Zanny

Write on Wednesdays: ZanyZany, adj.
amusingly unconventional or idiosyncratic.

This week, try to find the zany in your life, or just create the zany in someone else's. Feel free to write a fictional quirky character, or take inspiration from your own life. Wherever the prompt takes you, a letter, poem, song, anything you feel like writing. Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links to enjoy others writing. The linky will be open from Monday to Friday.



I went a different route with this prompt than usual. I tried my hand at a children's story - sort of! Ha ha! Thanks to Claire for taking over WoW this week!

The peas and mashed potatoes lay untouched as the old man examines his surroundings. Sunlight peeps through the cream colored sheer curtains and bounces off the silverware that fills the table. He sighs as the reflection of the light blinds him with uncertainty. He waits.

The sunlight diminishes as the peas grow colder and the mashed potatoes mold into a clay like formation. A drink is unnecessary for him; it takes the taste and the desire out of the particles in the food.

His eyes began to widen with eagerness as the sun went to sleep. Rays of pink and bright orange filled the evening sky, but there was still something that was missing. The untouched food was beginning to fill the room with unwanted smells. Still, the elder man fixated on the tranquil scene in front of him.

Suddenly, he let out a gasp of air. Excitement ran through his veins and filled his heart with joy.
“Okay, it’s time! You can have your dinner!” The old man bellowed.

Out from behind his chair popped a grizzly looking creature. Maybe a bear? Maybe a wolf? It was something peculiar with hair growing out of its body and fingernails as long as the kitchen table.

The creature flopped in the chair beside his elder friend and ate everything but the kitchen itself. Even the fork and spoon was gone.
“Could you at least leave me the silverware?” The elder man said with a chuckle in his voice.

Field of Dreams

The Write on Wednesday Spark: Small expectationsAs I am thinking about education and learning, kindergarten and university, I have taken this week's writing exercise from one of my early childhood books. It is an activity I do with small children and one that always inspires so I thought it would be fun to see what the exercise inspires in adults. So, your prompt is: Imagine yourself as tiny as your thumb.Where would you live? What would you do?

I twisted the prompt a tiny bit and wrote a nonfiction piece about my life as a seven year old. I will admit ahead of time, nonfiction is NOT my best attribute, but I do love having a challenge. :)

I sat in a field of enchanting dreams; soaring grasses from Jack and the Beanstalk to lost buttons from a bear named Corduroy. The sunlight bounced off my skin, creating a blanket of everlasting warmth. I was seven; a child of nature’s imagination. Poetic stanzas grew tall within my mind as if it were Wordsworth himself whispering words of wisdom to me.

 I formed a devotion to nature, to life, and to imagination. Rocks were painted with colors of uncertainty and created with a personal canvas that told stories of Indian tribes. Leafs were also sacred in my world. I wanted to savor the veins that once seeped water pellets through the spine of the tree. I pressed each leaf into a journal and kept the memory alive.

Kickball was my sport of choice. Pushing each muscle that formed between my thigh and leg, I made sure the ball was nowhere in sight. The grasses of the field scratched the surface of my legs each time the ball rolled towards my position. I would come home with marks of love from the grasses embracing my legs.

The field of dreams also carried a night life of music. I waltzed with the sounds of crickets and katydids that were speaking a fresh language of affection. The stars of the night told stories of souls that found peace in another life.  I felt home; safe in the arms of the tall grasses and the faraway music of the night. I go there in my dreams, remembering each delicate detail that encouraged me to write and imagine.

A Letter

The Write on Wednesday Spark: Dear...This week's writing exercise is to write a letter. Write an open letter or write to someone more specific. Write a letter between two fictional characters or write a letter into a fictional piece you are already working on. Think  about how differently you write depending upon who you are writing to. Your content in an open letter may differ to content in a private letter.

I am working on a sci-fi related story, so I struggled a bit with this prompt. But I tied it in with the story and came out with something unique. :)


My confusion led me to write an imaginary letter to the woman with no name. I had a vast amount of unusual questions. Minerals of compounds that formed within my brain needed a solution to this cryptic problem. I began my letter with questions, difficulties in learning things as to what it was I was supposed to see. 

