Writer's Notebook

The end is never the end but merely a new beginning. So when this weeks Sunday Scribblers prompt came up, I wondered what would come after for my four protagonists.


Laughter burst onto the streets as the four of them exited the building for the last time. Four weeks hard grind had produced some quite amazing results. But now it was all over. They hugged their goodbyes and made their home.

Richard felt drained. He turned away from the others and walked slowly away. The seminar had taken a lot out of him. But worse still, there was nothing left. Nothing more than an inch of brandy at the bottom of the bottle he hadn't touched in over four weeks. Interacting with others for the first time in years he'd started to hope again. But hope proved bitter; it had come and gone, it had betrayed him. At least, the bottle was still there.

Rose skipped down the street towards the taxi rank. The world was at her feet and she was out to conquer it. The seminar had been interesting; her three colleagues friendly. She had been bowled over by Mike's charm but his cynicism didn't go well with her optimism. Anyway, now she was on her way to America, recording contract in hand. And the next time in London her name would be flashing across the town in bright lights. Life was wonderful.

Liz felt contented. She watched the city grow dim in the distance. It had been worthwhile, but she was not sorry it was over. She could already see the warm fire awaiting her. Her treasured desk, the book-laden shelves. True, writing could be a grind. Nothing happened, but excitement was all it was cut out for. And as Keith advanced through the shadows to envelope her in a vast hug, she knew she wanted nothing else.

Mike walked a few steps before flipping a coin. Heads, Trafalgar Square, tails Kensington Gardens. The result didn't really matter. Wherever he went, something would turn up, it always did. That's how he had gotten to where he was. Sheer luck and some his Irish charm meant he could turn anything to gold. And he must remember to call on Richard before he left tomorrow. Life was surely better than an old bottle.