Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Thursday December 19th, 2019
The exercise: Write about: dashing through the snow.
We got ourselves a big dumping of the white stuff this evening. But they're calling for five degrees and rain tomorrow, so it won't be around for long.
That sounds quite nice in a way -- snow for long enough for you to enjoy it, but not so long as to become a nuisance! I'm off to Kiev for a week today, but I think I'm unlikely to get snow there until I go back for the next board meeting :(
Dashing through the snow David turned the keys, heavy metal objects each at least as long as his palm, over in his hands, wondering why there were five of them when the padlock only required one. “Come on,” said the Ghost. “We haven’t got all day.” Tristram’s expression must have meant something to the Ghost, because he laughed suddenly. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he said. “that’s just a turn of phrase. I’ve waited quite long enough to return to this world, I can wait a week for him to play with the keys if I have to.” “Get on with it, Dave,” said Tristram. The shortest of the keys fit into the padlock and as it turned, squeaking angrily and resisting all the while, David looked again at the other keys. They were dark and oddly shiny, and they didn’t look like iron or any other metal he was familiar with. They were cool to the touch, even in direct sunlight, and they were heavy too. When he put them into his jacket pocket after pulling the padlock off his jacket was pulled down hard on that side, the collar on the opposite side jamming up under his chin. He loosened the chains, deciding they were long enough and heavy enough as well that he wasn’t going to free them completely from the gate, and pushed the gate open wide enough for them to easily walk through. Then he moved the keys to his trouser pocket, where they barely fit but just tightened his trousers around his waist instead of trying to undress him. There was a long, paved path to the doors of the church, wide enough for five people to walk side-by-side, and grass grew through the gaps and cracks. The stone was grey and coarse; it looked heavily weathered and there had clearly been some kind of pattern or design on it at some point, but now it was blurred beyond recognition. “No graves,” said Tristram. He gestured around them, as what was essentially just fenced in marsh. “Ground’s too soft,” said the Ghost. “It’s hard to dig a deep enough hold when the sides of the grave collapse in on you, and is it worth it if the bodies end up out in the estuary anyway? You may as well just bury them at sea.” “You mean like go out on a boat with a priest and the mourners?” David was pretty certain he wasn’t going to get a yes, but he asked anyway. The Ghost laughed again. “I mean like throwing them off Deadman’s Fall,” he said. “There’s not much in the way of cliffs round here, but there’s a high-enough bluff over a deep enough cove off to the East.” They reached the door of the church and the sun went behind a cloud. David looked up and was startled to see that the sky had clouded over completely: a light-grey mass now stretched from horizon to horizon. “You have the keys,” said the Ghost, and David pulled them awkwardly out of his pocket again. Snow started falling, and he stared at the keys, trying to ignore his brain telling him that at the corner of his eyes, the friezes were moving again. For a fleeting moment he thought he saw them dashing through the snow, then he shook his head to clear his mind. “Try the longest one; they tend to build these churches to withstand assault.” “From rioting mobs in the middle ages,” said Tristram. “When churches were a place of sanctuary.” “That too,” said the Ghost. The key turned easily, as though it was used a lot, and the door, which Dave realised now was a normal sized door set into the three-storey high door that fronted the church, opened without a squeak. “Why is this church so big?” he said, the words finally forcing their way to the front of his mind. Tristram stepped through the door into the church. “Because it wasn’t built for humans,” said the Ghost, and his smile sent chills down David’s spine. Coming from inside the church they heard Tristram throwing up.
Greg - I would have minded it less if I didn't have to drive home in it. I did enjoy looking out at it afterward though. And the boys made a fine snowman this morning before it got too warm.
Not sure I want to know what's inside, but I'm quite certain that you're going to tell us regardless.
2 comments:
That sounds quite nice in a way -- snow for long enough for you to enjoy it, but not so long as to become a nuisance! I'm off to Kiev for a week today, but I think I'm unlikely to get snow there until I go back for the next board meeting :(
Dashing through the snow
David turned the keys, heavy metal objects each at least as long as his palm, over in his hands, wondering why there were five of them when the padlock only required one.
“Come on,” said the Ghost. “We haven’t got all day.” Tristram’s expression must have meant something to the Ghost, because he laughed suddenly. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he said. “that’s just a turn of phrase. I’ve waited quite long enough to return to this world, I can wait a week for him to play with the keys if I have to.”
“Get on with it, Dave,” said Tristram.
The shortest of the keys fit into the padlock and as it turned, squeaking angrily and resisting all the while, David looked again at the other keys. They were dark and oddly shiny, and they didn’t look like iron or any other metal he was familiar with. They were cool to the touch, even in direct sunlight, and they were heavy too. When he put them into his jacket pocket after pulling the padlock off his jacket was pulled down hard on that side, the collar on the opposite side jamming up under his chin. He loosened the chains, deciding they were long enough and heavy enough as well that he wasn’t going to free them completely from the gate, and pushed the gate open wide enough for them to easily walk through. Then he moved the keys to his trouser pocket, where they barely fit but just tightened his trousers around his waist instead of trying to undress him.
There was a long, paved path to the doors of the church, wide enough for five people to walk side-by-side, and grass grew through the gaps and cracks. The stone was grey and coarse; it looked heavily weathered and there had clearly been some kind of pattern or design on it at some point, but now it was blurred beyond recognition.
“No graves,” said Tristram. He gestured around them, as what was essentially just fenced in marsh.
“Ground’s too soft,” said the Ghost. “It’s hard to dig a deep enough hold when the sides of the grave collapse in on you, and is it worth it if the bodies end up out in the estuary anyway? You may as well just bury them at sea.”
“You mean like go out on a boat with a priest and the mourners?” David was pretty certain he wasn’t going to get a yes, but he asked anyway. The Ghost laughed again.
“I mean like throwing them off Deadman’s Fall,” he said. “There’s not much in the way of cliffs round here, but there’s a high-enough bluff over a deep enough cove off to the East.”
They reached the door of the church and the sun went behind a cloud. David looked up and was startled to see that the sky had clouded over completely: a light-grey mass now stretched from horizon to horizon.
“You have the keys,” said the Ghost, and David pulled them awkwardly out of his pocket again. Snow started falling, and he stared at the keys, trying to ignore his brain telling him that at the corner of his eyes, the friezes were moving again. For a fleeting moment he thought he saw them dashing through the snow, then he shook his head to clear his mind. “Try the longest one; they tend to build these churches to withstand assault.”
“From rioting mobs in the middle ages,” said Tristram. “When churches were a place of sanctuary.”
“That too,” said the Ghost.
The key turned easily, as though it was used a lot, and the door, which Dave realised now was a normal sized door set into the three-storey high door that fronted the church, opened without a squeak.
“Why is this church so big?” he said, the words finally forcing their way to the front of his mind. Tristram stepped through the door into the church.
“Because it wasn’t built for humans,” said the Ghost, and his smile sent chills down David’s spine. Coming from inside the church they heard Tristram throwing up.
Greg - I would have minded it less if I didn't have to drive home in it. I did enjoy looking out at it afterward though. And the boys made a fine snowman this morning before it got too warm.
Not sure I want to know what's inside, but I'm quite certain that you're going to tell us regardless.
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