The exercise:
Write about: direction.
Bit of a rainy, dreary kind of day here, which meant not a whole lot of time outdoors. I did, however, take Max bowling after lunch with my parents while Kat was finishing up her online course.
He had a great time (until he started getting tired), not caring about silly things like knocking pins over, or even getting balls all the way down the lane. Plus he was an excellent cheerleader whenever he wasn't trying to bowl or bowl out of turn.
Mine:
I'm lost in the forest,
A compass spinning in my hand;
Need to find a way out
Of this dark, godforsaken land.
How can I figure out
Which way is east, west, up or down?
How am I supposed to
Find my way to the nearest town?
Hunger and thirst haunt me,
While unseen beasts sniff at my tracks.
Do they miss me back home...
Or have I fallen through the cracks?
4 comments:
It was quite a bright, warm day here, though the rain crept in a little in the evening. Only light spitting, but still enough for women to get their umbrellas out and menace the population. Max sounds like great fun to take bowling. You should get a Max-sized hamster ball so that he can roll down the lane himself and try and knock the pins over! (I'm assuming this is the bowling alley you worked at once and so can get in after everyone else has finished :) )
The second stanza of your poem made me smile, with the idea that even telling up and down apart was difficult: that's quite the forest you're lost in! There's a general sense of foreboding and a slightly ominous tone that's very appropriate, and the last couplet is quite delicate, reminding the reader that we're rarely the only ones affected by our circumstances. Nice work!
Direction
"...and then the cable lands in the swimming pool, killing all of One Direction."
"Why do all your plans involve killing One Direction at some point?" asked Eliza. She and Robbie were stood just outside the Diary room; Robbie had been updating the viewers on how Mars-Mission-Training was going and Eliza had been there as a technical advisor. Apart of having have to correct him on travel-time to Mars ("Three months Robbie, not light-years and not parsecs"), and how they'd land ("No, there won't be a splash-down. Not if we get it right, anyway..."), she felt it had gone quite well. Only now, when she'd stopped to chat with him and maybe find common ground, he was on about killing pop groups again.
"Well, they deserve it, don't they?" said Robbie. His face was still slightly chubby even though the Mission's doctors had put him on a diet and a strict exercise regimen and his hair was short and stood up on his head like a bottle-brush.
"I... I don't think I've ever paid them any attention," said Eliza. "I always prefered Saint-Saëns when I was studying, and the complexity of some of Mozart's piano works is astoundingly beautiful. I don't care for his operas though; too comedic."
Robbie's eyes glazed over a little. "I think there was a Sancerre with the food last night," he said earnestly. "I didn't listen to it though. I just drank it." His eyes crinkled a little at the edges as though he was about to start crying.
"That's fine, Robbie," said Eliza, suddenly too weary to comfort him again. "So why do One Direction deserve to die?"
"They wouldn't let me join," said Robbie. "Apparently I can sing better than them all."
"Really/" Eliza's eyebrows nearly lifted off his face with the speed with which she raised them.
"Yes! Here, I'll sing Poker face for you!"
"Please don't," said Eliza, turning on a heel and walking off.
So I know this is a stretch, but before I realized what had happened, my writing became this:
Direction:
The woman before me began to move, raising her arms out in front of her before bringing them to either side of her body. Right before my eyes, her arms seemed to become like water; each movement as they reached and pulled was gentle yet purposeful. I was nearly mesmerized by the creamy white motion but my mind was stuck twirling over questions upon question. Who was she? What was this strange woman doing? Why did she possibly think this dance of sorts would aid me? At the thought of my trials, my eyes briefly flashed towards the wooden blockade concealing the only clear path out of the forest.
Before me, the logs rose into the air one by one, as if pulled upward on a string. Each way the woman moved her arms, a subsequent log was pulled in that direction. My mind suddenly went blank except for one question I thought I would ask myself.
So the tales of the woodland fay Tirella spoke of were true?
Direction:
Suddenly, as he pushed the button marked 'Up', I felt the whole room begin to tremble. Then, without warning, boxes, clocks and everything else in sight zoomed upwards with great speed, crashing headlong into the ceiling. There were deafening sounds as objects collided with one another and the whole room went dark as the bulb was smashed into fragments. Some vases and bowls shattered upon impact, and I crouched down and covered my head, waiting for the inevitable shower of sharp fragments. But nothing happened.
I looked up warily. The fragments were sticking to the ceiling as if held there by an unseen hand. I turned my gaze to the scientist. He was smiling at my confusion. "I invented this dial. It can change the direction of gravity for all non-living things within a particular radius. The moment I push the 'Down' button, everything will come hurtling towards us."
"Please don't" I begged, but I wasn't able to conceal my amazement at what had just happened.
Greg - the hamster ball sounds like a blast, but the alley I worked at was in Osoyoos. Unfortunately :P
Robbie's obsession with killing off pop bands pleases me to no end. Even if it's only because they wouldn't let him join :P
Ivybennet - stretching is good. Sometimes my attachment to the prompt gets pretty tenuous by the end :)
This is a neat little scene, made all the more surreal by the logs moving to the dance.
Nikhil - hah, I know a few people who would hit that Down button with little to no warning :P
So I appreciate that your scientist showed some restraint!
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