Welcome to Friday. I am in a really good mood. Yesterday i woke with the various pieces of a story I have been thinking about for a while finally clicking into place. I spent the morning getting all of the work I had to do done and then after lunch I dove into the story and wrote like a fiend for the rest of the day. It was fabulous. I am now going to have to carve out a little time each day to work on the story now that I have it, but that is a pleasurable task. And I am pleased to incorporate it. But for now, the morning writing prompt. Are you ready? Fabulous. Let’s go.
I don’t know the story here but I can really picture the room. I thought this was kind of fun. Not sure what to do with it, but I will at least save the room for later.
Friday, October 28th: The room was a design disaster.
The room was a design disaster. Everywhere the eye turned colors clashed and patterns jangled. It felt like an assault on her sight but Amy kept her face neutral. The furniture was too large for the room and gave the impression that the large room was not only smaller than it was but that the walls were closing in.
The words didn’t help. Splashed about on throw pillows, framed blocks and wall stencils were words. Amy knew the trend and while she wasn’t a fan, had seen it used with good effect elsewhere. Her it was too much and done with no thought to the actual meaning behind the words. On one pillow the word Relax was written in angry red letters in all caps with three exclamation points on it. By contrast a long quote about love was crammed into a tiny wooden framed shadow box, the long quote written in tiny letters and half hidden in the deep shadows of the frame. The fact that the two inch frame was made of rough wood in desperate need of sanding and painted a hot pink was not helping.
Faux fur and faceted glass in a multitude of colors and shaped like cut gemstones lurked on every surface. The chandelier, by contrast was dripping with rounded wooden balls as though it escaped a beach themed living room because it wanted a more glamorous life.
‘It’s like a country girl ran off to the big city and fell in with a pack of demented circus clowns turned prostitutes,’ Amy thought looking around. She wasn’t sure where to let her eye rest. She wasn’t sure there was a place for the eye to rest. Off to the side Trish expounded on the details of her design scheme. She took the term maximalist to label this catastrophe of a creation.
Amy had seen maximalist done and done well, this wasn’t it. However she knew better than to offer an opinion. She was here to witness the glory of Trish’s creation, not offer opinion or advice. Any comment she made that was anything but a breathy fabulous would immediately bring down a tirade of her lack of understanding.
Amy had only met Trish a hand full of times but learned very quickly that not only was Trish the expert in everything, but that no one ever crossed her. In addition to the term maximalist, other buzz words floated across the room drifting towards her ears. None of them sounded like they fit with this room. Amy felt a headache coming on. She understood pushing the boundaries of design. But for some people, those boundaries existed for a reason. The others moved off, beginning the tour of the other rooms. While Amy had no problem leaving this room and in fact desperately wanted to escape, she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to see the disasters that the other rooms represented.
The words Female Empowered glam floated back down the hallway and Amy winced. Luckily no one was looking. Amy felt her cell phone vibrate and dove for it in relief.
‘Please be an emergency,; she thought as she saw her office number flash on the screen.
Ten til Midnight 