Day 115 Ruminating And Writing

Sand

It’s that weird wind at the end of the summer that is still hot with a hint of salt, moisture, and the coldness to come. I live for those winds. I watch as it sweeps over the long, strong hay and lifts the sand in the air, making little swirls. If I close my eyes, I can hear all the laughter and the sounds of people who once stood there on the shoreline, basking in the sun. But now there’s only the wind and the sea and the distant call of the seagulls.

This is my island. I was born here. Unlike the tourists, I will stay here, and I will die here. Its roots are twisted within my bones.

I drop my kimono down, letting it slide into the sand, and I dive into the cold water. My bones are here. My heart is here.

“Love is blind, deaf, and very, very sarcastic.”

I’m supposed to write about the sentence. I’m not sure what to say. It doesn’t spark a story in me. For me, it’s a dead sentence made for other people.

Dark Forest

The woman appeared out of nowhere. She stood there in her white gown, like a phantom. He was instructed to meet here and collect the package in the middle of the godforsaken forest at midnight. This was to be his test of loyalty.

“What the fuck?” he said.

The woman tilted her head and seemed to measure him.

“Do you have the package?” he asked when the woman said nothing.

She tilted her head along with his words, and then her mouth opened into a huge gaping wound with needle-sharp teeth.

He ran, cursing under his breath. But the woman was faster and stronger. She knocked him onto the mossy ground. “You are the package, the sacrifice for safe passage,” she whispered and sank her teeth into him.

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

I don’t know why, but I skipped writing the prompts yesterday. As I opened Scrivener, the first thing I saw was my sci-fi book, and I jumped straight into editing it. However, I never got around to writing the prompts.

I will take the end of the week off too, as I visit my family up north again.

Writing today’s prompts was strange. I got stuck in the mood of the first one, and it was hard to switch to the others and try to figure out what was going on in them. I think I’m still stuck with the first one. There’s this longing in me that needs to belong to a land. Not a land with lawns and flower beds. A real land, with bones that run deep into the earth. One day I have that, or I hope I do. There’s this restlessness in the air, a sense that one more sparkle and the world we know won’t be the same. I hope we all survive that. I hope it never comes, but I fear the great ones don’t care if we survive or not, and if we suffer or not. They want their conflicts, their money, their power at any cost. I hope I’m wrong, and there is time to twist my bones with a land I can call my own.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a wonderful day!