Tagged: open university

Creative Writing Assignment 2: “The Fairweather Hotel”

The assignment was to write a short story. I decided to go for a spooky story.

“The Fairweather Hotel” by S. Dawson

Tom Christie pulled open the door to the Boar Arms, walked into the welcoming warmth and scanned the packed bar. He saw his friend, Chris Jones, seated at a corner booth and made his way towards him. Tom was in his early thirties, stocky with thick lightly curling black hair. He wore black combat trousers, a thick green fleece under his blue waterproof and heavy pair of walking boots. Chris was dressed in a similar fashion, a large rucksack resting at his feet.

Tom reached the booth and greeted his friend. They had been friends since university, sharing a common passion for hiking and the English countryside. This trip was the first they had been able to organise since Chris had married earlier that year and each had been eagerly looked forward to it.

They discussed their plans and examined the map before retiring to bed, ready for an early start the next morning.

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Creative Writing Assignment 1: “A Late Arrival”

This is the start of a detective noir piece that I was thinking about extending for a later assignment (then I read the rules and realised we can’t do that so this is just the start of a detective noir piece :P).

“A Late Arrival” by S. Dawson

Leaning back in my chair, I tipped back my whisky, savouring the burn as it slid down my throat and settled the fire in my stomach. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply on my cigarette and listened to the soft click-clack of Missy’s typewriter. There was a pause in her clicking, and I heard voices. My nine o’clock must be here, about damned time.

I looked up as my office door swung open, the early morning fog drifting in from the open window, diffusing the harsh overhead light, giving her an angelic look.

She was dressed modestly, knee length brown skirt with a slit half-way up giving a teasing glimpse of her thighs. Her stockings were silk, high end, shoes, too, must have cost a dime. Her blouse clung to her in all the right places, buttons straining over her voluptuous bosom. She had a vulnerability to her that screamed to stay the hell away.

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