Many workplaces have a Deborah. Her currency is lies and innuendo. She’s a lunchtime gossip, a whisperer in corridors. She exploits minor jealousies and foments discontent. Hers is a realm built on divide and rule where her subjects eye each other with learned mistrust.
She’s not intelligent, but she’s sharp; quick to recognise opportunity. Her smiles are as false as her vaunted honesty. She targets her victims and coddles her favourites. Continue reading
My second offering. To find out more go to Julia’s page http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2012/02/06/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week-30/
Dear Tim,
Poor you. What a horrible accident. Traction is not fun, and six months in bed is a long time by anyone’s reckoning.
Catching your coat in the escalator must have been so frightening. It certainly looked very dramatic, and I must say you seemed to have the strength of ten trying to free it. It might have been better simply to take it off, but perhaps you weren’t thinking entirely rationally. Or maybe you were embarrassed at half the Northern Line watching you. You’re on YouTube!
I know you blame me, but it wasn’t my fault.
I’m sorry I laughed.
Friends again?
Margaret
A message from Julia:
This prompt will be open for two weeks.
I have been aware that the news this week seems to have had a familiar thread through it. The shared prompt is …it wasn’t my fault…
If you are new here and are wondering what this is all about do read ‘What is 100WCGU?’ and hopefully it will all make sense. If not do get in touch through a comment below or via twitter (@jfb57).
The morning was cold. She dressed quickly and made breakfast, letting the heat from her coffee mug seep into her fingers while her egg boiled. Her packed bag stood in the hall. John was picking her up at seven thirty. Loads of time. Dawn broke and she saw the colour she used to call sky-blue-pink spreading across the rooftops. Sky-blue-pink. Playground words jostled in her memory; “you’re it!” “it wasn’t my fault!” “one potato…” Years ago, yet only a heartbeat away. Childhood; it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. But she hadn’t known it then.
From Julia’s page
http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2012/01/30/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week-29/
“So the prompt for this week is: ….WEDNESDAY….
As usual you have 100 words and you should include the word Wednesday. If you are new here, please look at ‘What is 100WCGU?’ (I have amended the instructions thanks to a comment from last week!)”
Waking in morning sunshine, Nuala stretched luxuriously.
Eight good hours of sleep aboard The Peaseblossom.
Ducks gathered as she made breakfast and she threw them some bread.
Nine o’clock, and the marina was suddenly busy with people keen to make the most of the fine day.
Engines spluttered into life, gunwhales were swabbed, food was stowed away.
Shipshape and Bristol fashion.
Drinking coffee in the forecabin, Nuala watched, sketchbook beside her.
Afterwards, when most of the boats had gone, and she was alone once more, she sat crosslegged on the bow, and drew.
Yesterday and work seemed a lifetime ago.
Clarissa waved to him from a corner table across the restaurant, a heap of glossy bags beside her.
Giles joined her. She poured him some wine as he sat down.
“No need to ask how you did,” he smiled, raising his glass. “You must have half of Bond Street there.”
“All gift-wrapped too. How about you?”
His smile widened.
“You found something for Lois?” Clarissa was incredulous. “Show me what you bought her.”
“What do you think?” Inside the box Giles passed her, a golden leaping hare formed the hilt of silver paperknife, its dappled blade spotted with runes, like a magician’s dagger.
This is the first time I have joined this. For more information, look here:
http://jfb57.wordpress.com/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups/
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