You are different, unique, and angelic. I seem to bask in your glow as you promenade through the marshlands. My anger subsides when you are near, but my confusion remains with me. I want to know things - to understand who you are. You speak with silence and though I can not hear your words aloud, I feel them when your eyes dance across me. Curiosity must take you to a place that you have never been. Ask me things, for I will tell you what you want to discover.
 I too am curious. I am sealed into a womb of darkness and left without any answers. What is this place that we are building? I cannot help but wonder how I lived through the treacherous war and begin to create a new life with just silence. Where are we?

Everything that I asked within my head stirred up a mix of emotions. I began to cry and bury my head in the sands. The nightlife began to fall upon me and nothing but the waves of the ocean were heard.

Nature's Treasure

The Write on Wednesday Spark:  Possessing Beauty
Write about a collection. Write about something you or ,someone you know, collects. Think about the "why" behind the collection - why is it important to collect this particular thing? How does it make the person feel to add another piece to their collection? Is the group of objects there to be seen, to be studied or simply kept together? Write a real life story or a piece of fiction. Wherever the prompt takes you...Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links. Oh, and enjoy!


The ginkgo trees were swaying profusely as the wind gusted to a more heavier tone. I couldn’t catch my breath. It was as if the wind was holding me in its arms and flying me to a fresh, untouched place. Suddenly, the elegant woman with no name appeared before me. Her elongated, flowing brown locks danced with the wind. She did not notice my fragile state of fear. Her eyes fixated on the fan like leaves as they meshed onto the ground. She delicately picked each leaf up, treating them as if they were a newborn baby.

There was a box that had been settled in the ground for quite some time. I had stumbled upon it when I was rummaging around to find nourishment. It was locked and frozen beneath the sands of time.
After the serene creature finished picking up natures offspring, she opened the box without hesitation.

The leafs were placed carefully within the entrapment. Her glowing face started to shift as she continued to run her fingers through each particle of the green plant. I could sense a bit of nostalgia from this woman. She had a longing desire of something that was unknown.
She quickly finished with the last leaf and buried the box of natures treasures. Within seconds, she vanished into thin air.

My mind raced with curiosity and then I began to appreciate the concept of this woman’s desire to rescue the leaf. Nature was delicate, a flowing piece of lace billowing in the wind; and it needed to be saved.

The Nature of a Place

The Write on Wednesday Spark - The nature of place
Think about a place in nature that feels special to you. Perhaps it is somewhere you visited as a child. Or maybe you share a special outdoor space with your own children. This place, this space will be your prompt for this week's writing exercise. Write about a particular natural geography, a natural place or space close to your heart. Tell us about the weather, the landform , the creatures who live there, what the place means to you and why. You can write prose fiction, poetry, non-fiction and/or a photographic narrative. You might mix the landscape with a personal story. Wherever the prompt take you...Let us peek into your place. 


This part of the piece was inspired by Savannah, Georgia. I went there a few weeks ago for my 23rd birthday. I was surrounded by glorious oak trees and was in awe of the entire area. Though this was inspired by a real place, I have imagined a few things and continue to write this story. It's a bit sci-fi ish....

*****Edited with a photo I took in Savannah, Georgia

The land that was stretched out before me was new. It had a smell of a fresh life, a new beginning, a rebirth to all things. Microscopic threads of grass patched me together in a lawn of quilts. The strands of lush green wrapped around me as if it was to release the toxic chemicals that were still etched in my body. At first, I felt melancholy, but I began to feel a sense of relief.

My weary eyes wondered through the home of the trees. I stayed in a moment of wonder and tranquility as I watched the sun pierce through the Spanish moss. I felt the tenderness of the sunlight embrace my face; kissing me as if I were a lover, a mistress of devotion. The trees were fiber optic, leaving me with a bit of blindness to the naked eye.

The light filled my sores of toxins. I felt alive for the first time. My veins filled my body with life and released elements of love to my thriving heart. There was something here for me. A rebirth to all things was appearing and I was chasing it through the strands of trees.

I looked beyond what was in front of me and there she was; the elegant creature that saved me from death.

A Tree Filled With Stories

The Write on Wednesday spark: The stories a tree could tell.Take a look at the above photo (by Story). Use it to inspire your Write on Wednesday post. Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links in the list. Enjoy!  



