The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: the mission.
I could explain the inspiration for this prompt but it would take far too long and would not be particularly interesting, so lets just skip all that and get right to the writing, shall we?
Excellent.
Mine:
The documents that had arrived through the usual means had been as direct and straightforward as always. The language was clearly that of his overlords, the phrases as familiar as the ones which regularly appeared in his own conversations. The goals of his mission were outlined in precise detail, with the accompanying maps and charts that he had come to expect.
But still he hesitated, still he wondered, still he listened to that doubting voice that would not be silenced...
7 comments:
Ah, those nagging doubts that arise when we're not sure we want to do as instructed :) I think you've depicted them rather nicely there!
Is there still a farmer's market this week? I'm sure you said they were nearly all over now.
The mission
The mission was a small white-painted wooden church that the two missionaries had erected during their first three weeks. They'd worked, unaided by the natives, from first light to dusk, and were very proud that it could house forty people for a service and had two little bedrooms at the back. Now, after days spent with the hunters trying to tell them about the word of God, they returned home, tired and frustrated, to the mission.
Which was full of natives who'd decided to use it , as a large, dry, indoor space, to manage the slaughter and preserving of six wildebeest.
Your blog is great for motivation. Thanks. Here's about all I can come up with right now:
This somehow turned into a mission. Racing along in the heat rather than riding directly to the market, I took myself away from the lights. Following the stream, I built up a head of steam. I was going to see where the banks of this little stream took me. However, I relented on the outskirts of town, bought some of the best 'kao ro' I've ever had, a papaya milkshake and a Taiwan beer. I ate, drank and felt content.
nice entries.
mine was longer as I combined two prompts...
The Mission and the Brute (dwp)
He made it his mission to transform the brutish behaviour that plagued his associate. They clashed at every turning point, finding no common theme or interest. This made it hard to get along. Chalk and cheese, they were. When one is kind and calm and the other is aggressive and forceful, how can you meet in the middle?
I questioned him, "Is it that important to try so hard? Can you really transform some one else?"
"I feel I have to try, to teach him something, if nothing else," his answer lingered on the whispering wind.
I prodded further, "But do you have the right? Do any of us have the right to try to transform another? Perhaps we just have to accept the way things are. You know, free will and all that... If we tried to change someone else, we would just be sinking to that level - coercion leaves a nasty taste in the mouth."
"Yeah, you have a point. Maybe I am being too vigilant."
"Maybe," I continued, "you could just let things develop with this brute in their own time," I suggested, letting the thought linger in the air between us for a moment.
I watched him squirm as he thought about what I had said. Then I watched as he stood up and left my office. It wasn't always easy being someone's mentor, especially when I half agreed with them.
It might never happen, that positive transformation might never occur, but who are we to judge it?
Greg - yup, they're still going. We go until the last Saturday in October (assuming no early arrival in the family).
Well, I'm glad the building wasn't a complete waste :)
Adam - glad you're finding it useful :)
Ah, I do enjoy silly little diversions that magically turn into missions that must be accomplished. Thankfully yours was aborted for a good cause!
Writebite - you make a good point. I still judge anyway, but you do make a good point :P
marc, so do i :D
The Mission
It feels odd to walk down the middle of four-lane freeway at midnight - like a really long parking lot with no lights. I keep expecting an eighteen-wheeler to come speeding toward me, but as I slip on my badge and walk toward the emergency lights ahead, I know that won’t happen. Now I can see the crater that destroyed the entire width of the highway, killing the president and half of his entourage. Everyone wants to find out who was behind this heinous attack, but of course my mission is to prevent that.
Writebite - :)
Aholiab - excellent opening line, it really set the scene. Could definitely see this being continued, and if you choose to do so I'd be happy to read it!
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