The blank page, take two ...

A while back I wrote a prompt about how much I hate looking at a blank page.  I have to jump in and write something, just so it's not blank anymore.  The positive side of that is that I get something done.  The downside of that is that sometimes what lands on the page ... is seriously terrible. 

If you've been following my blog, I'm sure you've seen examples of that.  I can't say I love every one of the posts I've written (and posted for the world to see ... what am I thinking?!!!).  What keeps me going are those magic moments when it really works, and the idea that was just a little spark starts growing in my mind and unfurling into something greater.

Your mission for this week, should you choose to accept it, is to read one of my previous responses ... not a previous prompt ... and use that as your prompt.

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My response:

I'm going to use one from just a few weeks ago, the one about the girl and the Lynad stone. 

My neck ached from bending to read, and my rear was sore from sitting.  Aside from Dr. Malard's ministering, the most exciting thing to happen all day was the arc of sunlight crossing the tiled floor.  It had been nice for the first hour or two.  Then I started hoping someone would drop in, maybe bring me a different book.  Isn't that how it worked in Harry Potter novels?  Someone got themselves injured, and all their friends bought them treats in the hospital?  I would kill for a bag of jelly beans, even the generic brand would do at this point, though I wouldn't turn down Jelly Bellies, either.

My ribs were still sore, but I had a sneaking suspicion they weren't the reason I was still in here.  After all, they did have the well-being of the other students to worry about, and I had, just yesterday, almost caused the death of half of the student body.  On purpose.  Maybe this was less of a sick stay and more of a prison.  At least, that's what I had decided when Lady Elda stepped through the door.

She was older than I remembered her, spots of gray at her temples and the crinkles by her eyes were deeper.  She offered me a sad smile.  "How are you today, Diane?  I'm sorry I couldn't come by earlier.  I had ..."  Her eyes met mine, and she stopped.  We both knew she'd been cleaning up my mess.

"It's okay.  I know you've been ..."  I couldn't maintain eye contact.  Guilt strangled my voice down.  "Busy."

She nodded briskly.  "Yes, and I still do.  But I had something else that's also important, and I didn't want to leave you waiting any longer than I had to."

I struggled to meet her gaze again, but she went on.  "I've explained last night's events to the board, and they've decided to give you a second chance.  There will be consequences, of course, but I think you'll agree I've compelled them to be reasonable.  In the meantime, I needed to return something to you."

My stone of Lynad lay in her palm, dark and lifeless.  I couldn't feel its pulsing power while it was in her possession, but my soul remembered it and longed to reach out and take it.  It took a minute before I realized that was exactly what she wanted me to do.

"Oh, Lady Elda.  I couldn't!"  I tucked my knees up underneath me, my arms squeezing them tightly to my chest.  "You saw what I almost did!"

Lady Elda laughed.  "Diane, the stone is not a weapon.  It is a tool.  And what you almost did doesn't matter anymore, because, in the end, you made a different choice ... a good choice.  And I trust you to use this as you should, from now on."  She sank down onto the mattress at my feet, tracing the lines in the stone with her fingertips. 

"You see, it's true the stones choose their masters.  When I was a girl, this stone belonged to my great-aunt.  From the first moment I touched it, it stopped working for her.  It became mine.  I was a lot like you, back then, and I had a lot to learn.  The stone helped me."  She looked up, and her eyes pierced my soul.  "I knew from the first moment you touched my stone that it wasn't mine anymore.  Maybe if I'd been honest with you, helped you then, you wouldn't have had such a hard time finding your way.  So, you see, I feel a little responsible for what happened, too."

I shook my head, but I couldn't speak to object.  Lady Elda took my hand in hers and dropped the stone into my palm.  It flared to life, it's aura erupting and embracing my own.  It felt warm and right.  I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it.  Then I looked up at Lady Elda.  If the stone once belonged to her the way it belonged to me now, giving it up must be breaking her heart.

