Wordzzle Daze Are Here Again

OK - so it seems like every week I promise myself that this week I will definately, without any excuses, write a pome for Total Feckin Eejit's Poetry Bus or promise that I will have a go on the Wordzzle set by Raven - and every week time seems to slip away from me and I find that I haven't done anything about either.

So - having yet again failed to get around to writing any of my ideas down and, you know, actually preparing anything it is my intention to just throw my arms up in the air this week and go "oh what the hell - i'll just make something up as i go along".

Which, as usual, is not entirely true - because I do sort of have an idea and I hope it works

As you may know if you've played or read before - each week Raven sets a series of words and you have to encorporate them in some way, shape or form into your story

The words for the challenge are (10 words) sharp, dump truck, charcoal, traffic light, digestive system, argumentative, fireflies, chocolate, volume, options.

For the mini: parameters, shoplifting, adoption, threats, lemonade.

For the mega - all fifteen words

I think this week I will go for the 10 word challenge. This may, or may not, develop into something more...

Sleeper

He turned down the volume on the stereo and pressed his ear closer to the wall. They were paper-thin in these old council houses, so brittle that a good sneeze could bring them down. From the other side he could he could hear them arguing again: screaming blue murder

He took a gulp from the tumbler and winced at the sharp taste of ginger. Sadie said the stuff was good for his digestive system, but the taste always made him long for gut-rot instead.

She was opening the door now, calling him to come and help with the shopping. He ignored her for a second.

'Mark?' She called the name again and this time he turned, trying to hide the annoyance in his eye: none of this was her fault. Five fucking years of listening to shouting from next door, making inane conversation. He was aware the long day was making him argumentative, so he pushed down the anger and forced a hollow smile as he took the first of the bags off her

'How was your day?' he asked

Sophie began a litany of complaints, her thoughts jumping from topic to topic like fireflies. He nodded in all the right places, trying to dissiminate the information. Most of it was stuff he had heard before: none of it useful.

She kissed him lightly on the lips, the taste of chocolate on her tongue. It was amazing how little effort he had to put in these days to make the passion believable.

She was telling him about the evening ahead. There was a leaving-do tonight, staff only. It was a relief in many ways, though it would have been a useful opportunity.

She moved to the cupboard, going through her options of outfits and he took the opportunity to slip the small box deep into her bag where she would never find it, then he swallowed a couple of charcoal pills to quell the uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

Finally she was ready to leave and he paused at the door, kissing her again lightly: feeling nothing. There was a dump-truck across the road, sat at the traffic light and as Sophie climbed into the small car and drove off he nodded at the driver and locked the door, watching from the window as the truck pulled out behind her: following her just out of sight