Friday April 6th, 2012

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: flight.

So with New York, Vancouver, and St. Louis all losing last night and tonight, here's where things stand with one game remaining in the regular season for each team: if Vancouver wins tomorrow night they're guaranteed top spot in the west and force New York to win in order for the Rangers to claim first overall. Otherwise the Canucks go into the playoffs on top for the second straight year.

If the Canucks lose tomorrow night they have no shot at first overall, but they could still claim tops in the west if St. Louis also loses their final game.

What's that? Why yes, there will be a lot of hockey talk for the next little while. Sorry. But there will always be prompts, so feel free to ignore everything that comes after the writing topic of the day if all this is terribly uninteresting to you.


He wanted to ask if it was safe but he'd already strung those words together several times and he was beginning to understand that no answer could bring sufficient comfort. Instead he took a final look around in an attempt to make sure he hadn't forgotten something important.

"It's time to go, Dad," his son said, his fingers reaching for the safety of his grasp.

He nodded, took hold of the proffered hand, and together they left their home, their old lives, the known, and a single dead body behind.


Greg said...

Sounds like the Canucks are doing everything they can to win it for you this year! They must know you're a die-hard fan.
Heh, lovely misdirection today, I definitely wasn't expecting that dead body in the last line! The first bit sets up someone worrying about a flight very well.

"Do you believe in nominative determinism?" asked Father, gazing out of the window. Mother looked up sharply – she forbade long words in the house – and noticed that he looked worried.
"No," she said simply, "Why?"
"I just think calling him 'Little Icarus' might have been a mistake" said Father as their son leapt from the roof wearing eight-foot long wings.

Anonymous said...



Whether on the soaring wings of the eagle, scanning the ground for prey;

or the millions per second flutter of the dragonfly, hovering like a chopper over the pool in which I swim;

or the beating props of the De Havilland, in whose wing seat I sit as I watch the islands below me travel by;

flight is the one thing that captivates humans with its ease and grace ... oh, to have been born with wings ...may it be our next stage in evolution!

Watermark said...

Love the prompt for today but four lines of prose was such a challenge!! So much I wanted to get in :)

Here goes...


"Can I bring you a drink and welcome snack?" beamed the air hostess as she handed me a shiny cosmetics bag, along with a pair of pyjamas before leaning over to lay a fresh duvet, a fluffy pillow and soft slippers on what looked like a bed nearby.

I stared at the items in my lap, looked up at her then down at the bed to my side, suddenly not knowing whether I was coming or going.

"Er... uhhh... wa-water please? yeah... yes thank you," I questioned more than answered and I could hear the air hostess giggle all the way down the aisle.

I eyed the others around me and saw that they were already settling into their cosy armchairs; it seems that first class was just the cure I had always needed for my fear of flying.

Iron Bess said...


She always waited until she was the last person to board, and always tried to get a seat as close to the front as possible. Last on, first off. She would much rather spend the time standing in the airport then sitting in cramped quarters on the plane. She knew that if she ever became rich her indulgence would be First Class every single trip.

Krystin Scott said...

The doorbell rang and young Jared Frink ran as fast as his little legs would carry him and opened the door wide.

“Hi Grandma!” he said as he hugged Margaret Frink around the knees.

Margaret looked down at her young grandson taking notice of his Superman Underoos and accompanying red cape. She smiled.

“What’s this you have on Jared? Are you a superhero?”

Jared nodded. “Yup, Suppe Man!” He held his arms up high above his head and made a swooshing noise.

“Oh!” Margaret said delighted. “Have you been practicing your flying today?”

Jared nodded. “Yeah.” Then he cast his eyes down to the floor.

Margaret placed a finger under his chin and raised his head so she could get a good look at him.

“I’m not very good a flying, Grandma.” Then all of a sudden his face brightened and he smiled showing his lack of incisors for the first time. “But I’m really good at crashing!” Jared put his arms high above his head, turned and used his super powers to zoom through the living room and up the stairs.

Marc said...

Greg - that's quite the family picture you've painted in just four lines. I think I quite like this flying son of theirs :)

Writebite - I think having wings would be pretty sweet. I'm sure in reality it would be full of complications, but in theory I'm all for it!

Watermark - yeah, four lines was probably too restrictive for a prompt like that. I just couldn't think of anything better and I needed to get to bed :P

First class sounds like an excellent way to deal with a fear of flying!

Iron Bess - I'll agree with that sentiment; the less time I spend on the actual aircraft the better.

Krystin - that's the spirit, Jared! :D