Water fell in torrents. What a perfect end to a stormy night. Rain poured down the gutter, my face fell with it. I looked down at my speckled blue rain coat, and flicked the dark drops from my shoulders. Tomorrow will be a new day. Today, I’ll bury the hatchet.
She sat at her desk and drummed her fingers across the keyboard. Seven more days of this, she thought. Seven more days until she could surround herself in sun tan lotion and sand. Already she could hear the sound of the gulls and the waves lapping at the shore. Soon, she would stand in the surf and let the water wash over her ankles, sinking. Sinking and relaxing. Isn’t that what vacation was all about it?
Sinking her paycheck…but sinking…no, absorbing all the sun, waves, blue sky and soft comforter that she could stand. That time in the morning where you relish in the fact that there’s no place to be. No work, no appointments, no commitments whatsoever. Just the promise she’ll make to herself when she stretches her toes out of the covers and reaches her arms up over her head. Soon it’ll be the time to relax, to slough off the bruises of a long day, and the scourge of human emotions. Soon. But not yet. Not yet.
I have about 5 minutes before I have to shower, dress and get around for work tonight, but just wanted to share something real quick with you guys.
I signed up for an online class called, “Creativity Training for Writers” and although the class is clearly geared for writers who are more or less getting into the craft of writing, it has really helped me get back on track and is slowly curing my writer’s block – which is what I hoped it would!
The creative mind is still alive and kicking, and what a relief it is to get my writer’s voice back! Our first assignment we were given prompts and a limit of 5 minutes, in which we were to create a story finishing a sentence with a twist at the end. It is the closest I have ever come to writing some decent flash fiction and I was rather proud of it:
At the Ball Park
They called it a near miss, but I called it a coincidence. Sandy called it fate and I kissed her nose whenever she said this and she would smile at me with that wide, red-lipped smile; the kind that she gave me even after I had broken her hip and dislocated her right shoulder.
I’d tried to swerve to the right, but I just couldn’t move fast enough. There were so many people in the way and the lane was crowded. I’d hollered, “Get out of the way!” And before I knew it, my brown, leather glove was in the face of the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen with red-brown hair. How was I to know that I would accidentally push her down the ball park stairs?
I’d visited her at the hospital after I muttered my sorrys to her on the gurney as the EMTs rolled her away, but that still wasn’t quite good enough. I gave her the ball I caught though, which was signed by every memory of the team. And when I was leaning over her hospital bed, the ball out-stretched in my hand, she gave me that red-lipped smile and asked me to marry her. Turns out she was a Yankees fan, too.
***Thoughts below if you got ’em! 🙂