Morning all. Didn’t sleep well and feeling a bit tired. Think I’m getting a bit of a summer cold actually. Still, the day is getting started. I might make it a short one. For now, the writing prompt. So timers ready and off we go.
I kind of like this. Need to show more of the drama rather than tell, but I like the idea.
Wednesday, July 24th: He took up a hunk of clay.
He took up a hunk of clay. He didn’t know what he was going to make wit it, he just knew he had to create something in order to calm himself. All of their orders, both large and small had been filled. Everything else was on hold. He finished his commissioned pieces and sent his staff on a brief holiday. It was too hot to fire the kilns now anyway. With temperatures reaching record highs, he didn’t need the extra blast of heat his furnaces would provide. The fans and air conditioning units were barely enough to keep everyone from overheating even without the kilns going.
He was supposed to be on holiday ass well. Now that their last order was out and they had time, he was supposed to refresh himself. He only took a few corporate orders a year, but the last few had been larger than usual and they took over the more artistic side of things. He appreciated the money and banked the extra, but it added a great deal of strain to the business.
He slammed the lump sown on the center of his wheel. Everything he might need was in place from the water and sponges to the array of tools he might feel the need to use. The hunk of clay had been basically forms so it could be placed with relative ease in the center of a wheel and be considered more or less balanced, weight wise. Nothing else had been done. He settled himself in the stool in front of the wheel and dipped the sponge in the waiting bucket of water.
He had no plans, nothing specific he wanted to create. He just needed something to do with himself a he turned thoughts over in his head. Business was good and while in the upcoming year he would be more selective with his corporate clients, he couldn’t actually complain that too much work was being sent his way. No at the moment, family was the issue. More specifically his parents.
Their relationship had always been a roller coaster. They were both dramatic people and they brought the drama into their relationship. His siblings all managed a high level of drama in their lives as well. He was more like his maternal grandfather and one of the few who preferred col and steady in his daily life. In general it meant that he was a sounding board. He was called and one of his family would regale him with the high drama of their lives and tell him how lucky he was to have managed to settle down into such a settled life.
For his part he resisted the urge to remind them that they created the drama that swirled around them. He had also perfected the art of the appreciative and understanding sounds that weren’t actual words. Often they made up the bulk of his conversation. That had always been his role. Until three days ago when his father landed on his doorstep, suitcase in hand.
The drama had reached a crescendo. His father took up residence in the guest room and was proceeding to drive him mad. ‘The calls from Mom don’t help,’ he thought. While they each declared it was over, they took turns calling each other. There were at least five calls from each of them to the other every day. This morning, his sister arrived on his doorstep with her own luggage and her own dramas.
Ten til Midnight 