November 2012

victoriansansalpha 760x100

03 November 2012

The prompts were:
1. Time stopped when the clock broke
2. A little yellow birdie with a little yellow bill
3. The wind howled and silence reigned
4. That was the sound of awesomeness exploding

Begin writing
The day had been rife with colour.  More so than normal.  The green of the sage was greener than I had ever seen before.  The sky was not only big, but it had taken on an azure hue that was a color only women know the name of, at least that was where I filed colours like this. Chartreuse and fuchsia had been there before I learned their true names.  A small yellow billed bird lit on the barbed wire fence at the property line.  His lemon coloured feathers paled in comparison to the colour of his beak and the contrast of that bird against the sienna earth was striking.  Something about that bird on that wire fence made me wish I could draw and paint.  I did a double take.  The bird was staring at me.  I could sense that he wanted to tell me something.  His beak parted and I waited for him to speak.  He didn’t though.  He did treat me to a short melody before spreading his wings and heading south.  I watched him grow smaller and smaller until he disappeared from sight.  I wonder what he wanted to say.  I could never work for Pixar or Disney as I am not one of those people who expects animals to speak or dance.  I am not one of those people who can assign human characteristics to inantimate objects but damn, that bird wanted to tell me something.  I will probably never know what though.
I turned, sighed and got back to work.  There was still a lot of fence to ride.  Maybe it was the day,  maybe it was the bird, maybe it was something else but the fence became unimportant to me.  The colours, shapes, and textures of the land were everything and all I could do was revel in the day.
Daydreams?  Maybe…
Attention Deficit Disorder? Probably…
The soul of an artist? … Doubtful, but I found that I had been engrossed in the study of brown on brown and the different lines and textures revealed
Time is up. Put down your writing implements and step away from the paper.

10 November 2012

The prompts were:
1. Regrets and mistakes, they’re memories made
2. Your lips move but I cannot hear what you are saying
3. We traded in our innocence and sacrificed our youth

Begin writing
I closed the menu and looked a the waiter hovering at my shoulder, pencil and paper at the ready, his face twisted up like a constipated pretzel. “I’ll have a bleu cheeseburger with green chili and avocado please.”
“Very good sir,” he intoned as if by rote, while the pencil scratched furiously on his pad.  It looked to me like he was drawing squiggles and squares on the paper but, as long as he got the order right, what did I care.
“Honestly, Thom” Nancy said, ” It took you that long to order that?”
“Sorry darling, I don’t want to order the wrong thing. I would regret it all night.  The last time I made that mistake I was reminded of the error of my ways all night long.  Don’t want to do that again. Especially with my delicate digestive system.”
The waiter finished his doodling and headed off to the kitchen.  Nancy smiled, “Delicate digestive system, my ass,” she said, “You can eat anything you’ve ever wanted.  You’ve always been able to do that and probably always will.”
“Yeah, I’m cursed that way” I said, ” but it really can be a problem.  Sometimes things sound great and look even better but the taste doesn’t live up to the promise.  Nothin’ worse than expecting gastronomical ecstasy and getting some gut bomb instead.  I still believe though that if I ordered it or cooked it then, by God, I’m gonna eat it.  I will search every morsel for some scrap of social redeeming value.”
Nancy grinned and shook her head, “Only you would order a cheeseburger in a seafood restaurant!  How long do you think it will take?”
“Not long, here comes Alfred now,” I pointed at our waiter who was making his way across the crowded restaurant back to our table. “He did say his name was Alfred , didn’t he?” I whispered to Nancy.
“Alfred is Batman’s butler our waiter told us his name is Seth.  Don’t you dare call him Alfred!”
Seth stopped his journey at our table, as I knew he would, “I’m sorry sir, the chef advises that the green chili’s did not arrive today.”
Time is up. Put down your writing implements and step away from the paper.

japan floral single inverted

17 November 2012

The prompts were:
1. She dropped the basket and began to march
2. They spoke softly and without clarity
3. Who will guide you in the ways of wisdom and lead you along straight paths?

Begin writing
There was an almost palatable sense of expectation in the air when we arrived.  The small crowd was seated in the “stadium” seating in the theater.  Two groups of spectators, physically divided by a center aisle. On the low stage sat and empty table with two chairs facing the audience.  A smaller desk was positioned in front of it for the moderator’s use.
There was a low buzz of conversation in the room; people murmuring and whispering to one another.  They spoke softly: so softly, in fact, that the words were unclear to me as I stood at the door.  Handing our tickets to the usher, I tried to pick up scraps of conversation around me.  Picking our way to the seats all I could hear was a completely unintelligible language; modulated on a carrier resembling the low hum of a large electric motor.
As we sat, a hush came over the room and the candidates stepped onto the dais.  There was a tall, well dressed dark woman standing next to the desk.  She spoke softly to the candidates and then turned to the audience, “Senbility anos exultabum” she said the she gestured to the candidate on her right “Elvecchio arientel.” She turned and smiled to the left, “Aristone Lomeli.” A small and polite smattering of applause ensued.
The candidates turned and retired to the chairs, obviously there for their benefit.
The dark lady leaned against the desk and studied the small crowd, ” Ariste ignobum alcatel, deringo versalla.” she summed up, turned and took her chair.
“Elvecchie, que wala estuaium hi?” she asked.
The first candidate began to speak earnestly. I did not understand a word he said. Apparently, no one else in the crowd did either, as the buzz of conversation began to grow from the audience again.
Time is up. Put down your writing implements and step away from the paper.

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