I have no idea how another week has gone by, time seems to slip through my fingers at the moment. Here is my weekly round up of writing challenge submissions, which is one short this week. Sorry Keith, if anyone fancies a writing challenge, he always has a wonderful picture to inspire :).
First, I wanted to share something that touched me this week. I participated in the last #1000speak campaign, which was building from bullying. I wrote about why bullying made me a better writer. I also happened to write a poem at the end of that post. The other day, a wonderful lady called Grace Durbin, turned my poem into a poster, and popped it on my author page. When I asked her why she said. “The words still echo in my mind. They should be amplified! “I will stand!” People don’t always like read blogs… But they love photos.” I don’t think I’ve ever been so touched in all my life. Here’s the poster:
Bacon discombobulated the unicorn because he was a fabulous vegetarian.
Next up the ever fabulous Charli Mills weekly challenge. This week she gave such an emotive personal intro to the challenge, I was touched and wanted to share something personal of my own. Her prompt:
April 8, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a renewal story that proclaims, “This isn’t the end; I will go on.” Think of the mythical phoenix that rises up from the ashes; of Cinderella after midnight on the night of the ball; of a hero that faces certain death; of love after tragedy; of renewing life’s lemonade transitions. Go where the prompt leads and own your story; the ones you’ve lived and the ones you imagine for fiction. Stand in solidarity with others to find the semicolons in life that chooses to nurture and not succumb. My response:
Infertile Isn’t Forever by Sacha Black
He shifted in his oversized office chair, neatened his white coat and adjusted his stethoscope.
“The thing is Mrs. Black, if you wait longer than 18 months it’s very unlikely you will be able to have children.”
My vision greyed. Nausea cut at my insides.
“But, we can’t afford treatment,” I whispered barely able to splutter a word.
“Sorry but, I can’t help you.”
I left, weak, broken and desperate. But my wife picked me up, carried me and dried my tears.
We fought together.
We sat, held hands and watched as two pink lines appeared on our stick.
I always do my own writespiration, and this weeks prompt was a little different, I hope it was thought provoking and moving. This was my response:
There was a line of oily hand prints and dirty finger smudges marking the edge of the glass dome. They were marks of the saved clawing at the glass, trying to wipe away blood smears of the infected still trapped inside. The longer they were inside, the harder it was becoming to see through the bloody fog.
I slammed my fist down on the glass dome.
“Hal, come on, that’s not going to help. You’re just hurting yourself.”
I slumped to the floor, fist still clenched.
“It’s my family in there, Kara, not yours.”
I peered up at her, tears filling her eyes.
“Hal, it’s been five years honey, you’ve got to let go.”
Her words were acidic, I rubbed my arms trying to rid myself of her pessimism.
“What have you lost? Nothing,” I spat. Tears tumbled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and started walking back towards New City. She paused after a few steps and rounded on me.
“What have I lost? I haven’t lost anything, Hal. I gained something. I dragged you out of that town clinging to your life. But you know what. It was you who saved me. I had nothing, you gave me happiness, a companion…” the words caught in her throat, her shoulders heaved up and down as she took huge gulps of air.
I looked at the grass and fingered the mutant blades, still tarnished by traces of chemicals poured into the dome. My heart ached.
“You have a choice, Hal. You have a new family and we can’t live in the dome’s shadow anymore. Stay here if you want…Stay with the past, a life that’s never coming back. Or come with me to the city and leave this behind for good.”
She turned her back on me and walked away. I stared down the dome’s perimeter. Skeletons of the desperate sat lifeless staring off into the dome; still hoping for a glimpse of something gone forever.
I had a family, a chance. I had hope.
I stood up.
Next Ronovan’s weekly Haiku this week the task was to include New and Time in a Haiku, which he reliably informed me is not 7/5/7 as google had told me but 5/7/7… (and then later came back and said he meant 5/7/5.. too late, I’d written this, so I will have to wait till next week to actually get it right!! anyway here goes:
If your bums not new
you make it like a baby,
by having nappy cream time.