Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Sunday September 13th, 2020
The exercise:
Write about: doubts.
Was going to do Hindsight today, but I caught a migraine yesterday afternoon and it's still bugging me. So putting effort into writing will have to wait until at least tomorrow.
I hope the migraine goes away after a night's sleep :) I can't imagine that writing goes well with constant head-pain.
Doubts The torches went out within five minutes of each other. First Ben's guttered and turned into a thin column of black smoke, then mine followed thirty seconds after. None of us said anything, but we all looked at Jimmy's and realised that we'd really not paid enough attention to the torches, so it was with a sense of resignation that we found ourselves stood in the dark with the last smells of charred pork around us. "This is a bit of a pickle," said Ben, the glow from the end of his cigar now our only light. It illuminated nothing, which seemed metaphorical somehow. "Last time it was this dark there was a snowstorm." "What?" I'm not sure Jimmy meant to ask that question, it sounded like it was startled out of him. A lot of Ben's stories start that way though. "We'd been up to Maine," said Ben, puffing on his cigar. I coughed as the smoke washed over me. "We were lobster fishing for a season, or at least we'd intended to until we found out how you catch lobsters up that way, and given our doubts about it, it seemed a mite easier just to look around for other work. But we'd ended up on a lobster boat anyway that day--" "Hiding from an outraged husband," I interjected. "-- for whatever reason," said Ben calmly, "and there were thick grey clouds everywhere--" "-- the engine had caught fire --" "-- shut up, Red. The engine had, in fact, caught fire due to an accident with some spilled fuel oil--" "-- and a lit cigar --" "--shut up! and so we ended up with the boat settling in an isolated cove for repairs, just down the coast from Dunwich and Ben and I got out to have a look around and found that there was a path up to the top of the bluff that protected the cove. Then it started snowing, and we ran to the only house that was up there for shelter. We had our doubts about it with it being all boarded up but we found a way inside before we froze to death, and then the storm really hit. Being in an abandoned house, all boarded up, with the night and the storm coming on -- it was about as dark as this." "Thanks," said Jimmy, sounding nervous. "That helped a lot." "Actually it did," I said. "There's light in the direction we've been going. Not much, but it's there. Wouldn't have seen it if we hadn't had time for our eyes to adjust." And there was; greyish light that just distinguished from the darkness. Not much, not enough to see where we were stepping, so it was slow going until the light got stronger, which it gradually did. To the point that we could actually see where we were going, and the walls of the tunnel we were walking through. Finally we realised that we were seeing daylight; golden sunshine spilling through the mouth of a cave entrance up ahead, and we sped up just a little, despite how tired we were, happy to see fresh air and the sky again.
Greg - indeed. Writing and everything else, really.
I'm glad to see the boys have made it back to daylight, at least. Time shall tell what else awaits them there. The back story was, as always, much appreciated as well :D
2 comments:
I hope the migraine goes away after a night's sleep :) I can't imagine that writing goes well with constant head-pain.
Doubts
The torches went out within five minutes of each other. First Ben's guttered and turned into a thin column of black smoke, then mine followed thirty seconds after. None of us said anything, but we all looked at Jimmy's and realised that we'd really not paid enough attention to the torches, so it was with a sense of resignation that we found ourselves stood in the dark with the last smells of charred pork around us.
"This is a bit of a pickle," said Ben, the glow from the end of his cigar now our only light. It illuminated nothing, which seemed metaphorical somehow. "Last time it was this dark there was a snowstorm."
"What?" I'm not sure Jimmy meant to ask that question, it sounded like it was startled out of him. A lot of Ben's stories start that way though.
"We'd been up to Maine," said Ben, puffing on his cigar. I coughed as the smoke washed over me. "We were lobster fishing for a season, or at least we'd intended to until we found out how you catch lobsters up that way, and given our doubts about it, it seemed a mite easier just to look around for other work. But we'd ended up on a lobster boat anyway that day--"
"Hiding from an outraged husband," I interjected.
"-- for whatever reason," said Ben calmly, "and there were thick grey clouds everywhere--"
"-- the engine had caught fire --"
"-- shut up, Red. The engine had, in fact, caught fire due to an accident with some spilled fuel oil--"
"-- and a lit cigar --"
"--shut up! and so we ended up with the boat settling in an isolated cove for repairs, just down the coast from Dunwich and Ben and I got out to have a look around and found that there was a path up to the top of the bluff that protected the cove. Then it started snowing, and we ran to the only house that was up there for shelter. We had our doubts about it with it being all boarded up but we found a way inside before we froze to death, and then the storm really hit. Being in an abandoned house, all boarded up, with the night and the storm coming on -- it was about as dark as this."
"Thanks," said Jimmy, sounding nervous. "That helped a lot."
"Actually it did," I said. "There's light in the direction we've been going. Not much, but it's there. Wouldn't have seen it if we hadn't had time for our eyes to adjust."
And there was; greyish light that just distinguished from the darkness. Not much, not enough to see where we were stepping, so it was slow going until the light got stronger, which it gradually did. To the point that we could actually see where we were going, and the walls of the tunnel we were walking through. Finally we realised that we were seeing daylight; golden sunshine spilling through the mouth of a cave entrance up ahead, and we sped up just a little, despite how tired we were, happy to see fresh air and the sky again.
Greg - indeed. Writing and everything else, really.
I'm glad to see the boys have made it back to daylight, at least. Time shall tell what else awaits them there. The back story was, as always, much appreciated as well :D
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