The morning air was buoyant and crisp. It was enough to break the skin on my face. I bundled up with my white knitted scarf and made my way towards the shallow lands. There lay a bare tree, broken in half with decayed sticks meshing through the marsh. I had passed this tree many times while doing my morning walks on the beach. It was as if the tree had spoke to me in whispers of a long life. Today, its voice was a shrill echo.

I began to imagine this tree as if it were still standing. It was then I had a moment of realization that this would be my photography lesson for myself. This tree was more than an element of broken sticks; this tree was still thriving.

I rushed immediately into the beach house and rummaged through my boxes to get my camera. I strapped my camera to its string and wrapped it securely around my neck. I realized that I had not taken a decent photograph since I left New York. It was time to make a transformation.

Black and white photographs were always my favorite. They seemed to have more color to them than what they seemed. I decided to shoot this tree in black and white. I wanted to capture the fragile points of the tree and paint the roughness of the edges in an imaginary hue of light.

Two Turtledoves

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 27 -  Mel suggested that we look at the "12 Days of Christmas" poem/song and select one of the days/lines for our writing inspiration. So, whether a Partridge in a Pear Tree or Five Golden Rings, write your line at the top of your page, set your timer for 5 minutes and write the first words that come into your head.

I took the "Two Turtledoves" line from the Christmas song. Enjoy!

A sacred bird you are
The life of symbols wrapped within your wings surface
I begin to lay.

Flying through the night of wonder
We only exist if we are together
The moon shapes our color; a glow of uncertainty

A crack in the sky opens
Drips of water fill our mouths
Thirsty with passion; avid for life.

We fly to the tree tops
Greenery surrounds our wings of devotion
Darkness of the night develops a face

Scales of reflection are left behind us;
Feathers of another life fall
Our wings in twine, and together
We fly.

Illume

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 26 - Look at the photo at the top of this post. What does it inspire in you? Set your timer for 5 minutes. With the photo in mind, write the first words that come into your head until the buzzer rings. If you aren't a visual person, you could try lighting a few candles and writing by candlelight. Different sensory experiences can be useful for inspiring creative writing so please play around to make the prompt suit your writing needs. If you do try writing by candlelight, let us know. I'd love to know how it works for you!

I had to write this piece in a bit of a rush, for I am nearing the end of my semester in College. Professors just LOVE to cram right before the Holidays!
This will be a continuation of an ongoing story that I have been working on. I wanted to leave the piece with some questions..... Enjoy!


The night was full of curiosity and unexpected events. Lightning bugs chased the moon that was forever illuminating with passion. She made her way towards the forest, entangling herself with a few fines. Ivy and thorns traced the nights path, but her heart kept telling her to move forward.

With a moment of distress, she suddenly saw a radiance of light that was bright enough to see miles away.
“A forest fire?” she thought to herself.

No. It was a field of vanilla scented candles - a pool of exotic fire. Her mind was racing along with her heart. Could it be her lover? A man that she thought was forever gone?

As she made her way to the field of glow, her pearly white dress was now sticking to her body. Sweat was dripping off of her as if it were wet paint. Her hands trembled while her mind was eager to find out if her lover had came back. To her, it was agony. Her lover had disappeared nearly a year ago. Candles were the only secret they had.

She crept closer towards the candles and heard a man’s voice. She turned around and yelped with terror. A face that she did not recognize stood before her.

Blinding

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 25 - I heard a song on the radio during the week and I thought the lyrics would make an interesting prompt for WoW. So, write the words "The saddest thing I ever heard" on your page, set your timer for 5 minutes and write the first words that come into your head based on the given prompt.

This piece is about a young woman who is literally lost in a dream. When she wakes up from her dream, she discovers that she is blind......Happy reading!

Spring had finally arrived and Celia was ready to experience the fresh aroma of the flowers that were in bloom. Tulips, lilies, and buttercups bordered the fortress, creating an illusion of a flowerbed. She immediately imagined herself swimming in the ocean of petals, backstroking with each bloom in hand.

Birds began to swoop down and embrace her with their melodies. A song of a new life was starting to complete the spring air. Celia stretched out her delicate hands to motion for a blue jay to keep her company. The wings of the bird were wounded, but he flew to her as if she was his nurturing mother.

Bumble bees were circling around the prospering flowers, while looking for a place to receive their nectar. Celia watched them as they drank from the core of the flower. Her almond shaped eyes began to drip softly with tears. She could hear a clock ticking, slower at first, but strident with each tick. Suddenly, everything started to turn gray like ash.

