Tag Archives: Creative Writing

Daily Post ~ Dash

Daily Post ~ ‘Dash’

That one short phrase left me paralysed. I saw him emerge from the trees, at quite a distance, before (I hope) he had the chance to see me. I knew him. His stature, his gait, the way he was so absorbed in his music as he jogged through the park alongside the river, catching the breeze. It was freedom to him. His solitary pursuit, and he felt free. I could see it. I knew it. I knew him.

My face burned red as the gap between us gradually began to close. I worried that if or when he saw me he would think that I was a cliché, or a character of my own making, rather than me. My camera hung around my neck, and I fumbled with the pen and notebook in my hand. I had come here to slow down, to walk at the river’s gentle pace, to capture moments too inspiring to miss, that most of us sadly, in too much of a hurry through life, did miss. I was here to think, to ponder, but most of all, to write. This was my freedom. Did that ever really matter to him? Did he ever know me the way I knew him?

He was in his zone. I wanted to be invisible just to give me time enough to compose myself, to figure out what to do or what to say. I took a deep breath. Invisible or not, I would never be ready for this.

He spotted me. He raised his arm slightly in a friendly wave, and I could see him begin to slow his pace, turn his music down, and switch gears. He was always so much better at doing that than me. He could hide the way he felt so much more easily, and that frustrated me. Not that he could appear calm and composed, but that I could not, no matter how hard I tried. Surely he would be able to see right through me, my feigned calm, cool demeanour, to see that inside I was terribly flustered….and afraid. Part of me wanted to be an unfathomable mystery to him, composed, stoic, in complete control. Another part of me wanted him to see me just how I was, and in that to see how much he, how much all of this really meant to me, and in turn to care as much as I did. I wondered if he could.

The distance between us grew shorter and shorter, and then in a breath, he was there before me, hunched over, his hands resting on his knees, his dark hair flopping over his face, as he paused to regain his breath. As he straightened up, his smile disarmed me. He gestured that he would have hugged me but then pointed to himself and his shirt damp with sweat, as if to save me from the discomfort. I smiled, nervously. He was charming as ever, gentle, kind in the questions he asked. He did seem to focus on me, to show a genuine interest in what I was doing. The familiarity seemed to comfort us both. I could see what I couldn’t see in him before, or what I was too hurt to see, what perhaps he was trying to hide. He did care. He did see me.

For some precious moments it seemed as if time had stopped, and if nothing at all had changed between us. As we reconnected, I gently began to ask him about how he was, what was going on in his life, how he was doing. I had never seen him flustered before like this. He wiped his brow, laughed nervously, trying to hide his hurt, trying to protect himself in a way that I sensed he still wanted me to protect him from himself. Somehow, unwittingly, I had disarmed him.

He laughed again, that charming, genuine laugh, and shook it off. And then he said it. ‘It’s been so great to see you, but you know’, he paused gesturing to his sports watch, ‘I’ve really got to dash’.

I froze. I just couldn’t engage myself to speak or act. ‘Got to dash’. Was he in such a hurry to get away from me? Were we still journeying through our lives at such a different pace that even now he could not pause to take this in. Would he miss it yet again? Would I?

He paused just longer than he had intended to and I could see the hurt in his eyes. He really didn’t want to dash, but that was his way of coping, the way he thought he could be free.

And as he turned away, I let him go. Life was too important to me to live at that pace, and he knew that that held true for him too. Perhaps, in time, at a gentler pace our paths would cross once more. But in the meantime, we both had our own journeys to make.

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Daily Prompt ~ ‘Passenger’

Daily Prompt – ‘Passenger’

Today’, I told myself. ‘Today will be the day’. I held this thought for a moment, then let it drift from the forefront of my mind. I wondered if I had everything that I needed. I was sure that I had checked and checked again, but still it was best to make sure, again. Papers, money, tickets, my bag. Yes, I was fine. ‘Just try to relax. Sit back. Enjoy the view. Just breathe, ok. You’ve got this’. I hoped that nobody around me could sense the pep talk I was giving myself, so I looked away, just in case.

