On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. (In blogging terms that is like three centuries ago.) Today, write about finding something. (I already created a draft version of what I thought the series was going to be about, so stuff ya’ll!) Today’s twist: if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second installment — loosely defined. (I’ll try.)
The only thing clearer about my inability to follow these prompts accurately would be my inability to stay focused on the task at hand, i.e post daily. I have a convenient excuse. I might suffer from ADHD, as per Dr Google. So here goes my interpretation and an attempt at pleasing the Blogging Gods (aka the Editors of WordPress) who must be seriously annoyed at my lack of commitment to Writing 101.
Not only is Rise of the Guardians one of the best animated movies of all time, it also causes severe silent crying. Especially the pivotal scene when Jack Frost realizes that a little boy can actually SEE him. He does his best to make a little boy believe in miracles and the Tooth Fairy, when suddenly this kid gets a priceless, shocked expression on his face. He sees Jack Frost for the first time and the animators captured that moment brilliantly. And then there is the moment when Jack realises what his center is…Just watch the movie. Continue reading
Assignment for day 8: Go to a local café, park, or public place and report on what you see. Then some blah blah blah with a twist of “no adverbs”.
First off, my restraining order doesn’t allow me any public access. I got it after a little fit I had about an incorrectly priced chair. “A little fit” is an incident where you haven’t assaulted anyone, but required the Wife to remove you from the incompetent imbecile they appointed as the manager of the furniture store. Removal was deemed necessary as a preventative measure in keeping me, a non-violent person, from slapping the shit out of him.
Seeing that hindsight is such a perfect science, I’m slightly embarrassed at my temper tantrum, but I had a rough day. And the price was wrong. And I couldn’t get the chair on the day I wanted it. I had to wait a full 24 hours, which at the time implied that I was going to die. Continue reading
An exercise in using dialogue for Writing 101. Sort of…
Clark was busy getting rid of his shirt and tie, showing flashes of the famous red and yellow logo. He sighed and said “Why do we always choose the smallest places for these costume changes.”
“Huh, what do you mean?” he replied, loosening his belt.
“I’m just saying, it’s cramped and we are a big guy.”
“Ok genius, that’s the second spectacularly stupid idea you came up with today. The first one was this awful tie. What do you suppose we do with our clothes, Einstein? Just shove it in a dumpster. You don’t earn enough money at the Planet to replace clothes that often.”
“I know, I’m just saying. I’m sick of it. And it’s not just the bad pay.”
“Oh for Krypton’ sake, what’s wrong now? You sound more and more like an old lady every day. Nagging is not a very attractive trait on a grown man you know.” He flexes his left arm to avoid cramping. Continue reading
He was hiding in the shadows of the stark white room. Exhaling an icy breath, making the room uncomfortably cold. I folded my arms in a weak attempt to shield him. From the sadness that engulfes the room. I dropped my gaze and felt tears freezing in my sockets.
He is evil as he prays on the old and frail. The weak and the sick. An omnipresence appearing in the wake of tragedy. He appears without making a sound and lurches in the shadows whilst he watches. You feel his presence, the way he spreads grief and despair. I imagine a pale skin stretched over a bleak skull hidden under a big, black hood. His sunken empty eyes glaring at us standing around the bed. Continue reading
A life packed in three boxes, one cupboard left. I found it in the back, the unopened pink envelope. I’m probably going to hell, so I read it anyway.
It was a declaration of love from a dying man. An outpour of scribbled letters painting a picture of a life shared. An honest, sincere apology that touched my heart. I gave it to Lucille, wiping the moisture from my cheeks. I watch her face and saw the tiny sparkles of tears in her eyes.
We looked at one another. No words. We embraced whilst she sobbed silently. I stood helpless, as tragedy filled the tiny room and settled amongst the boxes. Gran never read this. Maybe she would have forgiven him, been less cynical about life.
Maybe she wouldn’t have died with a broken heart.
This was the latest assignment of Writing 101 and it challenged me in two ways (1) It’s fictional and (2) Short. I would like to consider this my first mental back-flip.
I’m turning serial and it’s going to be a threesome. I have no choice in the matter. It was a commitment I made, a voluntary effort and I need to push through.
Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t any more. Make today’s post the first in a three-post series…
It is the latest assignment of the Writing 101 thing-a-ma-chig I signed up for on WordPress so everyone can relax. I’m not about to start swinging a chainsaw severing limbs. I’ve hidden all my power tools and the big knifes are back in the drawer where they belong. I have kept the gloves, overall and a roll of plastic covering, just in case. You never know when it might come in handy.
Have you ever sat and watched kids play? Have you seen how carefree they are? Have you observed how they thrive in an imaginary world, where people fly and ceramic animals talk to each other. Where a bedroom can be a mall or a classroom or a doctor’s office. A world where anything is possible. Continue reading
The round face stares back at me, oblivious of the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface, the emotions that floods my soul. The long arm runs round and round, passing the short one twenty four times a day. Running, moving, ticking, never stopping. Until finally. It stops. Forever.
Twenty minutes? That is not even a full lap of the long arm. It is only 1,800 seconds. It’s nothing. So little time in the context of life. How much can change in so little time? How many things can we say? How many lives can we save? How many lives can we destroy? How many hello’s? How many goodbyes?
Twenty minutes is a fleeting moment, a short time most of us barely comprehend. A few minutes that can change your life. It can rearrange paradigms. Time can be cruel and change everything in an instant.
What if the next twenty minutes will be the last you have? Continue reading