The idea is, every week Raven (View From A Raven's Nest) gives you between 8 and 10 words/phrases and you have to create a small but coherent paragraph using every one of them and the same with the mini challenge. You can do either or both it's up to you, and you can post them on your blog or email them to Raven.
This Week's Ten Word Challenge is: florist, grave yard, sausage, magnificent, soap opera, linguist, columns, volume, French, canvas
Danielle was thrilled to get a part in the new soap opera, which was set in a little village in Derbyshire. She was to play the florist, a new arrival in the village from the Dordogne. She had to perfect a French accent, which would be easy for her as she wasn’t just an actress she was a linguist as well. As she wandered through the grave yard in the little village, practising her lines in her best accent, she recalled the thrill of the magnificent reviews she’d got in the gossip columns for her first few performances in the soap. She’d been a struggling actress for a good few years, living in cheap digs where she had to turn up the volume on her transistor radio to drown out the noise of the neighbours’ domestic rows and eating ‘value’ sausage from the supermarket to survive. What a difference now though, with her first paycheck she had splashed out and bought some oil paints and canvas to indulge herself in her other ‘love’ of painting. Oh yes, life was finally rewarding her for her hard work.
And for the Mini Challenge: suspension bridge, veracity, lunch, multi-faceted, house of ill repute
Isambard was meeting someone called Verity for lunch, he had met her online and this was their first meeting after a few months of emails. She had been very honest with him, disclosing right away that she had been employed at a house of ill repute for a couple of years when she was younger and he had been very impressed with her veracity. Verity was a lovely name he thought, and he had discovered her character was multi faceted, She had been intrigued to learn that he had been named after the man who had designed the Clifton Suspension Bridge, Isambard Kingdom Brunel. He was hoping Verity would be the girl he’d been looking for all his life.
Jeanne Claude’s mind was wandering as he drove across the Viaduc de Millau suspension bridge over the Tarn River Gorge on his way to his father’s funeral. It was many years since he’d left the little village of Saint Enimie to be a journalist in London, where he now had his own daily column and was also well known as a brilliant linguist. He imagined the village had changed a lot since he was last there and he wasn’t in a hurry to discover if the multi faceted daily life there still resembled a soap opera. He’d been driving for hours and suddenly realised he was hungry, he made a decision to stop at the next available place for lunch, which just happened to be a small bakery come delicatessen where he purchased a fresh French stick, some brie and local sausage. There was a small stream nearby so he took his purchases, grabbed a rug from the boot of the car and ate his makeshift lunch whilst digesting the magnificent canvas that was the view. Checking his watch he realised he only had about half an hour before his father’s funeral so he quickly got back on the road again, entering the village fifteen minutes later where he parked his car and hurried to the florist shop before making his way to the grave yard to face the ordeal. There was quite a gathering in the tiny church and a hush descended as he arrived clutching the bunch of flowers . He took a seat in a back pew and listened with interest as the pastor described his father as an honourable man who’s veracity was admired. “What a load of bollocks” he thought “the old goat was a liar and had cheated on my mother all their married life” Jeanne Claude raged inside. Remembering his mother he felt sad at what she’d had to endure at his father’s hands, the constant embarrassment of his father’s actions like the time he was caught in a house of ill repute. After the service he stood at the graveside until everyone had dispersed then picked up a handful of earth which he dropped onto the coffin whilst hissing “Rot in Hell”. Turning on his heels he marched back to his car, ignoring the family calling his name, he started the engine, put a Meat Loaf CD into the player and turned the volume up as high as it would go then roared out of the village to 'Bat Out Of Hell', knowing he would never have to return.