Day 334 Writing Short Stories

Wish

The gnawing thoughts, the little emotions, the anxious things looping inside a head. Would they be there if there were no constant bombardment for perfection, for optimization, for action? Would they sit there if there were just a moment and doing nothing?

A thought, a head composed of cultural things, shaping the chemistry and composition of the body, remembering what is not there, behaving as is wished, making a loop.

A loop of misery.

Flaw

Write a flawed character, and let the flaw be their downfall. I skipped this one because my mind went blank.

Sea

The sea swayed gently against his boots. Seas were made big. They were made unyielding, but they knew how to listen if you were kind to them. He rested his full weight on the half-rotten wooden bench propping him up as he watched the sea swallow the golden rays of the sun. He had just one wish for the sea, and that was to bring his youngest son back home alive.

The world was not perfect. It wasn’t meant to be perfect. Neither were humans. But he didn’t ask for perfection; he asked for his son’s safe passage. He was out there, in the sea, fighting a war that should never have been. It was his ask to be more than his father was.

The old nets were folded on the shore. It had been a year since he himself had gone out to sea. He now left that for those with the stamina to endure the unpredictability of the deep waters.

The sea rippled against his boots, and he watched as she rose from the water. She walked to him naked as she was meant to be, sitting next to him. Once her body would have made his heart flutter, now there was just the ask and the comfort of her presence.

“He is out there getting himself killed. I can feel it in my bones that he will die soon,” he said.

She tied her young fingers around his withered muscles. Once it hadn’t been so, once, he had looped his young arms around her and kissed her with vigor.

“Sea takes what it takes,” she said.

He hung his head. “But…” He let out to rest.

“Sea—”

“He is your son, too.”

“More of you than me. And I can only take him to my bosom if his ship sinks.”

“You are cruel.”

“I am what I am.”

“I’m not willing to give him to you yet. One more year. It’s all I ask.”

She squeezed her hand hard against his forearm.

“One more year,” he let out without force.

“If it is to be so.” She let go of his arm and stood up.

He watched her walk back to the sea. The young man in him wouldn’t have let her leave. He wouldn’t have been so demanding. He would have tied his arms around her and pulled her close to him, worshiping every inch of her. Now there was only the ache of the changing world and the losses he wasn’t willing to bear.

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

I feel like I had the idea for the concepts today, but I couldn’t quite get the words and the rhythm right. Something feels off, but I cannot fix it.

I’m leaving for Barcelona on Saturday, and I will be gone for over a week. I won’t be writing then. It feels so odd not to write, even though I have had a couple of lapses in the past few weeks, but writing is what I do every day. But I guess a break will do some good. It will get creativity flowing again.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a creative day!