He didn’t smile is a writing prompt taken from Winter of the White Horde. The book is the standalone sequel to my middle grade (read that as aged 9 to 90 in terms of the small but enthusiastic fan base) Guardians of the Forest series. The section the prompt comes from is shown below.
Winter of the White Horde, and the other four books in Guardians of the Forest are all on sale at 99c/p throughout August, for the summer holiday. Find them here. (You need to scroll down the Amazon page to get them all!)
He didn’t smile. Tristan’s normally sparkling brown eyes were tired and puffy, telling Callie his nights were restless. The crumpled state of his cloak suggested he had slept in it. Beneath the cloak, his clothes were in the same state. His brown curly hair was mussed, and he had shaved badly, as if combing his hair and shaving took time he couldn’t spare.
Callie frowned, holding onto her questions, asking her housekeeper to bring hot drinks and food. She ushered Tristan into her sitting room.
A fire burnished the rows of leather-bound books, and afternoon sunlight streaming from a high window lit paintings and tapestries filling the spaces between bookcases.
‘Tell me. What’s happened to bring you, in this state –’ Callie gestured at the cloak Tristan tossed over the arm of a chair ‘– to my door, with no warning. In winter too.’
Her guest slumped to a book-laden sofa, not bothering to push aside the clutter. ‘It’s Beron,’ he said in an exhausted, strangled voice. ‘Melda took him.’
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I need to read the book, obviously. Sounds like everyone has a pretty rough time of it LOL
HE DIDN’T SMILE
He didn’t smile. How could he after what she just said.
“I’m leaving you, Trevor. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”
This was a bolt from the blue. He sat there, stunned – gazing intently across the dining room table.
She had only come home a few minutes earlier and Trevor couldn’t help but notice how tired she looked.
“I’ve had a terrible day,” was all she said. “I need a stiff drink.”
“No problem,” he responded, heading to the drink cabinet in the dining room. “I’ll fix your usual.”
She sat down at the table, one hand pushing her long hair from her forehead.
Trevor thought she didn’t just look tired, but also unhappy.
He handed her the drink and she took a long swig before turning to him and making her announcement.
“I know, Trevor. I know everything,” she started to cry.
“Know what?” he queried. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” The tears were flowing freely now. “Sue told me all about your goings on with that slut at work – what’s her name, Dora.”
“What, what goings on?” Trevor was totally caught off guard and looked highly embarrassed and flustered.
“Don’t try to cover it up, Trevor. I know it’s been going on for months. Secret trysts when you told me you were working late or at the pub with the boys. Well, now I know everything.” The sobbing was becoming more intense.
“You obviously don’t love me or you wouldn’t be doing such a thing.”
“That’s not true,” Trevor was becoming desperate. “I do love you. It’s just that…”
“Just what? One woman not enough for you? You have to spread your wings and try it on with someone else at the same time.”
“No, that’s not it,” Trevor exclaimed. “It’s just that you’ve been so busy with your work and every day you come home looking exhausted. And I’ve got needs, you know. After all, I am a man in my prime. And I don’t want to bother you with my desires when you’re so tired and all.”
“That’s no excuse, Trevor,” she retorted. “I’m working so we can save to buy a house. And here you are – galivanting all around the countryside with that floosy. Worse, all our friends know what you are doing. But even more damaging, you never bothered to discuss your needs with me. You didn’t even give me a chance to rectify the situation.”
She was holding the vase that normally resided in the centre of the table and Trevor thought she might attack him with it at any moment.
“Listen,” he pleaded. “Calm down. We can work something out, I am sure we can.”
“Work out what? You’re gonna stop seeing Dora and concentrate entirely on your wife from now on? I don’t think so.”
“Sweetheart, of course I am,” a conciliatory response. “It’s you I love, you know that.”
“No, I don’t. And, frankly, if this is how you show it – I don’t want any part of it.”
With that reply, she rose from the table and ran to the front door – slamming it shut behind her.