Day 97 Ruminating And Writing

Famine

Industrial crops began to fail one after another worldwide. No one knew what was going on. The crops dried on the ground despite irrigation. Only small patches of home farms were spared, but it wasn’t enough to feed the population. People started fighting.

Now, a year later, we still don’t know what happened to the crops. It’s still impossible to farm on an industrial level. The world looks nothing like it was back then. The societies came down. There’s chaos left.

I have been moving slowly down the coastline to find a place to settle and set up a little farm, but there are still people left who think violence and slavery are answers to all their problems. I mostly travel by night. Alone. I had someone, but they died. Death feels so normal after the famine. Hunger too. The days when I could just walk into a restaurant and order anything seem like a dream. It happened to someone else. There is no left of that man in me, who could indulge himself with everything his heart desired. This apocalypse feels like a divine punishment, but even in here, in this hell, I can’t make myself believe in God. I believe in my feet, my sword, and my gun.

Perspective

This is too big a prompt to write. Write a story from three different perspectives.

Shadow

She scooped the sand into her bucket. The other children were playing on the swings and the merry-go-round. She had been building sand pits all morning. She laughed at the jokes her shadow was making. It was telling nasty things about the other children and their parents, who were watching their precious kids under the shade.

“I know, she’s one bat short of crazy,” she replied to her shadow.

The shadow let out a hollow laugh.

At first, when her shadow started speaking, she was spooked, wondering what if the others would hear, but only she seemed to hear what the shadow said. It followed her around everywhere. The playground was its favorite place. It liked to pick on the other children. She listened and laughed, but for now, she had avoided commenting. The other kids no longer played with her. She was glad about it. They were all dull.

She made the little soldiers drown under a sand avalanche.

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

Sometimes I wonder why I write these things. But on other occasions, it feels like I have learned so much and they have brought back my love of writing, so I keep going. Writing these prompts is onerous before I have to go to work. On those days, I’m reminded that creativity demands time and space to concentrate and relax. Still, I find it beneficial that I can write under time constraints and pressure. It might come in handy someday.

Today, my prompts were short. I got the idea instantly. I found it hard to continue writing more. I’m not sure why. The heat is bearable at this moment. The wrist is still broken, but it doesn’t hinder writing. I’m not in any hurry to go anywhere. It’s like my mind isn’t as verbose as it could be.

Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day ❤