the place to tell your tales

It had been a long time since Claire was in the company of other writers. Let alone write something in the first place. Claire had a thin but a strong frame, uncharacteristic for her life style. Her eyes were a bright, clear monochrome blue; you could see her emotions like a moonlit sea crashing against the shore, in her eyes. She always wore, tinted glasses, to mask her emotions.

Claire was met at the door by Jessica, who looked her up and down without any judgment. With such ease Jessica removed Claire glasses to get a better look. Claire could see her own baggage, being nicely unpacked in Jessica's, digital green, eyes. Everything about Jessica seemed to be built to disarm and collect. Right down to her attire.

The home that they were in was almost like a manor. Sadly it was a case of wanting to be but falling short of it. Halle was the owner of the manor. She was once from a wealthy family, long since ruined by scandal. They were settled around the kitchen which looked immaculate; either she had a maid or this was the first time she cleaned it since the last get together.

There were five of them including Claire. They are Abbey, Jessica, Raquel, Halle, and Ginger the cat. That is the cats’ actual name. There was coffee and baked goods from a store, displayed on the kitchen table, which they call the round table. It isn't round.

Raquel is usually addressed as Queen Guinevere or Morgan Le Fay, depending on the whim of whoever, is speaking about/to her. She was the one who started calling the table the round table. She said that they were like knights fighting against the evils of the banality of a blank page, with their pens drawn high.

Abbey was, a modern snow white or sleeping beauty. To smart to eat apples given to her by haggard old ladies alone in the wilds; who are obviously a witch. That's a lot of red flags. She was also too arrogant to ever be seen anywhere near a sewing needle. But checks all the other boxes; sort of. She was a freckled ginger, that wouldn't get caught in a dress; but still attractive.

When dealing with recruiting a new member Jessica would take role of leader; being the best judge of character. She is also why the group has had the same members for years. They had recently lost a member to the bottle, Darby, who was too disruptive to get any writing done, being drunk most of the time. So they kicked her out. They all missed her

Raquel was taking this the hardest. She was nice and welcoming, but hadn't said a single thing about Arthurian legend to Claire; she would always quiz the new girls about it; to see if they were cool enough. Raquel was a little immature. Strangest thing was when Raquel quizzed Darby not only did she fail but she mocked her throughout the quiz. A few weeks later they were inseparable.

Jessica could see right away Claire was no Darby. She was lost in a sea of her own dreams, frustrated with her inability to transport people to the worlds within them. Jessica could tell that Claire was not blocked but was afraid of her inner turmoil. She had been raised, believing many things, that turned out to be lies. But where they really? She was always chasing the illusive why.

She softly introduced Claire to the group. One by one when introduced, each girl would say a little bit about themselves. Once they were finished with all of the introductions

they chatted a little more about whatever suited their fancy. Mostly about Claire. All while drinking coffee and eating homemade, grocery store pastries. They chatted a bit more between the five of them, Raquel barely spoke a word before they got to the part Claire was dreading; talking shop.

Jessica decided that she would be the first one to share their manuscripts. Hers was about a southern detective mixed up into the occult. The main set of girls were a little confused, last meeting it was about a southern detective, thrown randomly through to time in space in a broken time machine. I guess story consistency or cohesiveness did not matter as long as there was a southern detective in it.

Abby was one of the reasons Jessica introduced the new girls. When she first arrived, the girls had the impression she was another spitting nails feminist, so when she started reading amorous poetry Darby pissed herself and the group collapsed like dominoes. Abby slammed her book down, fuming out of every orifice and was about to storm out when, like trainer in a lion cage, Jessica calmed her down. They both went out into the fresh air, noting by the nicotine stains on Abby's fingers, took out a pack of smokes and offered her one; Jessica didn't smoke.

Raquel was not sure what kind of adaption she wanted to make from Arthurian legend this time. Everyone's favorite was what they liked to called the Arthurian galaxy which was good enough to be a success as a stand alone tittle without the Arthurian IP. She was partial to it, but not enough to continuously breathe life into it

Halle, like Jessica, had completely abandoned her story, which was historical fiction, in a sense, as her family did have deep roots and its down fall was sown between the words of modern history. Whatever it was she was trying to write, it was nowhere near as interesting as her abandoned piece.

It was Claire's turn. Before she composed herself, her voice was like a stuttering motor. Her story was about a women and her family throughout the years, dealing with a life changing injury when she was young. From what the rest of the group could tell, she cared about these characters and felt like they lived off the page as well.

After the introduction of their current project and how it had been developing they went around the table critiquing each other. Until it was time to pack it all up. As Claire was leaving Raquel tapped her on her shoulder and gave her a fist pump. She told her hat one of the characters reminded her of someone close to her; you can call me Guinevere.

Guinevere turned around one final time and said. “she was once lost like you.” she continued "but i she found her way home."