Last night dreamt I was an astronaut, alone on the moon. My space suit shut me off from the featureless moonscape. I saw the earth-rise over the horizon, how lovely, serene, unreachable. I felt afraid. What if I could not return? Am I condemned to see it but never go back? When I woke a truth came to me in the dark. It was not the earth that I had seen. It was the rising planet of my own past years, the sum of all my terrible, unalterable days - inaccessible, untouchable. A dread world to which I cannot return.
It was clear they were in it together because they could not have scaled the wooden fence otherwise. They cannot have gone far, I called out to Dave as he began frantically searching the surrounding area; after all, they were carrying all they possessed!
Dave failed to hide his face as he followed me to the lane behind the fence to look further. I could see his cheeks were glistening.
I remembered reading somewhere that they could run half a mile per hour!
We might need our bikes; I called out to my wee brother Dave; tortoises are so fast!
Three losses in a row. Only one win in the last ten matches. The Front Office was furious.
Jose wondered how it had come to this. Just last year, his team was so close to winning the title. The fans were singing his praises. But now, they were calling for his head.
One loss away from getting sacked.
With only one week to turn this around, he began to study the films.
Jose quickly realized that his team had been too flashy; too careless. A far cry from the workmanlike system that his teams were known for.
She looks up through the leafy green canopy, sighing with contentment. Nibbling on a delicate shoot as she sits, she listens for any sound that doesn't belong in the cool shade of her sanctuary. She has everything she needs: fresh water, free food, and protection from the elements. There is a breeze today. Not the hot winds of yesterday, but moving air promising to cool the earth with rain. She turns her face toward her snack. A massive leather boot crashes down, too close for comfort. “Damn rabbit’s been in the beans again.” She hops away, hoping to remain unseen.
Our friends are staying. Their 11-year old daughter Jess has embraced the 100-word writing challenges I have thrown her way. She introduced us to 'Him' in a haunted house tale and challenged the 'grown ups' to write about Him. This is my take on it:
"She swung, legs kicking aimlessly as loneliness pecked away at her. Memories of waiting outside the workshop while the swing was made. She could hear the grating whirr of the saw and the whistling. She pursed her lips, trying to recreate the sound. Tears soaked her cheeks as the robin cocked his head, examining her quizzically. She felt comforted, the painful absence receding. Remembering the hand on her shoulder, her grandfather smelling of woodchip and oil. She missed him so, silently wishing they could share this moment. She felt the hand on her shoulder and sighed happily. It was Him."
It has been such fun writing with Jess ... the imagination of youngsters is something else. And, thank you, as a grandpa I wasn't quite prepared for how the poignancy of this would hit me!
A day when the world smelt like swimming pool, I was drowning in it.
The noise too noisy…
The people too present…
And regret of leaving the house was rapidly bubbling up inside me.
How I wished to be far away from this place.
I wandered, aimless, desperate for something untouchable.
The metro stairway was dotted with winos, the addicted and the homeless, all laying like discarded rags along the tunnel, the chlorine stench changed to ‘eau de public loo’, despair, I gagged.
Then I saw HER and all I could smell was lust…
collaboration with A hill and I (50/50 my half then Susies')
A day when the world smelt like swimming pool, I was drowning in it.
The noise too noisy…
The people too present…
And regret of leaving the house was rapidly bubbling up inside me.
How I wished to be far away from this place.
I wandered, aimless, desperate for something untouchable.
The metro stairway was dotted with winos, the addicted and the homeless, all laying like discarded rags along the tunnel, the chlorine stench changed to ‘eau de public loo’, despair, I gagged.
Then I saw her… and all I could smell was lust…
A collaboration with my daughter, 50/50 Rosie first!
I've been wanting to participate in these every week but I'm just so busy I hardly have the time. I thought today I would just do some free writing and treat it like a journal entry more so than a fiction piece. Here are my morning thoughts as I head into the weekend, as told in 100 words:
This was a rough two weeks for me as I am moving, packing, buying a house, selling the one I live in. That kind of pressure is enough to topple any rational human being. Couple all of that with planning my son’s second birthday and I bought near collapsed.
But then there was another added stressor. One I sort of knew was coming but tried as best I could to avoid and ignore it. Sometimes you can’t ignore or avoid the inevitable. I had a scare that I could lose my job. It came at me like a tidal wave.
Phew Erica, that is some load you are carrying. I hope there are moments at least where you can take a moment or two and take your cup of tea outside under a tree or similar and just be. 🙏
With 2 weeks to pack and move out my next couple of weekends will be even more stressful than weekdays where I just have to do my 9-5! lol But I’ll try!
Hope to do one later - I've had family staying! 😊
Excited to read it! Free Writing Fridays is intended to last the entire weekend!
