Worn Wood

wewriwa_square_4I’m trying to get into the habit of being a weekly participant at Weekend Writing Warrior. Chugging along alright, getting some steam!

Weekend Writing Warrior recap:

  • Sign up on the site.
  • Post 8 sentences of your writing, published or unpublished, to go live after 12:00 noon
  • Then visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8 sentence posts.
  • Spread the word! Twitter hashtag #8sunday.
  • More detailed rules here.

I’m sharing snippets from a wip called The First Nation.  Last time I checked in with the Weekend Warriors, Raveena (our mc) had just left work and had returned home, to find her quarters–in which she lives with her family–strangely quietly. After getting her favorite mug, she heard her mother call for her. And to come quickly. Now, Raveena’s reaction.


I didn’t. I stood outside the door for a few moments, staring at the worn wood. If everything wasn’t alright, that meant my father was drunk to the point of worry. It wasn’t anything I wanted to deal with. Again. He could do his best to beat alcohol poisoning without me standing over him. I’d be damned if I got his vomit out of the carpet one more time.

“Raveena?” my mother called.


That’s my 8! Now, get on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors and check out some other great 8s. :)


21 thoughts on “Worn Wood

  1. I feel so bad for Raveena, but what is so neat is that she doesn’t feel sorry for herself. She just keeps on slugging away at life. I hope she doesn’t let it make her hard. :-) Good 8!

  2. siobhanmuir says:

    Oh, I can feel and taste her anger and derision. She’s not one to give up and I suspect she thinks her father has. Nicely done, Jalisa. :)

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