For a while I was away from here. Perhaps it was just what I needed. The enforced rest that this journey seemed to bring. Only, it was more like an interrupted sleep. I was lost in the blur of trees and train tracks, of riverbeds and fields and animals grazing. Of city and country intermittently giving way to one another.

I tried to close my eyes for a while. Tried to sleep, or at least to rest. But I was a note in the middle of a symphony of crackling newspapers, wind whistling through the windows, conversations in unknown tongues, the sounds of coughing and the shuffling of feet, as well as metal upon metal and the rhythm of the tracks.

I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t rest for thinking about, imagining all the possibilities of this encounter, and it made me wonder were the people around me travelling to someone, or were they simply traveling to a new place, or perhaps an old and familiar one? Were they solitary in their pursuits, or like me, was this day, today possibly one that they had hoped for, prayed for, one in which their paths might converge or reconnect with someone else on their journey?

And as we hesitantly snatched furtive glances, passengers curious about each others journeys, I wondered were our own stories converging in ways we didn’t yet realise? I knew we weren’t here by accident. And perhaps someday, we would have the blessing of hindsight that foresight could never afford us with to see the significance of today in each others stories.

Maybe someday that would be of more importance to me. But today there was only one person I cared to meet. I checked my papers again, my bag, my ticket. It was almost my stop. I held my breath knowing that I would never feel ready, but I had to take this step. If not today then maybe it would be never. ‘Today’ I told myself. ‘Be Brave. Today’. (c).

 

Daily Prompt – ‘Taper’: A Kite in a sky filled with dreams!

Daily Prompt – ‘Taper’

They crouched together, one soft tiny hand entrusted fully into the safety of its father’s broad and steadfast hold. The little one, wearing orange shorts, a pale blue t-shirt and white trainers, his straight blonde hair fluttering in unison with the kite strings, was a picture of innocence and excitement.

It was time. Hand in hand they arose, and ‘father’ flicked his wrist and let go of the kite, as both reached one arm upwards, the stronger of the two reaching into the sky with the kite, while the tiny, tender arm reached up safely into that steadfast grip. They ran. Slowly at first, and then gathering momentum, one large stride to the pace of three hurried steps.

Up it went, the ribbons and bows fluttering wildly behind it. How long it would last, they did not know, and so they ran, and ran, and ran, as the kite soared and swooshed, and caught the wind, as its tail tapered excitedly into a cloudless sky filled with dreams!

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Daily Prompt – ‘Volume’

Daily Prompt – ‘Volume’ocean bournemouth.jpg

She had come here to get away from it all. She stared blankly at the stark white paper resting against the smooth wooden desk. Her fingers felt sore from twirling a red coated writing pencil in her hand. She clenched her fist around it in frustration, wondering how much pressure she could exert without breaking it. Yet, somehow she could have so easily snapped it through the force of her pent up emotions.

It was a grey day. The ocean stretched for miles and miles. Before her was a long rectangular window, opening out to the beach, the sea and a salty horizon. An old fisherman stood at the waters edge tending to his nets. His dog ran playfully around him this way and that, on the beach, having no regard for any opinion under the sun.

Gulls cackled in the distance. She put her pencil down and stared. In her corner of the sky, framed by the window, a golden thread of sunshine wove its way through the clouds.

She was away from it all. Far from everything that she needed time and space from to sort out. And yet the volume of her thoughts in this peaceful, cosy wooden cabin furnished with old books, patchwork blankets, and mismatched crockery, would not allow her to rest.

There were answers there that she knew she needed to find. Answers beyond the old library of books. Answers beyond the horizon and beyond every mirage of this world.

There was no noise in here except from the ticking of an old timepiece on the mantel. She could not shake her thoughts, nor quieten them. And so she opened the door and looked down the slope that led steeply to the beach, feeling the air fresh and cold upon her face. She was set on high, but not too far from the life that surrounded her, and she knew that what she needed was waiting, patiently waiting, behind her wanderings, just momently out of sight. She had come away from it all to be quiet, to be still. But the volume of her heart and of her mind told her in more than a whisper that her future, her quiet horizon, was waiting for her…..was with him. (c).