The flowers were no longer in bloom. They withered away as if they were being melted with a torch. There were no birds swarming in the sky. Celia could no longer hear the mellow sounds of the blue jays. The yellow bumble bees that were hungry for their nectar were no where in sight.

With the confusion that Celia was experiencing, the ticking of the clock became louder. She then began to hear a man talking - a person’s voice that she did not identify.

“Celia, I am doctor Neeson. I am going to do everything I can to help you through this process.”

Celia shouted out with confusion, but later calmed herself down to ask the one question she needed the answer to.

“Why can’t I see anything?”

Rebirth

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 24 - This week is  a Choose Your Own Adventure week. Look to your left...In my sidebar you will find a list of the WoW writing exercises. Pick a prompt that takes your fancy and  make it work for you. Maybe you will work on your NaNo story or another writing project or perhaps just a bit of creative exploration. You might even like to share your favorite book genre with us and then use the prompt to work on a similar theme.

Since this week was a choose your own adventure exercise, I went with a writing prompt in one of my favorite writing books; Writing Begins with the Breath By: Laraine Herring. This book is all about relaxing the mind as well as helping with specific writing themes. Here is the exercise:

Just for a moment, give into the notion that you are empty. You are a hollow chamber for breath. Sit with that image. You’re clean. Clear. No baggage from your past. Freewrite on this topic.

I am a naked woman who is forlorn within this world. My fingers stand out before me and I am captivated with each finger that is present. The fingernails are shaped ever so elegantly. Miniature hairs unfold along my arms. I see bumps that are forming on my skin and a jolting shiver is felt within my body. I know that this means I am exposed to frigid air. How did I come to know this knowledge?

I feel a vibration that beats within my body. The loudness of the thump chases after me as I walk more rapidly on this labyrinth. I try to find a piece of cloth to cover my developed breasts, but I am left with nothing but a portion of earth. I found some jasmine on the other side of the land. As I covered myself with the blossoming shrubs, I was drowning in the scent of the fragrance that was before me. My eyes began to fill up with water. This was somehow related to the intoxicating scent from the shrubs. I was still confused of how I learned how to connect the two pieces together.

The trail of the fertile earth was beginning to end, and I was taken to a place that was full of dark soil and ultramarine water. Microscopic pellets of sand were flowing over my feet, tracing each toe with the grains of the terrain. I initiated my laughter that was too faint to hear because of the roaring tides of the ocean. I began to look out to the wide mouth of the deep sea that stood before me. I was lost, a stray that needed to find a key back home. Or was this my home?

We Are Learning To Make Fire

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 23 - Write the words of Margaret Atwood at the top of your page "We are learning to make fire". Set your timer to 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Stop when the buzzer rings.
I went a different route with this one. Though still trying to keep the prompt. As always, I love a good challenge. Hope all of you enjoy reading this! :)

I glide along the paved streets, taking in the fragments of the earth that surround me. Night lights of a neon glow converse in languages of a tiredness that I cannot seem to notice. Cars are fleeting down the streets with their music of choice. The late night conversations of left over dinners pass me by.

A couple who seem to be in the arms of the ocean, are looking at me with such oddity. This woman flounders in the ocean, waiting for her husband to save her. She feels as though love has escaped through her pores, evaporating with every second she has left on this earth. I avoid the fluid conversation with them and continue to walk towards my humble path.

Rusted mailboxes pour with unopened letters. A night of a grief stricken mother who is in fear she has lost her son. No words of coming home or see you soon written for days. The tears will soon trickle from her face as if they were a permanent marking. I still strive towards my shelter.

A map that was perhaps buried in the cracks of a building, fell from the sky. A hidden treasure lost in the depths of life, will soon be discovered. The map landed on your feet and I looked into the eyes of my future. I could feel the earth shatter, but yet everything was still.

We walked together with silent wonder. The park was our stopping point. Trees and moss surrounded us as if we were in a lagoon. Everything was quiet and still, except my heart. My spirit felt a warmth that I had never known. It was as if you were teaching me how to build my own fire - a spark that never would go out.  In that moment, I knew that I was home.

