At the writers’ group, we were shown a small model of the Eiffel Tower, and asked to write whatever came into our heads, based on the model. Here’s my effort, written in the ten-minute allowed.
Zhwoowh, zhwoowh, zhwoowh …
Fading in and out, finally strengthening in its solidarity, a blue small box – the height of a small shed, but of a size for only one, with a blue blinking light on top, materialized on the footpath corner.
The noise died down. all that could be heard now was the sounds of occasional night road traffic.
The door opened, and out stepped a tall man, wearing a long coat with a ridiculous top hat on his mass of curls, followed by a young woman, blonde and busty, with a slightly vapid, bored expression on her face.
” Look, it’s still here. I told you it would be,” gloated the man.
” Well, o’ course, ‘s been ‘ere since 1800 and somefin’, ‘s made of iron and it ain’t gonna gerrup an’ walk off, is it nah?” She was obviously bored, or failed to understand his excitement.
” You just watch,” he said. “Tonight’s the night. It’ll all happen tonight, and we got here in time!”
“Wha’ will?,” she asked, examining her nail polish.
“Galarians. They’ve been slowly gathering here for days. Tonight we’ll see them take off to fly back to Galaria.”