Their exploits inspired future generations…
My mind went blank as I stared at the page, pen hovering an inch above.
I watched the ink slowly crawl down the nib and pool at the tip threatening to spill over.
I sighed and felt frustrated with the cobwebs in my head tangling up the adventures I knew were waiting there for me to write.
The ink finally dripped and splattered abstractly on the unlined paper meant to be the backdrop for my next masterpiece, or first, depending on your perspective.
The puddle ran out in all directions forming shapes and scenes, still obscured by my foggy awareness.
Little dark figures birthed suspenseful journeys on cross-country trains, in twin-engine planes above The Alps, and sailed the high seas until forced to walk the plank. Black holes swallowed them up as a sword point persuaded them to make the leap through time and space among the stars. They landed on a station inhabited by races from across galaxies and were enhanced with robotics to make living in any atmosphere possible.
Their exploits inspired future generations to take risks to inhabit the Earth once more. They built primitive tree houses, in which to raise their young, and learned to thrive off the land.
Suddenly the families, animals, and land once again merged into a lifeless, muddy lake in the center of my sheet. I was sad to see them go.
My head fell forward, and I dropped my pen. I caught myself before landing my face in the inkblot.
I couldn’t remember what I dreamt. What a mess of wasted ink!
Curse this writer’s block!
– Written for The Daily Post. Daily word prompt was “blank.” Photo from Pixabay.com.
It has been 14,235 days since my captivity began, since the day I was born.
The illusion of freedom calms anxious minds and gives one something to believe in, something to fight for.
Rules and laws and expectations confirm freedom is imagined. The universe will right itself when something tries to defy the rules.
Understanding limitations is the only way to experience a sense of freedom. Freedom exists in the mind.
I remove myself from the flow of the world and step outside the limitations to experience true freedom.
I rest my fingers on the keyboard then begin to type.
– Written for Writers Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge. Prompt was “freedom.” I used a quote by Albert Camus for inspiration. WC 100. Photo from Wikipedia.
“He claims to be a writer,” I said to my friend as we watched through the kitchen window.
“Mmm hmm.” She said and sipped her tea. “That explains it.”
He dances naked in the rain every so often, but I never bother to report him. He seems so happy, and I honestly couldn’t care one way or the other.
He was arrested once and then back at it the very next day. It was the rainy season, so he had plenty of opportunities.
He was particularly old in years, but obviously young at heart. My friend and I agree that we hope to be so carefree in our later years. We thought that maybe we should take a writing class.
– Written for The Blog Propellant’s On-line Writer’s Guild #11 sentence/phrase prompts: 1. He claims to be a writer. 2. Naked in the rain…3. And then, the very next day…WC 120. Photo from Pexels.com.
The coffee arrived and my usual, The Bovine’s Udder Delight, was being prepared.
I’ve always enjoyed having Sunday brunch downtown at The Painted Cow, on the corner of Vine and Henderson. The girls there knew me by name and saved my favorite outside table for me every week. I hung my tote from the chair and sat in the shade of the two brightly painted cows that stood guard over me. The coffee arrived and my usual, The Bovine’s Udder Delight, was being prepared. I took out my notebook and began people watching for inspiration.
The innocence of children,
The courage of youth,
The sensibility of adulthood,
The wisdom of age,
Meet at the crossroads for a quick respite.
The painted cows welcome all who wish to rest in their shadows.
I looked up from my writing in time to notice a child smiling and pointing at my reverent guardians. We briefly made eye contact so I smiled back and gave him a quick wave, which he responded to with a giggle and shyly hid his face in his mother’s hair.
The cows continued to observe silently.
– Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: 59th Challenge. WC 174
Photo prompt provided by S. Writings.