Last night dreamt I was an astronaut, alone on the moon. My space suit shut me off from the featureless moonscape. I saw the earth-rise over the horizon, how lovely, serene, unreachable. I felt afraid. What if I could not return? Am I condemned to see it but never go back? When I woke a truth came to me in the dark. It was not the earth that I had seen. It was the rising planet of my own past years, the sum of all my terrible, unalterable days - inaccessible, untouchable. A dread world to which I cannot return.
This challenge prompted a memory.
Title: Bill and Ben
It was clear they were in it together because they could not have scaled the wooden fence otherwise. They cannot have gone far, I called out to Dave as he began frantically searching the surrounding area; after all, they were carrying all they possessed!
Dave failed to hide his face as he followed me to the lane behind the fence to look further. I could see his cheeks were glistening.
I remembered reading somewhere that they could run half a mile per hour!
We might need our bikes; I called out to my wee brother Dave; tortoises are so fast!
Here's my story for the day, Erica! https://arrivalsanddepartures.substack.com/p/the-peacock
Title: "Back to Basics"
Three losses in a row. Only one win in the last ten matches. The Front Office was furious.
Jose wondered how it had come to this. Just last year, his team was so close to winning the title. The fans were singing his praises. But now, they were calling for his head.
One loss away from getting sacked.
With only one week to turn this around, he began to study the films.
Jose quickly realized that his team had been too flashy; too careless. A far cry from the workmanlike system that his teams were known for.
Back to basics.
She looks up through the leafy green canopy, sighing with contentment. Nibbling on a delicate shoot as she sits, she listens for any sound that doesn't belong in the cool shade of her sanctuary. She has everything she needs: fresh water, free food, and protection from the elements. There is a breeze today. Not the hot winds of yesterday, but moving air promising to cool the earth with rain. She turns her face toward her snack. A massive leather boot crashes down, too close for comfort. “Damn rabbit’s been in the beans again.” She hops away, hoping to remain unseen.
Our friends are staying. Their 11-year old daughter Jess has embraced the 100-word writing challenges I have thrown her way. She introduced us to 'Him' in a haunted house tale and challenged the 'grown ups' to write about Him. This is my take on it:
"She swung, legs kicking aimlessly as loneliness pecked away at her. Memories of waiting outside the workshop while the swing was made. She could hear the grating whirr of the saw and the whistling. She pursed her lips, trying to recreate the sound. Tears soaked her cheeks as the robin cocked his head, examining her quizzically. She felt comforted, the painful absence receding. Remembering the hand on her shoulder, her grandfather smelling of woodchip and oil. She missed him so, silently wishing they could share this moment. She felt the hand on her shoulder and sighed happily. It was Him."
Wow, that's amazing!
It has been such fun writing with Jess ... the imagination of youngsters is something else. And, thank you, as a grandpa I wasn't quite prepared for how the poignancy of this would hit me!
It was one of those days
A day when the world smelt like swimming pool, I was drowning in it.
The noise too noisy…
The people too present…
And regret of leaving the house was rapidly bubbling up inside me.
How I wished to be far away from this place.
I wandered, aimless, desperate for something untouchable.
The metro stairway was dotted with winos, the addicted and the homeless, all laying like discarded rags along the tunnel, the chlorine stench changed to ‘eau de public loo’, despair, I gagged.
Then I saw HER and all I could smell was lust…
collaboration with A hill and I (50/50 my half then Susies')
SCENTED…
It was one of those days
A day when the world smelt like swimming pool, I was drowning in it.
The noise too noisy…
The people too present…
And regret of leaving the house was rapidly bubbling up inside me.
How I wished to be far away from this place.
I wandered, aimless, desperate for something untouchable.
The metro stairway was dotted with winos, the addicted and the homeless, all laying like discarded rags along the tunnel, the chlorine stench changed to ‘eau de public loo’, despair, I gagged.
Then I saw her… and all I could smell was lust…
A collaboration with my daughter, 50/50 Rosie first!
I've been wanting to participate in these every week but I'm just so busy I hardly have the time. I thought today I would just do some free writing and treat it like a journal entry more so than a fiction piece. Here are my morning thoughts as I head into the weekend, as told in 100 words:
This was a rough two weeks for me as I am moving, packing, buying a house, selling the one I live in. That kind of pressure is enough to topple any rational human being. Couple all of that with planning my son’s second birthday and I bought near collapsed.
But then there was another added stressor. One I sort of knew was coming but tried as best I could to avoid and ignore it. Sometimes you can’t ignore or avoid the inevitable. I had a scare that I could lose my job. It came at me like a tidal wave.
Phew Erica, that is some load you are carrying. I hope there are moments at least where you can take a moment or two and take your cup of tea outside under a tree or similar and just be. 🙏
Hoping the rough seas will calm once the move is done
Jeepers Erica... I hope your weekend is calmer, breathe deep, in out, in out.... xx
With 2 weeks to pack and move out my next couple of weekends will be even more stressful than weekdays where I just have to do my 9-5! lol But I’ll try!