Today’s Assignment: publish a post that includes a new-to-you element.
I’ve been using WP for a while now and am clued up about uploading and embedding images from the media library and linking to photos by URL (again, via the media library). I can link to other WP content, and posts from elsewhere on the interpipe. But reading today’s task post I learned something new – which just goes to show. That you can paste (unlinked) code to various different sites that act as libraries – such as Flickr, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, Pinterest, Soundcloud – and a whole host of others.
Its also a bit of a free-writing exercise as I can blog about whatever I want to, as long as I include that “new-to-me element”.
So I decided to take a look at the weekly writing challenges, and the current week’s prompt, which is to write something with a cliffhanger ending. Which the below does. Sorta. I hope.
He makes his way through the darkened, strobing room, bypassing groups of people, laughing, dancing, singing, joking, drinking. He threads a course down the length of the club, towards the bar. His concentration has a choke hold on the list of drinks in his head, allowing his autopilot to steer him bar-ward.
Pint for him; vodka and coke for Emma; bottle of lager for Ace; bottle of –
– an elbow jostles his ribs for a moment “Sorry mate!” –
– shit. Bottle of ….. Lauren wants a bottle of …. He starts to turn and head back to ask –
– bottle of one of those saccharine-laden vodka drinks for Lauren.
He reaches the last throng – that which surrounds the bar itself. His hand dives into his pocket, clasping fingers around a crumpled twenty. The other hand flicks, dislodging the bracelet that has worked up his arm, allowing it to fall back against his palm and the root of his thumb. He sees an opening and dives forward, pressing into the gang.
Catching the barman’s attention as the barman caught his attention a long time ago –
– “Yes, mate.” He rests one arm on a lager tap, bicep flexing under his tight t-shirt –
– the smooth skin encircled, caressed by the cotton; obvious, hiding –
– gulping out his order, he hands over the crushed note and his fingers tap the damp bar in rhythm.
He stands a moment, realising he has four drinks and only two hands. Two trips? Get some help? Shit. Why didn’t Emma come with? Ace was cutting it up on the dancefloor, leaping and jumping, no doubt. Lauren had been sat, grinning at everything and everyone, absorbing as much as possible. No. He’d come on his own, but a little assistance back might be required.
He starts to turn, his eyes raising from bar height to head height as he searches –
– sipping the head off a pint, a grinning, dark-haired vision in grey –
– the guy. The guy from the office. The guy from the office with the –
– the guy from the office is smiling at him. “Want a hand?”
He lets him lead, eyes glued on the angel before him, shocked, disbelieving. He mentally calls out to Emma, to make her see, to make her notice, to make her help. Somehow she looks up. He reads the shock on her face moments before a private smile flicks her mouth, moments before a wide welcoming grin greets the guy from the office.
He slides the bottles and the glass onto the table and turns slightly –
– eyes immediately drawn to the curve of the body next to him as he leans across –
– kicking under the table draws him back to the words just spoken –
– “Taking mine outside. Coming?” ‘Yes. Follow you everywhere’ rides his tongue but ceases at his lips. He nods only.