Redivivus Writing Meets

20260829

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

“Alright, so, I have a conundrum…” Minerva announced, steepling her crimson nails over her laptop. “Everyone says you really shouldn’t base a character on real people, especially ones you knew, especially if you’re using them as a villain, BUT firstly she’s been dead for nearly a century, and secondly she was a massive bitch and totally deserved to be cast as an evil fashionista. Do you think I can get away with it?”
There were bemused and fondly exasperated snorts from the rest of the writing group, and Winnie archly said “No offence taken.”
“Oh, you know I didn’t mean ‘oversized female dog’!” Minerva scoffed, half contrite and half impatient.
“Uh-huh.” Winnie rolled her eyes.
Neal scratched his skull and mused “I mean, the real question is, will anybody notice? And - unless she was famous - that mostly hinges on whether she has loved ones still around.”
“Loved ones? Pah!” Minerva wrinkled her nose, as if she’d bitten into someone who’d had garlic. “I doubt it.”
“Well, you might want to look into it. And ask a lawyer about what kind of slander cases decedents can bring.”
“You’re a-”
“Oh, for!” Neal’s glowing pupils flicked upwards before fixing her with an exasperated stare, his voice developing a stern reverb. “I worked in employment law, and you know it! Two hundred years ago, no less! Stop trying to get me to give you free legal advice that’s not even in my old wheelhouse.”
Minerva grumbled “You could at least recommend someone to talk to.”
“I could if I knew anyone with the relevant expertise.” Neal huffed. “Anyway…”
He pulled out his tattered leather notebook and coughed, the sound echoing around his ribcage. “I’ve, um, taken another stab at sonnets, and… while I couldn’t get it to work the way it did in my head, I think there’s something here?”
“Ooh, go on.” Belinda said encouragingly, her ghostly form coalescing until it was almost opaque. She was always pleased when someone else in the group tried poetry.
Before long her and Neal were bent over his notebook, bouncing ideas and lines back and forth as they chewed over everyone’s feedback, while Eugene and Cathy helped Winnie trim down her latest chapter. At least she was getting better at not overusing adverbs.
Meanwhile Minerva was tapping away, looking into qualified advice. And occasionally merrily relaying some juicy case study she’d found.
The contented hubbub trailed off as someone coughed, and the group looked up to find what seemed to be a human clutching a backpack to their chest and staring in a hopeful fashion.
“Are, um, are you a writing group?” The mortal asked shyly. “Do, do you meet here often? Can people join, or is it private?”
“Ah…” The varied undead exchanged helpless looks.
But, well, it wasn’t like it wasn’t obvious what kind of people they were. So after a long, uncertain silence, Minerva flashed a polite smile (carefully not showing any fangs) and said “Yes, we’re a writing group, we meet here weekly, and the more the merrier. What’s your name?”
“Ah, well… my name’s Jackie, and…” The human’s eyes unfocused and voice shifted to a demonic growl “Call me Braxy.”
“Ahhhhh.” The group nodded, relaxing, and Eugene said “Pleased to meet you both. Let’s get you a seat, and you can show us what you’re working on.”

Prompt was “Write the dialogue of the aspiring authors in a small writers’ group meeting.”