Blurry Lights



Everyone will narrate a story but the balance with show and tell has to be right -

Jack and Jill walk up a hill to fetch a pail of water. THIS WOULD BE TELLING.



                A paunch man, middle-aged, Jack wheezed as he climbed the final in-climb to Cliff’s Edge, holding a rolled-up bit of brown paper, “Gosh, so steep,” he said to his climbing partner, Jill.

                “I hope it’s worth it,” Jill replied, as she too was now walking up the final bit of the hill with her hands on her hips, breathing deeply.

                “It will be, the best water there is, that’s what you’ve got to think. Like the amber nectar of the water, crisp, cool, untouched. Cliff’s Edge springwater has been sat within the hill for thousands of years. It’ll be water like you’ve never had before."

                Jack licked his lips and pushed ahead, climbing the final few steps. At the top of the hill, he glanced at the views of the area, a patchwork of small fields where farmers ploughed, sowed and harvested different crops. “Looks like a blanket,” he said.

                Jill could barely stand, “Windy, though,” she replied.

                “Here, she goes,” Jack said, “moaning.”

                “Just saying,” Jill responded. “Jesus, can’t I have an opinion.” Jill looked to the well. A collection of boulders arranged in a circular shape, with what looked like a hole in the top. She glanced in, “Oh, brilliant! Empty!”

                Jack rushed to the well and glanced in. At the bottom, there was simply mud and the well no deeper than what appeared like thirty feet. “Probably beneath the mud.”

                “Did you happen to buy and magic beans as well?” Jill sarcastically asked.

                Jack pointed a finger, “Hey, this’ll make us rich, Jill,” he said.

                “What? You don’t think that anyone has ever thought of this? What are you, stupid?” she responded arrogantly.

                Jack stared at Jill. “I told you, don’t call me stupid!”

                “Well, you’re stupid, stupid, thick as the mud at the bottom of that well.”

                Jack walked up to Jill, unrolled the brown paper, “See,” he pointed at the paper, “look, see, the map says right here, at the top there’s a well. Cliff’s Edge.”

                “How much did you pay for this, this time?” she asked condescendingly. “Why can’t you just work, do an honest days’ work? A carpenter or something. Build something!”

                “Always scorning me,” Jack snapped. “Always got something negative to say, always something sour. Nothing ever positive. Always negative. We’ll have to change your name to Vinegar Tits!” He laughed.

                “At least I don’t think that I’m a king; that’s what you think you’re. A king of something!”

                The laughter slipped from Jack’s face, and he took a swipe at Jill, she ducked, and Jack slipped down into the well, he grabbed at Jill’s leg, and she fell with him. They both hit the mud at the bottom of the well. Blood was pouring from Jack’s head; Jill was just lying still. Jack clambered out of the well and went home, leaving Jill in the mud.

              "I'm going to bed!" Jack said.