The exercise:
Write about something that is: endless.
Spent most of the morning picking strawberries in the pouring rain. Good times. This is June, right? In Osoyoos? Yes?
Well then, could someone please inform the weather?
Mine:
The road appears to end, just a few, lumbering steps ahead. There is nothing beyond that point except for a complete, total darkness. No sounds escape from it, no scents, no life.
Upon reaching this seeming end point, everything goes black, as expected. There is a time of waiting, its length unmeasurable. Eternity beckons, but movement is impossible. There is no going forward or back, there is only this one place and nothing more.
At length a voice is heard, giving instructions and encouragement. Then a pinprick of light slices through the murk and begins to grow larger. It draws nearer, with increasing warmth and the rumbling of an oncoming storm.
It passes through and around, leaving a new road in its wake. With no alternative presenting itself, the endless journey continues once more.