Horizon

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 22 - Select a piece of music that reflects the mood of writing you'd like to aim for. Press play. Start free writing. Write the first words that come into your head. When the music's over, so is the writing. I'd recommend finding out how long the song is before you start the exercise. You may feel cheated in your writing time if you pick a song by The Ramones. Of course, if you feel like writing a short, punky piece by all means, go for it!

This is week 13 for me. My piece tells a story about two people meeting at a New Years festival...except there is a bit of a mystery to this at the end. I apologize for this being a yoga video. LOL. I could not find the full length of this song anywhere, so this was my only choice. Also, I am a bit under the weather, so it is very possible that I have typed something that does not make sense. LOL
The song is called "Horizon" By Garth Stevenson.

Our eyes meet from across the room as if a magnet has forced me to gaze at you. I can feel my body wanting to walk towards you, but I am at a stand still. I memorize your face, your hands, your body. My eyes trace every inch, recollecting thoughts of us that have happened before. Perhaps in another life?

You slowly move away from the crowded room and make your way towards me. My heart pumps blood throughout my veins faster than what is normal. I forget that I am surrounded by people in this room. It is a room filled with silver streamers and balloons of  hope.

The clock starts the countdown. We are nearing a new year and perhaps a rebirth of life. We finally take our steps and meet. Our eyes stay connected to each other as if we are anxious of losing a moment. You take my hand and we dance a rhythm of poetry. No words escape from our lips; but words flow from our bodies.
A language of silent need and lust begin to surface.

Seconds are nearing the exit of an old year. I am still dancing with the ticking of each second - not loosing any movement with our bodies. Your hands gradually move across my lips. I quiver at the thought of you kissing me. Happy New Year is shouted from all across the room and I quickly glance up to see the commotion.

You are gone but I can still feel the movements of your body against mine. A dance that speaks poetic stanzas will forever remain in my mind.

I Thought I Saw

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 20 - Write the words " I thought I saw" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Don't take you pen off the page (or fingers off the keyboard). Stop only when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.

This is week 12 for me and I fell in love with this exercise. Though I do not have children, this piece was about me seeing my child in the future. Hope all of you will enjoy reading this as I did writing it.

I thought I saw you smile as if it were for the first time. Your innocent cerulean eyes squinted beneath your nose as you beamed with delight. Tiny hands began to coil around mine – taking a hold of me as if you were troubled about the future. You were afraid of the dark – the gloomy night that surrounded you.

You thought you saw a monster; a gangly creature that hid beneath your bed. Nothing but dust bunnies and wild treasures of imagination lay underneath the surface of the floor. I scooped you up and placed you in my arms. I could feel the balminess of you heating every fiber of my heart. The scent of baby powder escaped from your skin and I breathed in every moment of innocence I had with you.

The night was still lengthy and quiet. Your sluggish eyes started to close and drift into a realm of imagination. I placed you back into your bed and watched as you gently snoozed. This was a moment that kept me awake, for I would be afraid of missing seconds with you.

You woke the next morning to convey your creative dreams – a bunny with elongated ears hopping to tell you about a dinosaur that came to town. I would giggle as you would embrace me with your character of life. Your skin glowed as the sun braced your face. I felt a sense of sorrow wash over me. I knew that someday I would have to let you go.

You would grow up to be a handsome young man. Perhaps an intellectual doctor or a painter that splashed romance on a canvas would be your profession of choice. You would dance into the arms of a lover and marry for the first time.

I thought I saw a boy who cached rays of sunshine in a bucket. A petite child with such a vast heart would embrace my world – a child that I would call my son.

Enraptured Lagoon

My 11th week for the WOW exercises. This week we are to use the line "Sunshine in a cup" by Emily Dickenson and write what comes to mind.
Though I usually write poetry, I am trying to escape from my normal realm for awhile and write a bit of fiction. This is simple yet a bit mysterious. Hope you all will enjoy reading it as much as I did writing the first part of it......


It was the middle of August and the heat was beginning to diminish as the day grew concise. My older sister Annie wanted to take a dip in the lake before the sun went down. Of course I always had to go with Annie wherever she went. Though she was two years older than me, I was much more prudent and wise. Annie was considered to be sunshine in a cup - a ball of freshness one might say. She could never do anything that was sinful. But in reality, she would always end up in danger. I had to come salvage her most of the time. After all, she was my sister and I did love her.

