The exercise:
On this 1,100th day in a row of Daily Writing Practice, I was all set to be excited and celebratory. But then the Canucks lost tonight, so that went out the window. Bring on the deciding game 7 on Wednesday night. One way or another, it all ends in less than two days.
Right, we're still in need of a prompt. How about: the waterfall.
Mine:
It wasn't much of a drop, really. Six feet, seven at the most. No rocks guarded the landing, and the bottom lurked far below the surface. Couldn't have been a safer jump, all things considered.
And yet... and yet.
She stood at the top, the water tickling her ankles as she stared down. All the others had already leaped into the thick summer air and were now swimming in lazy circles. Waiting for her.
She should have gone first. She could see that clearly now. But that moment had come and gone and it was a waste to go chasing after it. There were only two options left: jump or be branded a coward forever.
Forever was a long time, but she felt like she could almost see it from up there.
They were growing impatient, shouting to be heard over the sound of the waterfall. It was time. She told herself to just close her eyes and jump. So what if she screamed? Two or three of the others had. All that would be remembered was that they had jumped. That they weren't cowards. Like her.
7 comments:
They're going right up to the wire then? Good luck, let's hope they snatch victory now!
I really like the description of the others, swimming in lazy circles in your third para. I can almost feel the cool, refreshing water at that point.
I'm pretty much always first off the edge for that kind of thing :)
The Waterfall
Charles Ascugimento, Head of Building Security, looked at the waterfall, and then at the shop owner. The shop owner cringed.
"What we have here," said Charles, each word spat out precisely, carefully enunciated and looking like it hurt him to say it, "is a waterfall." The owner nodded, and opened her mouth to speak.
"-"
"Which has not been sanctioned by Building Security," said Charles before she managed to get her first syllable out.
"-"
"And has apparently been installed by subterfuge, pretending that you were having air-conditioning put in."
"It is air conditioning," said the owner, relieved to finally get some words out. Charles frowned.
"It is not building approved air conditioning," he said. He gestured to the two security officers behind him, who wore aviator sunglasses to hide their eyes. "Handcuff her to the back wall of the waterfall," he said. "We'll see what five hours water therapy does to help her see our little problem here."
The guards moved to obey, their glasses hiding the fact that their eyes were filling up with miniature waterfalls all of their own.
Falling
Water tumble
Down, sparkling in the green
Mossy world, liquid beauty shine
Hiding cool cave behind the sheaf of blue
Crashing into the pool deep, dark
Glimmering fish swim with
Golden flashes
Falling
Marc: you reminded me of Brave Sir Robin from Monty Pythons. :D
Greg: No calls about civil rights? Nice.
Morganna: Well detailed, I can picture the scene well.
I did the exercise, but it was way too long. I'll save you all from reading all that.
Marc I love that it is only 6 or 7 feet tall.
Greg that was awesome especially the water torture and the waterfall tears.
Morgana that is a great visual poem and the cave part partially inspired my story. I want to write more prose so I did.
The Waterfall
Odie could barely hear anything, let alone his fearful thoughts, as he stood before the massive waterfall. Happiness is the journey, the seeking, the exploring, but here was a seeker standing before the object of his quest and wishing he was still seeking. Now he would find out if his searching had been for nothing.
Two months had gone by since he had begun looking for this waterfall. It had begun, like most adventures, with a bored life and a chance encounter. Odie had been standing behind the counter of his used book store, reading a book most people would never even hear of or miss, when a strange old man shuffled in. He was hunched with age and leaning on a cane that looked like a well-used cudgel. Elderly patrons shuffling into the shop was not strange, more like the only thing keeping Odie in the book business. He was dressed clothes that made him appear to be a prospector from the old west. Floppy leather hat, patched cotton shirt, and thick-soled leather shoes. All his raiment had the appearance of being the only thing the man had worn for years.
“You are Odysseus Dean Samson?” He shuffled his eye around Odie’s face. The old man was now close enough for Odie to smell him, it was the smell Odie loved most in the world, old books.
“Y-yes I am but how---“ But the old man cut him off by throwing an old piece of parchment on the counter.
“They want you. Follow that map if you’re brave enough. If you’re not stay here and rot with your books.”
“W-what? I don’t think I understand you,” but the old man was already limping out the way he had come in.
“Wait a second,” Odie spluttered trying to make his way past piles of books to escape from behind the counter, “What is going on here? WAIT A SECOND!”
The bells rang as the door shut behind the old man. They rang again as Odie, now angry, ripped open the door after him. But the old man was gone, as quickly as a word read but not known. Odie walked back to the counter where the parchment was. Picking it up, he felt it would crumble in his fingers, but it didn’t and he was able to unroll it. It was a map that marked a trail to a waterfall. In faded calligraphy was a simple poem,
“Come and seek behind the falls
The books of old to you now calls
Leap and learn the act of faith
For just two months will we wait”
Odie stood before the falls that roared. He swallowed hard and leapt into the raging waterfall.
Maria washed her clothes in that part of the river every Tuesday. Thursday and Saturdays she would join the other women on the bank near the village. But Tuesdays were without gossip, silently she would hike through the forest to her spot.
This day, the sun cut through the trees, a private beam trained on her. She felt the sun rest on her neck, warming her skin. She ran her hand through the water, cooler than last week, but still inviting for an early autumn day. The laundry could wait.
Maria caressed her neck, feeling he pores moist with perspiration. She unbuttoned her shirt, removing it and the rest of her clothes, leaving them with the rest of her laundry. She looked at her reflection in the water, radiant and smiling, hand pressed to her slightly swollen belly that would birth a new life before year end. She waded in, feeling the cool water envelop her hips. Disappearing beneath, she felt her muscles engaged as she gracefully moved, emerging under the waterfall.
She stood in the shallow water, the waterfall touching her face and dancing down her warm skin. Eyes closed, enveloped in a moment of pure awakening.
Maria opened her eyes and glanced down, seeing red. Blood trickling down her thigh. Dios Mio. She held her belly, bending forward to inspect. More blood, but not from her.
The waterfall gushed red, she looked up just in time to side step the massive object falling from above. Hitting the water with more thud than splash was a man's body. Flowing red.
Maria looked at him. Many unnatural holes, pieces of flesh missing. The eyes and face swollen, yet Maria knew this man. He was the one they called The Beard.
Greg - I'm hoping with all my hoping muscles.
Ah, good old Charles. The guards hidden waterfalls were a nice touch.
Morganna - wonderful imagery :)
Mother in T.O. - haha, Brave Sir Robin! Awesome :)
If you wrote in elsewhere you're always welcome to leave a link so that we can check it out.
Aaron - That's an awesome setup! I totally want to read more.
David - the initial discovery of blood was an excellent tease. And the return of The Beard! Great stuff.
http://justwantedmarmite.blogspot.com/2011/06/studio-on-waterfall.html
So I posted what I wrote for Monday and here's the link for you Marc.
Post a Comment