Day 218 Ruminating And Writing Short Stories

Home

The spiders crept into all the corners. The dust had settled on the floor years before. Every cabin, every door, every floorboard was crooked. There was bird poop everywhere, and the windows were broken. Despite the disarray, she had never felt more at home.

Marie counted all the spider species she found and named their genus. There were at least five on display. She would let them stay. An old superstition held that spiders brought good luck into the house. And she, more than anything, knew that the old superstitions held true. In her home, it would. Her home would be different. Her home wouldn’t be made of marble and glass. It would be made of solid wood and earth. It would draw its power from the soil and sun. It would be her hideaway for the world under the tall oak trees.

Marie had found her happiness by chance, not through destiny. She didn’t believe in destinies, even when her cards could read them. If you let the universe guide you, it will guide you, but you can always carve your own path. Her home was her own path. She had worked hard to obtain it and worked hard to get away.

The main room would serve as her workshop, where she painted, brewed, sowed, and studied. It would remind those who wandered in of a witch’s cottage. They would draw strength, health, and peace just by setting foot in it. She would make this place a sanctuary for all lost and found, just like the place would be for her.

She measured putting one foot over the other. It would be perfect. Marie closed her eyes and imagined all the cabins, all the work desks, all the floorboards straightened, and all the windows mended with colorful glass. When she opened her eyes, the room was just as she had dreamed.

She smiled. Marie was no mere hedge witch. She was a real sorcerer. The power ran through her veins. It could morph realities with a price. The price she had paid for the perfect house had been a year off her life. But it was worth the cost. Death came to all, and one year was a good deal for the sanctuary it would bring to everyone.

She could hear their footsteps already. Their pleas for her help. She could hear their whispers and prayers. The women of the village, not too far from her cottage, had called her here. She was as much an answer to their torments as they were to hers. Without community, a witch couldn’t survive. They would be her coven, and she would devote her life to serving them. She would make the cottage as much home to them as it was to her—home with a heart that beat in the rhythm of the earth.

Breakup

A breakup scene.

Ex-Boss

A woman goes drinking with her friends after getting fired and finds herself in bed with her ex-boss the next morning.

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

Today, I only managed to write the Home prompt. I didn’t feel like trying to twist the two other prompts to my taste, so I skipped them. Nevertheless, I’m happy that I wrote today. Like the cottage to the witch, writing is home to me. If I put even a few words together, the day feels like it has meaning, and my mind rests. The same goes for reading. I need to read a few words every day to feel centered. I found a fantastic book by accident. It is called Dark Skies: A Journey into the Wild Night by Tiffany Francis. The book is about the world after midnight and the nature that comes to life after people go to sleep. It is about the stories we tell about night. The book is a travel narrative and a meditation on the writer’s personal relationship with night. It is so beautifully written and so compelling that I have a hard time putting it down before I go to sleep. It makes me want to stay up all night and see what happens when the world goes quiet and the stars shine their brightest.

Thank you for reading ❤ I hope you find your home today!