My sight is filled with the wondrous colors of the world. Luscious greenery surrounds and produces oxygen to breathe, which fills our lungs with the precious life. Various shades of brown offering rich, nutrient soil that allows the seeds sowed to take root and grow bounties to strengthen life. Ominous grey clouds that hang over purposely to pour down to replenish the parched land and lips. The vibrant colors of flowers and herbs scenting the air, flavoring our dishes, brightening our spirits, and providing home-made remedies. It’s amazing really, the natural beauty that is available to be seen, everywhere.
There once was a young woman who was born to peasants. Her parents worked hard each day for their daily bread. The family was quite poor, but the girl had three outfits to choose and two would remain hanging in the shared armoire. Every night, no matter how tired her Pa was from the hard labor he performed out on the local farm, the wooden table was cleared after supper and together they would sit to enjoy tea and each others company well in to the wee hours of the night. Her father would teach her many things in the evening. He would always say, “Madeline, you must learn to be independent. You can’t count on anyone in this cruel world.” She learned many valuable lessons from her father that would help her to survive and earn legitimate wages by fancying things crafted with her own hands, when the time came. Yet she never worried herself about famine. After all, she was accustomed to getting by on very little each day. At night her father told many stories of the places and the faces that he had seen, but when she lied down each night, she always recalled the one story her great-grandmother had told. Each night the peasant girl entered the garden wearing a bright and sunny dress looking for her fated prince charming to kiss upon the lips. When no frogs were to be found sitting alongside the banks she would step into the water and float effortlessly as she held on to two lily pads and waited for her frog to come and rescue her, or as the story goes, for her to rescue the frog by placing a sweet kiss on his green lips to break the curse and live happily ever after. At the end of each night she awoke disappointed and wearing the same clothes and exclaimed, “Tonight I will find you Prince Charming, I promise.”
Depleted, Nixie collapsed in the middle of the road while taking an evening stroll. She enjoyed the California heat, sunshine, and palm trees that swayed, but living in the desert took its toll leaving the land and water sprite dehydrated. Forcing the gods to pour down and revive them both.
~This is a quick little ditty (poem) for Jack who has been sitting quietly in the back of my mind. He has been knocking softly on the creative door, and I want to open it it’s just finding the time and right frame of mind.
“There’s nothing here…But off in the distance, maybe across the stream, I can hear something. Movement. Perhaps some sort of small animal.” She scrunched her eyes shut tighter, furrowing her brows in concentration, “Yes, I think it’s a small animal of some sort. Roaming. Slowly. Grazing. That’s weird; I shouldn’t be able to hear any of that. But what’s really strange is I have this sudden urge to sneak up on it and see what it’s doing.” Exasperated, Sam exhaled nosily. “That’s really odd. Next time, please remind me to stop at two glasses of wine. A girl has to have limits.”
~Blowing off some of the dust that has been collecting on my unfinished novel. As much as I prefer to write on the patio in the spring or summer, time is more precious, and I feel like winter writing is generally most productive. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll make some headway and get this project DONE.
“She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world.” ― Joanne Harris
Source: We Heart It
By day Shelby was a beautiful sight to behold for sure. She had an internal allure about her that drew new patrons into her bookstore every day looking for a variety of words, which she kept well stocked. The regular cliental often gathered in the coffee area at the back to share their experiences and interactions with Shelby. It was said that she had a hypnotic, cleansing, and enjoyable affect on all she encountered and that’s what kept them coming back for more. What her patrons didn’t know was that when she looked into their eyes she could reach into their soul and find what ailed them, and to be sure, she reflected their unhappiness back through her knowing orbs as confirmation of the source before proceeding to heal their spirit at little everyday. Occasionally, she would encounter a client that had been sorely wronged by another and to make it right, she would seek them out in her dreams at night. When she slept her spirit wandered the world and beyond, looking to turn predators into prey. She siphoned the life force from evildoers to replenish her strength so that she could continue to help the people who entered her bookstore and heal their spirits with more than the words they sought for comfort or escape.
Held for barter in a cold-dark dungeon, Silver’s spirit nearly withered away. Her captor’s handsome nephew devised a plan that released her from captivity. She made her journey at nightfall, and in the dawning hours she was able to spread her wings in newfound freedom and see the sun rise.
Inspired by DP Fifty Word Story challenge. I find a bite size portion is best when you lack motivation.