|
I am about the head out on a journey to a place that doesn’t require shoes or shirts and arms will be itchy and legs wll be sore and minds will be racing while I head out the door. There will be whispers among the willows and wakings from beds that sway in the moonlight a pillow under head. There will be sunshine in the morning give thanks for looking over us. Your warmth provides cushions from the coldness of the North. The edge of the darkness will wander around your feet while the path lit up ahead will stamp out a beat. Beautiful buzzing bees will dance from petal to flower us with honey, sweet and drizzly under our tongues. Your waist up to the water will be surrounding every inch and bog full of bull frogs as they cantor in the wind. The whispers among the willows once again will wake us from our slumber in the pine grove by the windmill in our minds.
I have stories to learn and lessons to earn in the confines of my mind.
I’ll take the line and sort out the moss on the rotted logs as I jump across rivers flowing rapid down the white water canyons of time. I’ll write the hymns humming in caverns like bearfoot whispers dancing in the moonlight. I’ll sing it out loud until my voice turns gritty, harmonies sung through the branches of a barren tree yearning for cover under moonlit eyes. A free write exercise. July 10, 2023 Writing Prompt - He learned the hardest lesson of his life and had the scars, both physical and mental, to prove it. It was the beginning of another week. Another day. Another month. He set out to make it be a different day then the last 273 days.
His mind had just begun wrapping itself around facts that haunted him for what felt like an eternity. Scars had developed behind his eyes so he saw them everywhere he looked. Not physical in nature but actual in their emotionality. What does that mean to him? What does it say? He wanders around the desert wanting water but he's carrying it all on his back. He could drink for days but he doesn't have a straw. He could walk out into the ocean but the salty sea would swallow him. He could wander down the path up the hill over the bluff onto the sand into the sun over the rocky pebbles of the wave battered beach. He should whistle but his lips are dry from parched conversations in the moonlight. He draws his wrist out in front of him, looking at the veins as they pulse. He knows he's alive but he's yet to live again. He's learned the hardest lessons but can't move away or towards them. He's stuck. He's stationary. He's unwaveringly undecided. He's wilting under the heat of the moment that painted physical and mental scars on his body and his mind. He's wondering what he can do. He's wondering what he can say. He's pondering the meaning of those lessons that he learned 273 days ago. 12 minutes pass and he hasn't blinked. 11 more and he starts to whisper. 10 minutes drag him up onto his feet. 9 leaves fall from the tree in front of him. 8 times he stuck his foot out from off the curb yet put it back down without moving ahead. 7 meals he ate alone without taking a bite. 6 rolls of the dice before he saw the eyes of the snake. 5 fingers ran through his hair and he relaxed. Finally. 4 minutes passed before their stare was broken. 3 beers between the 2 and they became 1 again. I am tired.
I am sore. I am winded. I’m spread out on the floor. I’m scared. I’ve fared. I am wounded. I’m sent out the door. I’ve thought. I’ve pondered. I am whistling. I’m going to the store. To pick up some bread and milk and eggs. It’s time for some French Toast. Sometimes using the alphabet as a literary crutch becomes an exercise worth doing. In this exercise I used every letter of the alphabet to create a short story in prose form. It's really difficult to get anything to work with the letter "X" as there were very few words I could think of in the moment that started with X. This always ends up being a fun exercise whenever I do it. Anderson crept along the cliff edge
Bribing the seagulls to squawk Careless his toe caught a stone and Down the hill he dropped Every moment passed by his eyes Flashed in between the seconds Gaining speed he began to panic How am I going to make it? Intertwined within the branches Just beyond the cliff-wall’s edge Kept his eye on a piece of rope Length of which he couldn’t have said Making a last ditch effort’s worth Not having another chance Out he reached to grab the rope Praying he trusted his glance Questions answered in one blink Reaching one last time Scorching hands to a halt The moment he held the line Under pressure he heard a crack above Vicious burning in his hands With an inch to spare it held him “X-ray Tango Delta copy?” “Yessir loud and clear” “Zero chance to let this slide?” #writingprompt #whatwordsstartwithx #alphabet |
Brian Theoret | Notes in the Sandboxa collection of writing, reflection, inspiration... Archives
June 2024
Categories
All
|
Brian Theoret
RSS Feed
