Day 83 Ruminating And writing

Torn

I exist here, torn between two worlds. I have let myself be swept into the idea of myself that I never knew to exist. This constant craving for validation, acceptance, with the hollow emptiness that comes with it, is gradually killing me. All the effort I put into being the model of the idea I have in my head is taking me farther away from who I want to be and what I value. Yet, even when I know this, all I can feel is the desire, the yearning, the need. It’s bestowed upon me. I let it nestle inside me, feeding it with all the meaningless things I find important.

Musician

He played the first note, and it felt magical. He felt his body come alive. Ever since he was a kid, he could feel the music inside him. All the notes played by nature, the streetcars, the pianist, the violinist, all came alive in him.

He stood there on the street corner, immersed in the world of his. Now and then, there came a clang of coins, telling him that someone else appreciated the magic he created. This was the only concert hall he could ever aspire to. The music lived inside him, and he had to let it into the world somehow. He could never play in the big venues. He could never be anything other than a street musician. He couldn’t read a single note. He just knew them by heart, and through his ears and body.

Elderly Women

Big Martha took her spot between the other ladies. It was an unusually hot summer day, and they had taken shelter under the huge oak tree. The big bench was moved there, and they watched as the neighborhood moved past them. There were unfamiliar faces amongst the old. A young couple had moved in last night, and they watched their goings like hawks, waiting for their prey.

The group chatted about how MR. Carpenter never came home last night, and Larissa had heard Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter row. Everything that was known to life passed in front of big Martha and her ladies. They saw all. You only had to come to them to know what was going on. They knew who was happy, who would die, who would marry, what the kids were up to, and who was mad at whom.

The Prompts are from the book A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

I would love to write more about Big Martha, but I’m not sure where it was going. I think it needs something extraordinary to happen. Maybe the couple moving in isn’t what they seem to be. Perhaps something dangerous is arriving in the neighborhood. Do you have that thing where, when you close your eyes, you can still see an idea stuck in your head, and you can play it out like a movie? I sometimes get those things with the most vivid ideas I have. When I was a kid, I used to create fantastical stories and worlds before I went to bed, full-arched stories, continuing night after night. I don’t do that anymore. I don’t know why. It used to relax me, but now, every time I try, I seem to get nowhere. But when I write these prompts or get some idea in my head, I get those vivid dreams again, faster and stronger. Maybe that’s why I love writing the prompts, and I have stuck with them.

Thank you for reading my ruminations and prompts! It’s raining here all day, so I get to stay in and just be. I wish you a beautiful day ❤