Friday November 6th, 2015

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: a lonely light.

Tomorrow is Max's third birthday. How odd. It's also his last birthday as an only child. Stranger still.

The plan is to go to a swimming pool at one of the local hotels with his cousin in the morning (he went there once a few weeks back with Kat and a few other moms and their young'uns and he utterly loved it). Then we're all gathering at Kat's parents house for dinner - his aunt, his uncle, his cousin, his grandma, his papa, and his parents. He has requested roasted chicken for his birthday dinner and we're picking up a cake from the bakery for dessert.

Should be a good day. I hope he enjoys it.


He is alone now. All of his compatriots have faded away or guttered out. Now he is the last, lonesome candle fighting back the black of night.

And he is growing so very, very tired...


Greg said...

Time has a habit of getting away from you as you get older. Ask Max how long the last year went and I bet he'll tell you it took a lifetime to come back round to his birthday again :)
I hope has fun on his birthday!
...and that your prose doesn't reflect your current feelings, or you're going to have a hard time keeping up with him all day!

A lonely light
The lighthouse keeper sat up by the lamp, reading and re-reading the note. I want a divorce is all it read; he'd found it on the table when he woke up. As the light turned, directing its beam out to sea and warning ships of the proximity of the coast – and the rocks – he puzzled over it. As he was the only person living out here, who could have written it and what did they mean?

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, well, it did take a third of his life to get back to this birthday party.

And yeah, I think that last line sort of wrote itself...

Well, isn't this an intriguing scene. Part of me wants it to be the lighthouse wanting a divorce. The rest of me wants something more... unexpected.

Regardless, I'd enjoy hearing more about this one.