Prompt: I'm afraid of ending.

"I'm afraid," I wheezed into the dark room, barely louder than the machines tirelessly pumping air and blood and medicines to keep me alive.

She turned her head, resting her cheek on the sheet next to my hip. She couldn't hold my hand or lie next to me anymore. The slightest pressure tore tissue and broke bones. I pushed my hand closer to her head and slipped my fingers into her hair. That didn't hurt. Much. 

"I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of ending. Being dead. Confined in a box and buried in the earth. Or burned." I shuddered.

She nodded silently, rubbing her head gently against my fingers. 

"I don't know what's going to happen next. I hope my spirit or consciousness will stick around to haunt you, baby girl."

She smiled, a slight twist of the lips that once laughed so freely.

I huffed once and felt the choking threaten deep in my chest. I stilled and focused on even breaths so I wouldn't tear my lungs up any further. 

"But I promise you, whatever I might be after this body dies, I will never. Ever. Want to be in it again."

She did laugh then. And cried. She nestled her head against my hip and closed her eyes, humming the lullabies I used to sing to her every night. 

"Come away with me in the night..."

I closed me eyes and felt her voice on my skin, sliding down my ears. 

I would miss this. Living. 

#

#

And so, with a loving heart, I offer you

Namaste

I’ve heard many translations. Here’s my favorite:

The light of the universe that shines within me recognizes

the light of the universe that shines within you.

#

Prompt: Misjudged by appearance, Part 2

…Continued from Part 1

Shelly ignored the watching foreman as she stroked this digger’s teeth and lip. When it started to rumble, she picked up the saddle reign and ran her hand down tot he bolts buried in the digger’s neck. She would no more ride a digger without checking the animal and gear than she would step onto a shuttle that hadn’t been properly inspected. Another test.

Finally, she popped a piece of dark rich chocolate into her mouth and tucked her foot into the stirrup, pushing herself up and swinging her other leg over the digger’s back and into the saddle.

The foreman squinted up at her. “What’s the chocolate for? Never saw that.”

Shelly grinned down at him. “I like chocolate.” She shrugged. He laughed aloud and stepped back to the fence.

Shelly didn’t ride with reins. If she had to use them, she had already lost. She rubbed her left leg back and forth against the digger’s side until she found the open rib bone. Tucking her ankle under it, she nudged with her foot. The digger snorted and turned to the right. Shelly found the right side rib and repeated her maneuver. It only took a handful of times for the digger to understand what she wanted, and she had him walking in a line near the fence, around the paddock. She headed for the open pit and turned the digger in to find a bare spot on the ground next to it.

Leaning forward, Shelly spread her fingers wide n either side of thedigger’s neck and slid them down in a swift cutting motion. She lifted her hands away and slapped them high up on the digger’s neck, sliding them down again. The digger lifted his head and roared. Shelly flattened against his back and held on to the saddle ropes.

The digger opened his mouth wide and plunged down, slmming into the dirt with a bone wrenching blow. His teeth sank through the hard, dry soil, and he pulled a biteful for the first time. He reared his head up again and roared in ecstasy, then plowed down again and again, dredging up huge mouthfuls of dirt with each blow to the ground.

Shelly kept a close watch on his progress, nudging him from side to side with her feet on his open ribs. Finally, she began to sweep her arms up, rather than down, until the digger stood silent and sweaty by the square pit he had dug.

The foreman clapped loud, slow handclaps as he approached them. “You’re your Daddy’s girl, all right. Impressive riding.  Clean him up and come back tomorrow. I’ll keep you busy.”

Before Shelly could thank him, he whirled on his boot heel and jogged toward another digger and rider. She watched for a moment and shook her head. The rider was an idiot. She had her work cut out for her.

TBC?

Music	Sting, “St Agnes and the Burning Train”
Time writing	~60 minutes
May word count	12,985

Prompt: Misjudged by appearance, Part 1

The foreman eyed Shelly up and down with a dubious frown. She kept her hand in her pockets and her mouth shut. She needed the work. He just needed a moment to adjust to the idea of a woman handling a digger. She was used to it.

“You’re Cyrus’s girl, huh? He was a good man. Best rider I ever knew. Shame what happened to him.”

Shelly ducked her head. She didn’t talk about her Daddy. Ever.

“Are you sure you know how to handle this thing?”

Shelly didn’t feel the need to answer that directly. She just gave the foreman a level look and turned to the digger shuffling behind him. It was a full-grown male, twice as large as one of the old elephants. Shelly untucked her hands and held them wide by her face, slowly waving them to get the digger’s attention. He shifted his head and whuffed in her direction, blowing dust over her worn black boots.

She started a rumble deep in her chest, and the foreman grinned, stepping back to let her approach the digger. Testing her. She ignored him, focused on the big male. Still waving her hands to make her face look larger, and direct his attention to her eyes, she slowly stepped forward, stopping a few feet in front of the beast. His ears twitched in greeting, and he lowered his head, his mouthful of jagged teeth swinging close to her.

Suddenly Shelley was two years old again, her Daddy holding her tight as she buried her face in his neck. The digger musk combined with his own skin and soap until she couldn’t tell them apart. Daddy and Digger smelled the same to her.

