Day 93 Ruminating And Writing

Cross

The two roads crossed each other. It was said that if you looked carefully, sideways, cross-eyed, you could see the Devil at midnight in the intersection. If you were brave enough, you could make a deal of a lifetime. So the story went. So it had gone for centuries, told by one generation to another, whispered before bedtime. Everyone in the town knew the story. Everyone had been tempted at one time or another. So it was. So it would ever be. Dreams were meant to come true.

That was why she was there, sitting in the bushes. She glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to midnight. She would know the truth. She had her cameras set up all around the spot from different angles, so that she could catch a glimpse from the recordings what she didn’t see with her mere eyes.

She felt every minute ticking by. The nausea came with it. What if it were true? What if the Devil were real? What would that mean for her life? Would she have to turn Catholic? Did it mean that?

She felt the nausea rise. Every noise the woods next to her made made her jump. It was just the branches and the brushes living their lives. But still, she glanced over her shoulder ever so often.

It was a minute until midnight. She held her breath, watching the crossroad without blinking. The camera next to her started recording. She bit her lip as she waited for the Devil to appear.

The minute prolonged, and she fought against the urge to look away. It was like the world had stopped. There was no noise. No breeze of any sort. There was only the stifled moment. She blinked, and in that fleeting second, she was sure she had seen a man there, winking at her, but when she looked again, there was nothing.

The minute passed midnight, and the world exploded with noises. The midnight birds sang again, and the gentle breeze rustled the leaves over her. She waited there a minute or two longer, but nothing happened.

At home, reviewing the recordings revealed nothing. Only the camera next to her had gone haywire, trying to focus in and out of the intersection just at midnight.

Pumpkin

The sweet pumpkin boy dancing down the street
The sweet pumpkin boy only lives on Hallows Eve
The sweet pumpkin boy is so full of charm
The sweet pumpkin boy dancing down the street

Baker

Oh, baker, baker, how I love you
Your sweet pies, your cakes, the flour in the air
Oh, baker, baker, please notice me

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

I hurt my wrist again yesterday as I took out my work computer from the backpack. It hurt so bad. But I’m glad that the wrist is okay enough to write without pain. I need to hurry again, which also means that I haven’t been able to edit my sci-fi book. The few days’ pause from working on it is gnawing at me. I don’t seem to have the stamina for it even after I come home from work. The best time for me to write is in the mornings, before everyone wakes up and I have to attend to my duties. I have written occasionally in the evenings, but somehow it doesn’t feel right. I’m a morning lark, clearly, and prefer my solitude to write.

Thank you for reading! I hope you had those extraordinary adventures yesterday. Have a good day ❤