Daily Prompt: ‘Distant’

Daily Prompt – Distant

You’ve been here before. Looking out to the horizon, the wide expanse of sea and sky reaches forth to meet you, where right now you feel the sand and grit between your toes, as gentle waves lap around your feet. A gull wails in the far, far distance, and other seabirds respond with their own distinct cacophony of cackles.

You spy a razor shell covered with sand. You desire to reach down to smooth off the sand from between its intricate ridges. But the presence of seaweed draws out your hesitance, and you simply stare. You are lost in the reverie you find in the rock pools around you. A crab scuttles into view, distorting the patterns of your peaceful daydream. You lift a foot, shaking off the sand, and begin to walk away.

People come and go all around you, and yet this is your beach. You hold fast to your solitude even in this multitude. You look back to see your trail of footprints, and forwards at the untouched sand. Around you there is the vibrancy of life. Children run and play, weaving their way in and out of the patterns on the sand, splashing in the water and squealing with delight. Sandcastles are built and gleefully demolished. A red and yellow kite catches the wind, falters and then soars high into the bright blue sky as a gust triumphantly lifts it. Somewhere in the distance you can hear the clip clop of horses hooves. People walking dogs come and go, and life goes on and on in this one vibrant unfolding shared story on this beach, where everything is now.

You pull the kite string of your mind to try to both tether yourself and to fly free as you catch a fresh breeze. But this tension within you constantly flutters. Why does it seem that everything you long for is always in the distance, beyond a horizon that you can never quite arrive at?

Perhaps it is because you yourself are distant. Never fully allowing yourself to be here and now, present in the life you are living, the life that other people’s dreams are made of…..?  (c).P1110011.JPG

Of Pebbles & Pearls…

Daily Prompt – Buff

You dreamed of a life graced with the calm simplicity of a Kinkade painting. One in which sunbeams would dance and float upon the stream that gently carried you through your days.

Row, row, row your boat….”

And perhaps that is how your voyage began, once upon a time, in simpler days. Leaves fluttered and fell and were caught upstream. And Thumbelina and Tom Thumb sat cradled upon one of those leaves, waving to you happily as they drifted gently by.

Gently down the stream…”

I can see you there.  Your delicate hand upon the rough bark of that old oak tree. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. Praying….

A stray piece of driftwood bobs by and out of sight.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily…”

You cannot stand on the shore forever. There is too much adventure in your heart to let your timidity be the rope that tethers you and holds you back. And so you build for yourself a boat, and set sail gently down that playful stream.

Life is but a Dream!”

Only your stream refuses to remain calm and playful, and the tides turn.

Life on the ocean waves!”

Water crashes against the rocks of your life. You are thrown overboard. Seaweed strewn, a straggler to the shore, you are water laden, and carrying lessons heavier than the rocks.

But the pebbles around you are buff and beautiful. Years of being battered by harsh waves have made them so.  And you reach down into the rock-pools for a starfish, but find an oyster shell instead. The harsh grinding of grit and grain has birthed a gleaming pearl inside, that you know.

You are overwhelmed. In the distance you see a lighthouse, and from it the only Light you need. Overwhelmed with joyous defiance or defiant joy, you are not sure. Drenched with the fresh water of life as waterfalls find you. Buffeted, yet gloriously you shine, a sweet reflection of that Greater Light, with a depth and a smoothness that that gentler stream could never bring out in you.

This storm has passed. You are Alive!

Text copyright (c).

Photos courtesy of Google images.

 

 

 

 

Through arid flatlands of the heart

Detonate – Daily Prompt

Through arid flatlands of the heart, an innocent traverses.

She cradles a bud, fragile, explosive.

Unrelenting flames close in, anguished cries, and burning dreams

Explode around her.

Torn around her, faces of strangers, and those she held dear.

A city, a world explodes and crumbles with hate.

She holds in her palm, a bud, more powerful.

It is Love.

It is her time to detonate.  (c)rose