Friday March 6th, 2015

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: fumes.

Had a delightfully slow paced morning, just lazing around the house while our hosts were off working and traveling (Alex was working, Megan was on her way to Vernon for a ringette tournament, of all things - she'll be back Sunday night). Max kept himself entertained by exploring all the 'toys' in the house while Kat and I recovered from yesterday's drive.

And, you know, maybe the last two weeks or so.

Kat met up with a friend for lunch and then the four of us got together to go for a walk. It's been an early spring here in Vancouver, and a lot of the cherry blossoms are out already, not to mention various flowers. It was a warm, lovely walk, that ended up taking us by the place Kat and I lived... when this blog began, actually. I'd forgotten that.

It was neat to see the old house, and even nicer to roam our old neighborhood. Kat's spending most of the next two days doing an outdoor education course, so Max and I will have plenty of time to continue our explorations in the big city.


"We're running on fumes here, man."

"I know, but we just need to get a little bit farther."

"You're pushing it... you know that, right?"

"Shut up already and help me pick a color to paint Mr. Fuller's poodle - this prank has gotta be the one to push him over the edge!"


Greg said...

That sounds much more like a holiday than a road-trip... still no impulse to go to Vegas and come back with extra children, a Vegas-wife each, and secrets? it does sound very relaxing and chilled, and there's something nice about being able to wander around an old neighbourhood and see what's changed and what's stayed the same :)
Ah, Mr. Fuller's poodle is going to look magnificent whatever they paint it. Even if they go with rainbow colours! This made me laugh, so thank-you :)

"How has your experiment worked, child?" asked the substitute chemistry teacher. The children had spent most of the lesson whispering to each other that she looked like a wicked witch: a curve nose that might have been hooked in bad light, a beauty spot that could have been a wart, and she definitely had a toad in a cage on her desk.
"I've just got fumes, miss," said Sally, sounding a little dejected as she opened the fume cupboard door and a pale green cloud flumphed out and engulfed the children.
"As you were supposed to," said the teacher, smiling as the children squealed and metamorposed into piglets.

Anonymous said...

It came as a plume of lavender and sky, swirling from her sharp fingertips like tendrils of smoke from sticks of incense. I breathed in the rich scent of flowers and fire, soaking up every ounce of power into my pores. This was her gift to me, this unique control over the mind and body. As warmth spread to each fiber of my being, her body shrunk into that of an old gnome’s: a shriveled form no taller than my knee.

Marc said...

Greg - that's a... very effective teacher. Produced the results she was looking for anyway!

Ivybennet - wonderful descriptions! You've painted one hell of a scene in my head with just four lines.