Malcolm’s room

It was the last part of the writing course I’ve been on yesterday; it has been so useful to meet other writers and talk and exchange ideas, and to be prompted to write differently.

Earlier on, maybe in week one, I write something about David, who shared a house with other people; opposite his room was Malcolm’s room, but he’d never had much to do with him until one evening Malcolm asked for help moving a piece of furniture. Yesterday it was suggested we write about a view from a window,and for some reason Malcolm and David came back into my mind:

Malcolm’s room was the same as mine except the other way round and also his window didn’t look out over the garden, it was on the side of the house and faced the wall of the house next door – just the blank brick wall. It was evening and his light was on but it must be a very dark room during the day… and boring, staring out at the dreary yellow Castair bricks.
It was actually really strange  to just be staring at… bricks! And dingy and depressing bricks! Together with his empty room it was a bit peculiar.
Poor guy, to have ended up in this room of all those in the house. I wanted to ask him why he hadn’t moved into my room when it was empty before I moved in.

This might actually develop into a story… but where it will go, I have no idea! I think David becomes fascinated by Malcolm who works as a curator in the Local History Museum in the old umbrella factory… Maybe it will mesh in with the true story I wrote earlier, where I disguised he real people and places by setting it in my imaginary museum!


  1. David Lewis

    Malcolm had to use the space then the space became Malcolm. Even after he left, it was a part of him and his journey through this life. Even innate objects hold a part of our spirits.

    Liked by 1 person

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