Day 90 Ruminating And Writing

Glaze

She smoothed her fingers over the glazed tiles. They had come to the ancient ruins this morning, and she was marveling at the Roman work. History was amazing. It reminded her that human ingenuity fueled civilizations. She thought of all the arts, the buildings, the customs of her time. What would some future person think of her time? Would there be anything left of modern art or digital books? Would they find them, or was it all the rubbish heaps and the plastic toys that were left of her?

Teddy Bears

She arranged her teddy bears in a row in front of the closet. There was an army of twelve bears ready for the night to come. She slipped into bed with her hockey stick to wait for her parents to come and kiss her goodnight. She made her parents pick up all the bears they had knocked over. They left little concern about the strange arrangement and her adamant demands to leave the bears alone.

Then she closed her eyes and waited. There it was, the sound she had heard every night for a month: the creaking door, the claws scraping against it, and the shallow breaths.

She squeezed her around the hockey stick and jumped up on the bed. “Ready, bears,” she shouted.

The fluffy bears grew tall, wide, and angry. Their roars could be heard around the room. They stood there between her and the monster that sneaked into her room every night. The darkened being with elongated arms and hollow eyes let out a screech.

“Do you think I will succumb without a fight?” she shouted and waved the hockey stick over her head.

“Bears attack,” she added.

The bears marched towards the creature slowly and steadily. Their feet stomped on the ground, sending shock waves. The monster tried to close the closet door, but the first bear got to it and yanked it open. The rest of the bears dragged the monster out and crushed it.

She screamed her encouragements, instructions to her army, and in no time, the enemy was vanquished.

The bears returned to their spot, and she lowered back to her bed, drawing the cover over her. She would sleep well tonight. She smiled, squeezing her hockey stick.

Lazy Sunday

The cat lunged on the narrow sunbeam, coming through the cracked open window, letting in the warm summer breeze. She lay there next to the cat, stroking its fur slowly, spreading her fingers along its silky fur. She had no hurry to be anywhere. She knew it. The cat knew it. They took their time. She watched its belly rise slowly up and down, and it purred gently.

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

Writing is still painful. The wrist is better, but not well. So I leave my ruminations short, as already writing this much puts a constraint on my wrist.

Thank you for reading! Have a lovely lazy Sunday ❤