“Enchanted Lake” is what people in town called the lake. Supposedly, if you swam in the lake for more than twenty minutes, a mermaid would emerge and grant you one wish. I’ve been swimming in the lake since I was five years old. I am now 15.

Annie was always the believer in mythical creatures. Though she had never seen this mermaid, she had one of her feelings today that she might catch a glimpse of her. I took her by the hand as we walked together towards the lake. Out of curiosity I asked her what she would wish for if she were to see this mermaid.

“I am going to wish to be with my secret love.” she said as she smiled with such ecstasy.

I scoffed and asked “Who might that be Annie?”

“Mr. Gabe. I saw him three times yesterday and each time I could see that he was interested in me.” Annie said to her sister Abigail.

“Annie, Mr. Gabe is nearing 25 years old. You are only 17. Mama would never hear of it!”

“Oh Abigail, you will soon find out what it is like to find love.”

I rolled my eyes and began to think about myself for a minute. If there was a mermaid and I did have the chance to make a wish, what would I wish for?

The Clock Read Seven

My 10th entry to the WOW writing group has surfaced!! I began to write something similar to this when the "Clock winked" exercise came up, but I never posted it because I had little confidence. LOL. I have tweaked it a bit and tried to get out of my poetry escapades. I decided to use this piece for the "Make it Better" exercise. If you have any suggestions on how to keep my poetry voice when writing fiction, I am all ears. :)

The clock read seven.
His hands ruffled through the crispy leaves, while he was trying to find a spot to lay on. He beamed as he dipped his hands in his pockets. The pockets were full of dirt; grime that ran deeper into the core of the earth. It was his dirt he thought. His life was packed away in his pockets.

Another day of a tin can banged in the wind. It would fluctuate with the air stream, making a musical dance of a lonely life. Many people stopped, but never remained. Perhaps a penny may appear. “No, it is not time.” he thought to himself.

The chill in the air was beginning to accompany him. He designed a blanket of yellow and orange leaves; patching them all together creating a quilt of sunsets. His flesh was breaking due to the bitter winds, but his essence was cordial. 

The cloudless atmosphere turned into a black hole of rain. He watched as people splashed their muddy life on his beard; a life that he chose not to return to.

His muddy tears dried but remained on his heart. “It is now time.” he said to himself. A young man appeared, drenched with pearls of water. “Let’s go dad.”

He glanced at his son’s watch, remembering when he bought it for him years ago. The golden exterior was beginning to fade, much like his sons life. Things were now changing.
The clock read seven.

Body Canvas

I believe this would be my 9th week with my WOW writing group. We are left we the option of chosing one of the previous exercises --- I took a little piece from every exercise and came up with this. I used alot of imagery - mainly from the "Go for a walk" exercise and "Sit under a tree" exercise and created a lump of metaphors for making love.


The color of red seeps from your fingertips - emerging the blood flow between us.
My body compels into your core - illuminating the orange peel of our essence.
The formation of sweat leaks out of our pours while creating a yellow hue of the sun.

The green earth is our backdrop; making the leaves expand as our bodies grow.
I see my features - my soul’s reflection in your sapphire eyes.
As the night begins to take command of the day, black surrounds us and we are left with a streaming pearl of light.

White is the pigment of our complexion that has been conducting music - a saxophone with notes of lilac jazz. It produces a soulful rhythm sound of cerise passion - sprinkled with specks of devotion on a canvas.

Songbird

I am in my 8th week of doing the WOW challenge. This week we are to write the story behind the song. I went with one of my favorite instrumental songs. Instrumental music helps me relax and feel the mood of my writing. I chose this piece of music because it has different emotions throughout the entire piece. I wanted to explore those emotions in my writing. Hope all of you enjoy! :)

We met when the world was starting to disconnect. We had altered views of the world but I grew to appreciate your words. I was drawn to them as if they were a magnet. They tempted me to push myself even further, which later gave me courage throughout my illness.

I believed in a world that seemed secluded at the time. I felt deserted in my journey. Pages upon pages spilled with words of a different language, but your words was the only thing I felt . I cherished your presence pushing me towards a new life - a new life of existence that involved sorrow, love, and fervency.

Our friendship grew deeper, like entrenched roots that fall beneath a flower. You were my source of strength when my cancer surfaced. My body was in vain, but it subsided when your voice conveyed words of new literature; our literature.

