Category: Uncategorized

Action: Doing yoga
Word: Nail
Word Count: 98

Namaste

The teacher’s soothing voice prompts instant immersion into the flow of stillness. Awareness heightens. Breath deepens. Essence awakens. Practice begins.

Decades of devotion to pretzel positions and odd angles have taught me to balance on a pinhead and align my limbs, straight as a nail, steel strong.

Outside class, it is not quite that simple. Easier to be knocked off center, rocked off course. To feel more like putty than iron.

Still, the accumulated years of effort enable me to experience the organic oneness of energetic movement.

The universal pulse.

The heartbeat of being.

The aum of life.

Action: Playing the piano
Word: Grass
Word count: 98

Magic Carpet

The daily routine was never mundane. Each time she lifted the piano lid, a fresh quiver of excitement flashed through her body.

Eighty-eight keys to the kingdom; a blessed bestowal. Their playing a promised gateway to the celestial music of the spheres.

As fingers flowed down the river of lilting harmony, her mind drifted gently toward a childhood memory.

A beautiful summer day alone in the meadow, she sat on a rock whistling a blade of grass, a playful kazoo. Even then, her little tunes beckoned the angels.

Now, she wonders, which key opens the door to Paradise?

Action: Unwrapping a gift
Word: Life
Word Count: 100

Christmas Present

The silver foil’s glittery snowflakes refracted brilliant tree lights. The package sparkled and shimmered; a matching ribbon twinkled its stars.

Excited anticipation welled up. What might this gift be?

She paused, reflecting upon the dominoes of Christmases past now colliding, knocking over the years leading up to this moment.

How often had blissful fantasies crashed into painful reality? Promises unkept. Dreams unfulfilled. Talents shackled. Loves lost.

This child’s game cannot be played by the faint of heart.

Too pretty to open, she was slow to unwrap it. If she had learned anything in life, all that glitters is not gold.

Action: Writing a letter
Word: Hair
Word Count: 92

Dear John

Unblinking, the blank page stared. Its glaring whiteness a challenge, a mocking salvo daring her to take the first shot.

Pen was poised, ready to strike, but not one cell mobilized to honor her command. An inner battle of clashing thoughts raged, paralyzing her.

Body in suspension; memories bubbled to the surface. Youthful optimism. Passionate love. The moments his hands reverently stroked her lush blonde hair.

Those locks were broken years ago. The key to his heart got lost along the way.

What words, said now, could salvage the spoils of war?

Action: Sunbathing
Word: Ball
Word Count: 99

Sandcastles

In a low-slung beach chair, my legs yawned. Toes wriggled the warm, dry liquid. Ankles offered a tasty feast for sand fleas.

The afternoon sun, a potent narcotic, infused me with blissful intoxication. Imagining namaste, I silently greeted the waves.

Half-mast, my languid gaze followed the gulls poking the shoreline’s grit, seeking bounty from the sea.

A drinking bird desk toy floated through my mind.

Groggy in this driftwood state, the nearby volleyball match was a remote din. When their wayward ball rolled to my feet, I made no move to retrieve it.

My sandcastles were too far away.

Action: Walking in the woods
Word: Dog
Word Count: 100

The Fairies Glade

A typical Irish morning, gun-metal gray mist shot a damp chill into my bones, triggering involuntary shivers.

Meandering the nearby wood, I mused about the recent encounter atop Blarney Castle. To kiss The Stone, I lay supine, lowered my head into a crevasse, face upside down, and smooched the slimy surface of the ancient rock.

This bestows the Gift of Eloquence?

I stepped more cautiously. A hush pervaded the tomb of flora and fauna. I imagined the fairies merrily dancing upon a grave.

Not visible, a feral growl pierced my fog. The wild dog lunged.

I couldn’t say a word.

Action: Washing dishes
Word: Laughter
Word Count: 94

Washing Dishes

The moment her hands immersed in the hot sudsy water her thoughts flowed into familiar reverie. Blankly, she stared as multicolored food remnants blended into mud and swirled down the drain.

A voyeur, she peered out the window, spying the next-door neighbor children playing “Tag” in their back yard.

Such joy, the tinkling bells of innocent voices unrestrained. Her sacred music. In perfect harmony, their mirth crescendoed to high pitched shrieks of laughter, just as the kettle on the stove reached its boiling point and wrenched her back to make tea.

Dinner was over.

Action: Walking down the stairs
Word: Dream
Word Count: 89

Jacob’s Ladder

Manacled by cinder blocks, her dragging feet paused at the top landing. Gulping clear air, she fortified herself, knowing the murky sludge would rise to greet her as she descended the stairway. It would become difficult to breathe.

She pondered her next step.

If only she could decode the cryptogram of events that led to this moment. Figure out who the puppeteer was, pulling the strings, choreographing the ups and downs.

Would a different choice at any juncture have altered the trajectory?

Such an ugly nightmare, this beautiful dream.

Action: Building a home
Word: Similar
Word Count: 92

Her New Home

Tap, tap, tap. Bang, bang, bang. Workmen shout, bossy yet collegial. Buzzing saws, a hive of activity.

The foundation is laid; walls arise. Vacant portals await windows to let in the light.

That gaping entranceway feels unprotected, exposed to the wild. Quickly, hitch the door, keep it under lock and key.

A fresh scent of sawdust prickles her nose follicles – an aroma oddly similar to the smell of ash from a dying fire.

The skylight will offer a thrilling gateway to the stars, but what galaxies can she see from enclosed space?

Action: Flying in a plane
Word: Bump
91 words

Take Flight

The soft hum gathered into a deafening roar as engines fired up, preparing for launch.

I braced myself in the upright position. Trembling with foreboding, fearful of flight.

The thrill of gliding mid-air on the wings of angels had shattered in an instant, transformed irrevocably into terror after 9/11. No measure of rational thought budged me from the pathological need to stay planted on terra firma.

But I had to go.

As the aircraft lifted gracefully, riding the jet stream current, I felt something.

A thump. A bump.

What was that?