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Gantry

I’ve started a personal challenge. One short story, not related to my WIP per week. It will be based on a writing prompt, between 2000-5000 words, and be completed in one day. No editing or rewrites(except a quick spellcheck). Critiques of content are encouraged. My week 1 prompt was this fellow here… Gantry stood on the overlook. The sheep in the field behind him, quiet in the early morning.…

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Bored

This is my week 2 writing prompt. I didn’t quite make it to my 2000 wordcount minimum but I got it done in one day.  “If I wanted to work late, I would have applied at a Mini-mart. At least there might have been some activity.”, Ava said, as she thumped her purse on the desk. “Quit your bitching, or you might find yourself there, yet.”, Brie said. She tossed her hair and began to pack her…

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              The yearly ritual began with a simple cup of coffee and the sunrise. Mornings were already feeling a little cooler. The woman breathed the salt air in deep and relaxed, almost meditating. The blue-jays in the nearby sycamore chased each other with a joyous freedom. She wondered if they could feel the change in the air too. Finally ready, she set her mug down and strolled across the deserted street. Her few year round neighbors were all still asleep or already off to work. Leaving her sneakers on the wooden fence, her toes felt sand for the first time in two months. A cool breeze played with her hair. The beach was welcoming her home. She made her way down the worn path that would soon be a memory. Her feet alone weren’t enough to fight off the inevitable build-up of sand. The drooping fence would soon be the only marker to the entrance. Coming over the last dune, she surveyed the unsanctified land. Under the scattered debris, the sand glowed yellow white. The city sent people out to clean the beach but there was always a lot of trash they missed. She didn’t really mind. In fact, there was pride in the growing bag of soda cans and hot dog wrappers she held. Halfway through, she had to shed the light sweater that she’d put on in hopes of it being cooler. It would be soon enough. Her patch of the beach wasn’t large, but it always seemed to attract the messiest people. She made sure to walk the whole thing. Reconsecrating it with her joy alone. It was only after erasing all evidence of the summer people, that she sank onto the warm sand. The ocean sparkled in the sun. Gulls dove into the surf and flew away with the small fish they’d caught. The tide rolled over her bare feet. She accepted the water’s blessing. This moment was what she’d been dreaming of. The ritual complete, she could finally relax. The silence wrapped around her like a blanket. She had only ventured here once during a seasonal siege. The noise had run her off before she could even touch the sand. There was no too loud radios or children playing to break the peace, now. Tomorrow, after the first swim of the season, she would bring her sketchbook and work on her newest masterpiece with her toes buried in the sand. The beach would be her’s until next summer’s invasion.

The Beach               The yearly ritual began with a simple cup of coffee and the sunrise. Mornings were already…

writer's block

writer’s block

I spent a long time looking for the right prompt. in the end I just wasn’t feeling any of them. So that’s what I wrote about. Hopefully, my muse and I will back at it next week… I stared and stared at the blank page, the cursor blinking impatiently at me. I’d been sitting at my computer for hours. If this had been just a few years earlier, there would be an overflowing wastebasket at my side. As…

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