Our love blossomed - blooming with each kiss. Night fell and we sailed through the oceans to find our new home. We ran in circles; while laughing on our merry-go-round life.  I held on to every ounce of expectation that led me to be with you one last time.

We flew through the open ultramarine skies, awaiting for my soul to drift. My eyes grew tired and my body began to wander. The birds lifted me up as I held onto your hands and I remembered the first time I touched you.

I Know You

My 7th entry to the WOW challenge. I am a bit pressured for time this week due to my hectic school schedule-- so I did this in a bit of a rush. But I am pleased how this turned out. :)

Instead of writing about someone that I do not know, I chose to write about the first time I met my love. Our relationship did not start until one year after we met.
As always, I enjoyed this weeks writing prompt. Hope all of you will enjoy!

I stumble upon you a few times a week. Our paths usually cross at the same place. Time is constrained, but our ambiances meet – like a bird soaring to get home.

Who are you?

I see you have a yearning for desire. Your invitation awaits you as if it were around the corner. Have you considered? Yes – a glimpse you share with me on occasion. You slightly chuckle under your breath as if you knew what I was thinking.

Thoughts we both share only transmute into dreams. We meet there every night, and during the day, we steal glances. It is enough for us to move on with our day – but not enough to reconcile our souls.

The nights become briefer as the fall spirit embraces our life.  The dreams we share become shorter, but our desire becomes profounder.

I tell you about the dream -- the dream of rubicund blankets decorated over us as if it were silk. The fireplace blazes with its fury and I see the replication in your eyes.

Silence is what we recognize. Our bodies begin to start talking. We have many conversations that night, but nothing communicates louder than what is in your heart.  

I know you.

The Mighty Rewrite

I have entered my 6th week doing the WOW challange. This week we are to take a paragraph from a book and rewrite it in our own words. I did change most of the orginal paragraph and made it more interesting. I am not as fluent as a fiction writer as I am a poetry writer, but I do hope many of you will enjoy reading this. As always, I love a good challenge!!

The Story Sisters By Alice Hoffman
Orginal Paragraph:

"Once a year there was a knock at the door. Two times, then nothing. No one else heard, only me. Even when I was a baby in my cradle. My mother didn't hear. My father didn't hear. My sisters continued sleeping. But the cat looked up."

My Rewrite:

"During the beginning of each fall season, there was a continuous knock at the door. The knock was always very feeble, but it was strident enough to hear. I would always gust to the door thinking that it was my grandmother coming back from one of her weekly trips. She would always bring back a present for my sister and myself.  But alas, it was not my grandmother. No one else heard the knock. My mother always told me that it was the breeze. My father would be in his study room, so whenever I asked a question, I got a mumble. It was always gabble for a “yes” or a “no.” My sister believed I was making up stories just to get attention. I was the younger child, so of course she would consider such a thing. However, our cat would scurry to the door whenever I did hear the knock. Not only would she run to the door, but she would lie there all day. Perhaps there is a ghastly thing asking for its home on that specific day."

Cobblestones

I am currently in my 5th week in the WOW challenge. This week we are to come up with a juicy "one liner" -- anything from poetry, fiction, or non-fiction that we are working on. I have to say, this was a bit complicated for me to do because I was itching to write more! As always, I enjoy doing these exercises!!

******* A quick edit to post my prose piece with my one liner. We did not have to do this, but I chose to add to it as well as change it to 1st person. I couldn't help myself, I had to write more!!


She watched the river bands of water streaming down the window pane, and began to envision her lovers hands flowing over her as if she were the rain.

*******

The fractures in the cobblestones begin to fill up with water pellets. Each drop splashes, creating a canvas of spilled feelings that we continue to share. The stones are artic enough to form ice beneath our bodies. Perhaps we glided on ice to each other. 

I fancy myself on the stones - feeling you within my soul. Our hair is entangled together like a lion’s mane mixed with altered colors of gold strands. We are becoming silk, softening as we begin to touch.

The stars of our constellation share a brief moment. Our bodies awaken to a different sight. The heavens are now breaching  and we can see the stars bursting into a million pieces. A passionate war was forming between us. Fighting against the truth and freeing of oneself.

Our pieces of stars drip over the cobblestones as I watch the river bands of water streaming down the window pane, realizing I had envisioned your hands flowing over me as if I were the rain.