Writing Prompt 52: Window
Happy New Year everyone! I'm finding it hard to believe it's now 2024.
If you currently have your head under a pillow due to a spectacular hangover from a spectacular party from the night before - I say, "Good for you!" That party could be fuel for your creative writing.
If you took things a little slower last night and are happy to flex those writing muscles today, I say, "All power to you! Let's get on."
This week's photograph couldn't be more appropriate. All those gyms that groan under the weight of January sign-ups only to lose half of them a month later. I've only ever been a gym member once in my life, about 20 years ago. I used the swimming pool three times and the cross-trainer once. I realised then I am not a gym bunny.
But maybe you are and have no end of stories to tell. Write them down, write them down. Or maybe in the interests of research (or your health), you decide to join a gym today. Don't forget to take notes, there’ll be stories there. Trying to keep everything in your head never works. At least for me, it doesn't.
Have fun. Until next time.
Press Up
"Judge me. Don't judge me. Judge me. Don't judge me. Hup! Hup! Hup! Come on, guys! Feel that burn! Make those muscles work. I wanna see the sweat dripping off these bodies! Hup! Hup! Hup!"
"I hate him," said Maxine, sweat seeping through the fabric of her expensive fitness wear. Perspiration rolled down her forehead into her eyes. "Remind me. Why do we do this?"
"No talking. No talking. NO TALKING."
Carol looked at the clock above the large mirror behind Samson.
"Jesus," she said. "Do you think he thinks he'll find Cleopatra here?"
Maxine giggled, almost slipping on her mat. "It's ridiculous," she said. "He doesn't even have long hair." She whispered between press-ups. "I can't do anymore."
"Keep going, keep going. I want five more!"
"I think I'm going to die," said Hilda. "Do you think he'd notice?"
"THREE...TWO...ONE...and...break."
The class collapsed, lying prone on their soft, thin mats like beetles on their backs with their legs in the air. The room filled with the sound of heavy breathing.
"Water. I need water," said Carol, reaching for her bottle.
"A quick hydration break, everyone. And then we're back at it." Samson flexed his pecs. Every single one of his short, tight muscles gleamed in the bright LED lighting.
"I can't stop looking at him," said Maxine. "Those muscles aren't real. Are they?"
Samson turned, his eyes catching hers. She hadn't expected he would notice her standing there. He smiled a small smile that curled the corners of his mouth but didn't reach his eyes.
"He knows we all stare at him," said Maxine, sweeping her hand across her forehead.
"You look a little pink, Max," said Carol. "Is there something you're not telling us?"
Story first posted September 2019 // Photo:Tanya Clarke 2019
