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| The water didn't reach up this far, but I seize on any excuse to purge crap. |
So, want to join us? Set your timers for five minutes and write whatever comes to mind. This month's prompt is:
Escape. Would she tell her mother? Would she leave at night? Pack in secret? Steal?
Or would she ask for a tribal meeting to request her release, pleading for a return to Hill Country with a promise to mend the hostilities between the two nations for good.
What a foolish idea. No member of the tribe would be allowed to leave. Unless they were feeble of body or mind. Then they were be escorted to the edge of camp and bid farewell.
Every able person was needed here to sustain the tribe. It was a hard, hard life with few of the celebrations that her mother said happened in Hill Country.
- Cyd
~~~
The last few nights she had a recurring dream about…
... pirates, of all things. Pirates? When had she ever even thought about pirates?
It was considered a bad subject among sea captains, but surely they talked about them!
Pirates and one who had long red hair, billowy and full,
wielding a huge sword, but in pants, in spite of the hair. Then at the last,
the red-headed one was wearing a dress – still on shipboard, even near the
helm, but wearing a dress. Her hair was still full.
How did it start? Oh yes. From high up, looking down at the
deck – decks.
Two ships. Two decks, and this red-headed beast standing
tall. Oh! Slashing off heads, ears, arms and every part of a man she/he could
find. Ugh. A man crawled away. She – it was
a she – took no pity.
-Bette
~~~
The last few nights she had a recurring dream about ...
...floating, floating in air.
She couldn’t wait till bedtime, as soon as mom said, “Lights out!” She was in
position, stretched out on her bed without covers and she waited. Sometimes it
took longer than other nights to take off, but as each night rolled around it
became easier, almost routine. She closed her eyes and counted backwards from
100. That made the magic come sooner. Then she felt it, her body rising up
higher and higher as she floated above her bed. Then with a quick sweep to the
window, she unlatched the sash and out she went, the cool night air caressing
her and the stars lighting her way. She soared through the sky like Peter Pan
and Wendy Darling…soon... she would get there soon... she would find out why…
-Donna
~~~
The last few nights she had a recurring dream about...
... falling from the sky. The surge of patchwork fields, the question about the enemy, the plane...her friend. The fear washed over her like a dark silk blanket...rippling, touching, warning, questioning. What is to be? Who will be there? Will I survive? Will they remember me? "Look up! Swim for the surface!" Cottonball clouds, blue sky, silence, white safety-net billowing. Peace. Don't think. Just survive. Survive...now push down deep.
-Maggie
~~~
The last few nights she had a recurring dream about…
... a small toddler. She, the dreamer, was visiting a family
unknown to her when she found a toddler unattended. She offered to take the
child out into the street for some fun. In the dream, she put a leash on the
toddler to keep track of him. They went together into a busy street. There were
people of all colors, sizes, shapes and ages walking together. They seemed to
be all occupied with their own business, whatever that was. She heard a
multitude of languages.
Suddenly the leash got separated
from her and the child wandered in the crowd. She called his name, which was
“Jose,” but he didn’t return. Then she was back in the apartment with the child
missing. She waited for the parents to return but they didn’t come home. She
knew she should do something but she couldn’t determine what it was. She paced
and fretted. She thought she might call the police but she was uncertain how to
do this. Finally she heard the words, “You will die if you don’t reunite the toddler
with his parents.” She fretted all night thinking she should do something but
couldn’t think what it was. This dream came every night for five nights.
-Elizabeth
~~~
The last few nights she had a recurring dream about…
...Nuns. Lots of nuns. She couldn't explain it, but there was something spectacular about cheeks squished to red apples by a too-tight wimple. And don't even get her started on those long black robes. The starched white pinafore put her over the top.
She wanted to ask, "What is worn under that robe?" but, like a Scot's reply about a kilt, she knew nothing was worn under the pinafore. Everything was in fine working order, thank you.
So innocent. Such a perfect disguise.
A day later, she stood in front of the jewelry counter a Neimann Marcus.
"This crucifix is stunning in rose gold and two carats of diamonds. Don't you think?"
"Oh, yes!" A thud and breaking glass. "So sorry! How clumsy of me!"
-Me
