  I’ve realised that I need to invest some considerable time and cash to ensure that I can produce a great piece of work. The Incubator is a series of workshops and face-to-face group meeting throughout the duration of this year. With every thing from “Beginnings & Endings”, reviewing, critiquing, plotting, character building, right through to what you do when your manuscript is finished. It sounds pretty intense!

Here is the link to their page. They has heaps of great workshops and info there. https://sawriters.org.au/


Writing doesn’t come naturally to me, not much does.  I often have to sit and ponder something for a while and nut it out in my head before I sit down and write it. This goes for all my creative work, whether its my art or photography.  Throughout the month of February, as part of my course we have been given daily “inspiration prompts” to write about. A prompt that will make us think outside our normal genre and comfort zones. Try different writing styles and create new characters. Today I wanted to share my creative writing piece with you, and what my take was on the prompt.



The prompt – “I dare you to follow me in.” She said.

He said nothing but did as she asked. He stepped into a room of four plain walls and bare wooden floorboards lit by a single bulb.
“Very brave.” She said. “But the story starts when you leave.”

She was standing leaning against the plain wall, in the corner; staring at him intently, urging him to follow her in. She looked so tiny and frail standing there. Her jeans were ripped and torn and had blood soaking out from a gash on her left leg. Her right ankle was twisted out at an unimaginable angle with a bone protruding out through her sock.  Her red and blue checked shirt was un-tucked and disheveled, so unlike her normal prim and proper look. The wires and tubes they had used in the Emergency room were still attached to her and were hanging, tangled from her chest. Her golden blonde hair was still pulled up into a messy bun and held in place with a blue pen. The diamond in her nose piecing was glistening from the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Her top lip was swollen and cut and the gap where her front tooth was, has blood dripping from it and is running down her chin. Her eyes are still the bluest of blue.

He was standing in the door way. The room was so bright and light and white. He was brave. She just told him he was brave. She didn’t tell him that it was his fault that he was the one that caused the accident. His fault that they had both been seriously injured. His fault that she had died. He stood there looking at her, feeling brave. He didn’t feel the pain any more. They were going to be ok, they were still together, battered and bruised but still together; in this bright, light room. He had been driving too fast when he lost control going around a sharp bend. When he over corrected, he swerved across the road and over an embankment where the car had flipped several times until it came to a stop at the bottom of the ditch. He remembers telling her that he loved her and holding her hand. He remembers that her breathing was shallow and rattly and that her eyes were closed. He remembers that he couldn’t feel his legs, that he was trapped inside the car.

“I don’t want to leave you here in this room. I don’t understand why you said that?” he spoke to her across the room. “You dared me to follow you in, and I did. And now you are telling me that I’m leaving?”

“I have been chosen to be here, to move into my next life. This is heaven. I dared you to come in so that you can see that I am OK. To tell you that I don’t blame you. But you are not ready to be here yet. You have many things to do in life. I dared you to step into this room, so that I could say one last goodbye to you.”

“No”, he whispered to her.

“Your place is on Earth. You will be brave and have courage; and you will recover from your injuries. You have your calling and your purpose. I will be your guiding light. I will watch over you from the moon. And when the moon is at its brightest, that is when I will be the closest to you.”

He reached out to her, he wanted to touch her one last time, hold her hand and never let go. “No. I want to stay with you.”

“It’s time for you to go,” she whispered; and she disappeared.

He was pulled back out the door. Into the darkness, where there were no walls, no bright, no light. Just muffling noises and beeping.

“We have him back,” the ER doctor called out to her team. “Let’s get him prepped for surgery, he has a long road ahead of him.”


If you were to write a book, what would it be about? I’d love you to share. I’d also love any feedback you may have on this little piece too. xx




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