Creative Writing Course - 2nd week's homework.

The second week's class started with each of us reading out our homework assignment from the previous week.  I was a bit concerned that my offering might be deemed a little risque, particularly as I hadn't had much opportunity in the two hours the previous week to assess my classmates.  I needn't have worried.  Doug the Tutor had also undertaken the same exercise as he'd set us, and finished his with the dialogue 'Come on, let's fuck off.  The bus is waiting!'  It made my story about Dr Oral Love tame in comparison.  Thanks Doug. 


For our next assignment he sent us away with a line from a Brothers Grimm fairy story called 'The King of the Golden Mountain' and told us to continue from that line with another 200 - 500 words.  I've had an idea in my mind for some time that I will send my main character, Reece Winner, to other countries where his philanthropy might be desperately welcomed.  There are several places in the world that I have already visited, where I've hopefully gained sufficient knowledge with which to write some of these stories.  However, I have never been to the African continent further south than Egypt, and would love to embark on a trip to gather research for a Reece Winner story I already have in mind for there.  I was thus inspired to write this piece for this week's assignment.

The son took leave of his father, placed himself in a small boat and the father had to push it off with his own foot.  The water, turned silver by the moonlight, lapped at the bows like mercury, as the boat slid silently away.  Neither dared speak for fear of discovery, nor look in the other’s eyes in case a visible tear changed their decision.  Reece knew that his leaving the island was his father’s only chance of survival.  He needed to make it to the mainland before the bank opened for business on Monday and cancel the transfer to Okeke’s bank account.  They had both agreed that once he had the ransom, Okeke would have no reason to let them go free, or to cease his executions of the surviving hostages.

He paddled as quietly as he could with his hands, afraid to lower the oars into the water until he was sure the guards would not hear their splashes.  He watched his father slip away into the shadows and wondered if he would ever see him alive again.  The moon passed behind a cloud, cloaking the sea in blackness, offering Reece an opportunity to put distance between him and the island.  He installed the oars and silently lowered the blades into the near-motionless sea.  As he drew the oars powerfully into his chest, he felt the gratifying surge of the boat pulling away from the shore, taking him towards the safety of the mainland and away from his nightmare.  At the end of the stroke, he cautiously raised the blades high above the surface of the water, to avoid catching a crab.  He pushed the oars forward once more, holding his breath to eliminate even that sound, as the rowlocks creaked and rattled.  As he dipped the oars once more, he saw a tiny flame in the bushes as a guard lit a cigarette.  His heartbeat resonated as adrenalin and terror conspired to make him row for all he was worth and hope to get far enough away to evade recapture.  Then he remembered how Okeke’s men had chased poor Bandele, when he had tried to paddle his canoe for the mainland a few days earlier.  He could still hear the men’s laughter as they circled him in motor launches causing him to capsize and almost drown in their wakes, before Okeke himself, had put a bullet in his head and left him out in the Strait to the sharks.

The image of Bandele floating face down, his young life ebbing into the sea, stirred his hatred for Okeke and his desire to see him dead.  Staying calm, meant staying alive and clinging to the chance of personally seeing that happen.