For one brief moment, our eyes met, and I knew we understood each other.  Then she stood and swept out of the room, leaving me complete.

Silent Night

If not already clear from the rules, please make of this prompt what you like.  I did something for Halloween this year, and also Thanksgiving, so here's our Christmas prompt.  Feel free to write something religious, or go somewhere else with it. 

The prompt for this week: The night was silent ...

Enjoy!

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My response:

Inside the cathedral, the night was silent.  The thick, stone walls blocked out all the noise from the city, which was still with the deadness of deep winter.  The candles had long burned down.  The bells hung silent.  The steeple clock sat at one thirty two, as it had for the past ten years.

Miss Alexandra Rapture knelt in the third pew back, her knees on the pad, her shoulders hunched over, so no one could see her, without looking down the aisle.  Her dress floated out in a cloud around her, layers of muslin and lace, enough of it to outfit a small sailing ship, and a veil that hid the streaks on her cheeks, had anyone been there to see.  She'd stopped crying hours ago.  Her chest ached from sobbing, and her tears had simply dried up.  She suffered in stillness, eyes half open, chest barely moving with breath.

They would find her.  Tomorrow morning, when they came to the church, she'd still be there.  She had no where else to go, no other sanctuary to flee to.  She could not run to the hills.  Her feet had never known anything but silk slippers.  An hour in the forest would be the end to her, and she'd be back anyway.  She was not brave enough to cut her hair and hire onto a sailing ship.  Her fine, soft hands pressed together in prayer, worked pretty embroidery and waved fans.  She could not tie knots.  She didn't have the heart to take herself to the cliffs.  Sixteen years of her mother's instructions gave her just enough arrogance to be loathe to throw herself away.

But neither could she bring herself to smile as time marched her towards her fate.  She'd told Lord Craye she did not love him, had no desire to be his wife.  He'd arched his eyebrows and whispered in her ear that he was glad it was not her choice, then, for he would not give her up.

Alexandra sent up her last desperate prayers ... and all she got in return was the silence of the night.

It seemed as if there was a light within ...

First, my apologies for getting this done a day late.  Yesterday was crazy, as I tried to get ready for this:

It was a lot of work, but my homemade gingerbread house turned out amazing!  Okay, so I let the kids decorate (it may be a few years until I have a "perfect" gingerbread house), but I'm so pleased that the pieces worked and fit together, the royal icing held, and the candy windows worked even better than I planned.  I did put a normal bulb inside, so next year, I'll put in an LED, and I'll make the chimney an actual chimney, in case it does heat up.  The window panes are warm to the touch after about a half hour of lights.

So, because I was neglectful, our prompt for this week is: It seemed there was a light within ...

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My response:

"Now try this."  Lady Elda reached towards me and dropped something in my hand.  It was heavy, smooth and cold against my skin.  I lifted it and stared.  It was deep green, the darkest emerald I'd ever seen.  I squinted.  There was something in it, in the middle, almost as if there were a light within, like a candle burning on an window sill, barely seen through fog.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A stone of Lynad."  Her voice was rich with reverence, and the other students crowded around behind me, jostling me as they peered over my shoulder to see.

"I've never seen one!"

"I thought they were just a myth."

"Ooooh!"

"Like I said, it'd take a miracle for Diane to be able to touch magic." 

I felt a chill down my back as I recognized Miri's voice.  Arrogant.  Oh, how I hated her.  But for the first time, I felt defiance mingle with my hatred, for I could feel the power of the stone.  It was seeping through my skin, tingling and blending with my own aura, usually so dim.  I didn't hope I could prove her wrong.  I knew with a certainty that I would.

Fingers tight around the Lynad, I stretched my hand over the waves.  They crashed into the rocks I stood on, the salt spray stinging my eyes and wetting my cheeks. "Glacia."

Drops of saltwater froze in midair and dropped, clinking on the frozen sheet below.  All up and down the beach, and as far as I could see out from shore, the water was still.

