Day 108 Ruminating And Writing

Forgotten

The path navigated between the tall oaks that shadowed the narrow road. The road had long since been forgotten. The undergrowth had grown tall and strong, and she had to cut her way through it. But her maps and the old books told her that there once had been a keep here. The aerial pictures showed that there had been massive earthworks done centuries ago, before the oaks had grown so tall.

She pushed through the undergrowth, swatting off the insects that tried to suck her dry. She tried not to scratch the bites and drop her map. The path was getting thicker by every kilometer she walked. There had not been a better way in. The hike felt like an eternity, yet it was as if she had started it a moment ago, as if time had stood still.

The tall oaks gave way to her, and the ground began rising higher. The steps up the hill made her calves ache from fatigue. She collapsed at the top of the mount, feeling the grassy ground underneath her. She concentrated on the treelines, waiting for her strength to return and the sticky, sweaty feeling to subside in the light breeze. She was sure she had found her earthwork. Now she would have to look for the stones. She would lie there a little longer. Underneath her was history. Somewhere here, ancient people had gone on with their lives. They had hunted, gathered, built, made art, and lived not knowing what the future would bestow — that someday someone like her would look for their bones and wonder what kind of life they had lived.

Sound

Hoot, hoot, hoot, came from above her. She lifted her gaze to meet the treetops. The owl was hiding somewhere. It was hard to see from the dark treetops as the sun had already set. She had shut her headlamp not to disturb the nightlife of the forest.

The tree trunk felt comfortable underneath her. She waited quietly for the badgers to come out. She had heard from her father that he had spotted a few coming out of the forest. While the night was too dark to photograph them, she had still set up her equipment, being content even to glimpse the badger family.

She sat on her tree trunk patiently waiting for the forest to come alive.

Love Story

I don’t want to. Why can’t I push myself to write love stories? What is wrong with me? I could make this one a love story between two ghosts. I have been watching the TV show School Spirits. For a teen drama, it is pretty good. I got hooked up, needing to know who killed the main character. But I guess I will pass on writing a love story yet again.

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

I’m in a good mood. I have slept well. The weather is a few degrees colder. I cuddled with my cat before writing.

I sometimes wish I were an adventurer instead of a climber. I would go on these long hikes to map animals and insects, or to find keeps and castles. Sometimes, climbing feels like an individualistic, selfish sport that concentrates on the irrelevant. And nowadays there is a huge clothing industry around it and people dress up to sweat and do the boulders. I don’t have a point here. Something in the climbing industry has started bugging me.

My cat came to poke his nose against mine. He is trying to tell me it is his feeding time, and he is not very subtle about it.

See you tomorrow, hopefully. Thank you for reading ❤ Have an adventurous day!