“Diggers teach us not to judge by appearance,” Daddy said, his deep voice rumbling beneath her. “People are terrified of them, but they are the most gentle souls I’ve ever known.” He started his rumble, sort of like a cat purr, and Shelly felt him lift his free hand to pet the digger facing them. She felt its hot breath on her skin, in her mouth.

Turning her head to the side, Shelly squinted her eyes open to see the giant digger. She reached out her little hand next to Daddy’s and ran her fingers over the jagged teeth crowding out of the digger’s mouth. “He’s rumbling, Daddy!”

“He likes you.”

“I like him too.” Shelly sat up in Daddy’s arm, turning so she could reach her hand up under the digger’s lip like Daddy was doing. The digger rumbled, and Daddy rumbled, and Shelly tried to rumble, too.

By the time she was four, she could rumble deeper and louder than most riders. She rode in front of Daddy on the broad saddle, and he taught her everything he knew about riding diggers. By the time she was six, Daddy would have let her ride alone if their foreman would have let her. By the time she was eight, Daddy was gone. They said it was a digger, but Shelly never believed it.

Continued in Part 2…

Music	Sting, “St Agnes and the Burning Train”
Time writing	~60 minutes
May word count	12,985

Prompt: Love for You

Thanks to Katarina Zirine for permission to use her beautiful "Love for You"!

Seriana swept her outstretched fingers over the tall golden-red grass as she walked across the field under the brilliant sunset colors of the clouded skies. Her shoulders twitched as her gossamer wings fluttered behind her. Slender and clear, they would not carry her for many moons, until she had chosen her life’s purpose. By then, they would have stretched and grown thick and strong, bold and jewel-toned like her mother’s, or delicately tinted like her sister’s.

“Why don’t males have wings?” she had asked as a child. Her mother had laughed out loud, and her sister had giggled behind her hands, but they didn’t have an answer that made any sense to Seriana.

With no males in the House, Seriana could only watch them from a distance. Her sister seemed incurious, but she was about most things except their mother’s power. Seriana had no heart for political games. She wanted to explore the world. She wanted to understand. Everything.

Her childhood wings had withered and fallen off two winters past. She had buried them and danced with her crèche-mates under the next full moon, before she returned home to her mother’s House for the first time. She missed her friends, their laughter, their play, their touch.

Her mother only touched her to spin her around after supper and examine her budding crystal wings. “Hmm,” she would mutter, or a casual “Good” as she patted Seriana’s back, then turned away. Seriana had dreamed of her mother’s love for as long as she could remember. Now she cried herself to sleep at night and pined for her crèche.

A tall stalk of grass seed tucked between her thumb and finger, jolting her from her reverie. She stripped the seeds from the stalk in a smooth pull and held them in her palm. Looking up at the moon, already glowing in the darkening sky, she made her first choice toward her life’s purpose.

Sweeping aside her long golden curls, she bent her lips closer. “I have love for you. Find me.” She blew the delicate red seeds, and they fluttered into the air, opening into tiny hearts as they drifted away. Unseen behind her, the edges of her clear wings faded to a delicate ink, and then purple…

Dogs in House	Houdini
Music	Sting, “St Agnes and the Burning Train” and “Fragile”
Time writing	~35 minutes
May word count	9,796

Prompt: The stories these walls could tell

Thanks to Luke Neff for his great collection of writing prompts!

Ana had been unpacking when she realized Sarah was being uncharacteristically quiet,. That was usually—always—a bad sign. Sarah crawling was harder to manage than the infant lying on her floor blankies, that’s for sure.

She had walked down the hall, peeking into box-ridden rooms, then moving on. She didn’t stomp or hit the walls, because she was curious to see what Sarah was actually doing. She came around the corner into the living room and found Sarah pulling the wallpaper away from the wall.

Ana stomped on the floor, and when Sarah whipped her head around, Ana signed angrily, “Sarah, stop that!” She rushed to pull the curious toddler away from her latest misadventure.

Oh great! She thought, as she swung the startled girl up onto her hip. More work to be done on the house. Remind me again, why did I think I could buy a fixer-upper?

Sarah was leaning to get down, and Ana bent to allow her escape. She tapped Sarah’s forehead to get her attention. “Leave the wallpaper alone, Sarah,” she signed again. True to form, Sarah crawled right over there and pulled on the faded, formal 1980s design. She pointed underneath and looked up at Ana with her raised eyebrows “come see” look. Ana sighed and kneeled down to take a closer look at what had captured Sarah’s attention.

Newspaper lining? There were typed pages under the wallpaper. That’s going to be fun to get off, she thought grimly. And then the line of text under Sarah’s chubby hand caught her eye.

…tapped Sarah’s forehead to get her attention. “Leave the wallpaper alone, Sarah,” she signed again. True to form, Sarah crawled right over there and pulled…

Ana snatched the paper from Sarah’s hand and pulled it farther away from the wall. She leaned closer and began to read…

Dogs in house	Houdini
Time writing	15 minutes
December word count	5,803