Gasps sounded behind me.  Even Lady Elda choked.  As the murmurs died down, she held out her hand towards me.  "Well done, Diane.  I'll have that back, now."  Her voice faltered, as if she was afraid I wouldn't comply, and she didn't know if she could make me.

I took a deep breath, stared over the ice, and murmured again.  "Aqua."  The ice splashed back to life, the water unsure how to move together, its momentum gone from being frozen.  The waves were choppy and confused.  I could still feel the power of the Lynad pulsing with my own aura.  Lynad were said to have partners, people for whom they worked better than others.  This stone was my partner.  It felt it.  I felt it.  But today was not the day to claim it.

I held up the stone for everyone to see as I placed it back into Lady Elda's outstretched palm.

I forced myself to turn and walk away, but that was the day I decided I would find a way to reclaim what was rightfully mine.  Lady Elda's Lynad.

Nothing that a flower in your hair won't fix

This week, my inspiration is something I heard off the TV the other day:  "It's nothing that a flower in your hair won't fix."

Lovely.

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My response:

It felt like a dream, so surreal.  The lawyer's office was too typical, like something out of a night time drama, with wide, floor to ceiling windows and a glass table, framed with chrome.  The paper beneath my palm was too crisp, the printing too neat.  I waited for a moment to see if it would all disappear and I'd find myself in bed, next to Robert, warm in our flannel sheets, in spite of the cold of the apartment.  He never let me turn the heat up, but I kept the bed well stocked with blankets.

The moment passed.  I turned one more time to my lawyer for reassurance.  She nodded, her double chin shaking against the collar of her white shirt and black suit.  If I'd doubted anymore then, my shaky signature at the bottom of the page confirmed it.  No flourish, just a stumbling acceptance.

I swallowed hard, wrapped myself back up in my coat and scarf, said my goodbyes and headed out the door.  Clocks chimed as I strode down the street.  Only two blocks to the apartment.  Two blocks to the empty space that wasn't home anymore.  My feet hesitated, and I came to a stop on the sidewalk.  People passed on either side of me.  It was New York, after all.  They're all too busy and too used to crazies to look up or care.  They just tuck their heads down and duck to the side.  I stood like a boulder in the middle of the river, waters parting on either side, unmoving.

Across the street, the corner deli was lit up in green neon.  We ate cheesecake there the day we moved in, and the turkey Panini was to die for.  Then the waitress bumped Robert's arm and made him spill his Earl Grey down his shirt.  We never went back, no matter how strong my craving for cheesecake. 

I sucked in a lungful of crisp, smoggy air, like I'd been drowning.  I let it out, shuddering, and turned.  I hopped across the street, dodging cars.  They had five different kinds of cheesecake, and I bought a slice of each.  Large pastry box in hand, I skipped home.

One bite of cheesecake cured me of my ills.  I whipped off my scarf and danced to the thermostat, cranking it up.  Then I pulled out my tablet and booked a flight to Maui.  There was nothing wrong with me that a flower in my hair wouldn't fix.

Sunflower

Because it's cold and miserable outside, I'm going with something warm and lovely.  Here's a picture prompt from my summer.  Maybe if I stare at it long enough, I'll forget the winter weather outside.

 

 

Enjoy!

 

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My response:

 

He watched her climb the hill in the dying light.  She'd managed to finish her chores before sunset, her Mama's requirement if she was going to visit him.  Her amber hair, escaped from her bun, stood in wisps around her face, reflecting the light of the sun like a halo.  The hem of her blue dress hung, heavy with mud, over her bare feet as she trudged up the hill.  She was too old to go around without a pair of shoes anymore, but no one had told her that.  Her apron had a smear of soot from the charcoal stove, and a matching spot stained her cheek.  When she looked up and smiled at him, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. 

 

He picked up the small bouquet of wildflowers he'd gathered on his lunch break.  They'd wilted, sitting too near the forge.  He held them out to her, anyway, and earned another smile.