Prompt: The spirit within me honors the spirit within you

Thanks to “Elemental Jess” for sharing this beautiful prompt!

Jessie was fourteen months the first time her parents took her to the zoo. She still had that jerky, just-learned walk and a tendency to sit down suddenly. But not for long. She didn’t want to ride in the stroller when she could move under her own power. It took a lot longer to go from one exhibit to the next that way, but she loved every minute of it, and her parents loved watching her see all the animals in real life and not just on TV for the first time.

They watched baby baboons tumble and lemurs sitting in a row in the sunshine. They bought a little cup of nectar to feed the butterflies, and when they dipped Jessie’s fingers in, she held out her hand and let three butterflies land on it. Then she tried to kiss them and they fluttered away. The elephants were getting a shower, and Jessie laughed to see them spout the water out of their noses and over their backs.

She rode on the carousel zebra, with her Daddy holding her on the saddle and Mommy taking pictures and waving when they rode around. She wanted to go again, but they said, “Next time, honey. Let’s go see the lions and tigers.”

The Big Cat House had just finished their feeding time, which Daddy had wanted to see, but Mommy gently suggested might be a little scary for little girls. Most everyone had wandered away, talking about how the lion charged the handler at the feeding tube and roared in anger when the handler stepped safely away. The lion had gone outside to sleep in the sun.

Jessie climbed out of the stroller again when they came into the big building. She ran from window to window, leaning against the glass to look for animals. Mommy pointed two windows down, where a tiger was pacing back and forth. Jessie ran to it and leaned with both hands on the window to watch.

The tiger chuffed as it walked toward her. They could hear it through the glass, a deep grunting sound. It came right up to Jessie and leaned its face down to hers. Mommy and Daddy watched carefully, ready to swoop her up if she were scared. She laughed. “Kitty!”

The tiger leaned down on its forepaws, then lay straight in front of Jessie. It bowed its head and put an enormous paw against the glass, covering Jessie’s hand. She stroked the glass and kissed it. “Kitty!” she cried again.

Mommy thought the tiger wanted Jessie for a snack, and she picked up Jessie to walk away. The tiger lay its chin on its paws and whined. Mommy turned around and stared. Jessie reached for it. It lay still and looked up at her with unblinking golden eyes. Mommy shook her head and leaned down to let Jessie stand on her own again.

Jessie ran a couple of steps and reached out her hands, smacking them on the glass with an echo. She pressed her face against the glass again. “Kitty!” she whispered.

The tiger pressed its nose against the glass and once more lifted its paw to cover Jessie’s hand.

Mommy said, “Jessie, do you remember what we do at the end of our yoga classes?”

Jessie stood and put her hands together. She bowed to the tiger. “Namaste, Kitty. Namaste.”

Dogs in house:	Houdini
Time writing:	25 minutes
April word count:	3198

Prompt: The Last Human Voice You’ll Ever Hear

The atmosphere was thick with chlorine gas, glowing a sickly green in the distant sunlight. Tricky navigating, and I wasn’t about to rely on the navsat systems under the circumstances. I figured I was the most highly motivated system to get out of here alive.

“…you. Bartam 5, do you copy?” My radio crackled to life. I’d about given up on it.

I kept my eyes on the view and tapped the comm panel. “Bartam 5, copy. Coming down now. Atmo’s like pea soup. Give me some good news, Houston. Bartam over.” Static, silence, static. Same old song. No other station. I left it open just in case and headed for a break in the cloud cover.

If I could get through the gas clouds, there was supposed to be a layer of plus-four atmosphere on the ground. Hard on the body, but it wouldn’t kill me. As long as I could get a system scrub every 72 hours or so. First I had to get through the chlorine, and then the minefields. Yes, someone beat us to this little galactic resort paradise and mined the g-d atmosphere when they left. Guess they planned on coming back. Frankly, I couldn’t see the appeal.

Well, other than the g-d fortune in P4 minerals, of course. And the diamonds. Four times the atmospheric pressure meant intensified mineral development. The scientists back home wet themselves every time a new rock was delivered. We were all getting filthy stinking rich in the process. Even a lowly flyboy like me. Although right at the moment, it looked like rich and dead might be my next classification.

I broke through the gas clouds right on top of a concussion mine. The blast bounced me along the cover like a lucky pinball strike, but I managed to level out and get low enough to stabilize. The g-d mines didn’t register on the navsat, of course. Another reason I had to fly solo. I coasted for a moment and let my eyes adjust to the thick, clear air. There was another mine. And another. Gotcha, little tick-tocks. Now my eyes and brain had keyed in, I could see them everywhere. Still not a cakewalk, but I felt a little more confident that I could reach the ground in one piece.

“…coming…don’t…surface... Bartam 5, do you copy? Jestic 8 is coming. Don’t go atmo. They have strict orders. No surface retrieval. Bartam 5, do you copy?”

“Too little, too late, Houston. Ship damage required escape. Three good pods got out and I took rover. Rendezvous at Shangrila. Don’t abandon us, Houston. Tell Jestic 8 this beach party will need more beer in 72 hours, Houston. Bartam 5 over.”

“Houston” was the core space station, of course. Officially it was SS4, but spacers are nothing if not nostalgic. I liked to imagine they still worked in a big room with lots of vid screens and slide rules on their desks just in case.

“Don’t…punk, Bartam 5. No contact…pods. Abort…juice…out? Houston over.”

Did I have enough juice to get out? I shook my head. If they could see the shape of this rover, they’d know why I hadn’t brought anyone else with me. I figured it was a suicide run, but better a dead man’s chance than staying on board the ship. I kept dodging mines as I made my descent and headed for our rendezvous point.

But where were the other pods? They should be setting up the shelter at Shangrila already. We had been a little creative naming the key features of this God-forsaken planet. Shangrila was the relatively stable southern tip of the larger continent. In the four months we’d been out here, it hadn’t shown any more geological disturbance than a couple of earthquakes. No tidal wave submersion, no volcanic activity. We’d decided it was our best option for setting up an emergency shelter station until Houston sent in a rescue squad.

My radio had returned to static, but I tried to answer anyway. Who knew what was getting out? “We ran out of options, Houston. Send Jestic to rescue us at Shangrila. Bartam 5 over.”

There, I could see Shangrila on the horizon. I grinned and ducked under another mine. I was too cocky. The second concussion blast took out port engine. I flipped and started to nosedive, but I pulled it out and banked into a spiral descent. I’d be lucky if I got to land, not to mention within 3 days hike of Shangrila at this point. My chances of survival just took another nosedive from scratch to nil.

“He called me a g-d punk. That can’t be the last conversation I have. They’ll put it on my epitaph. Okay, then, punk. Land this piece of junk in one piece. Let’s get this party started.”

I gritted my teeth and stretched out the downward spiral, leaning forward like I could push the rover myself. I had to get it all the way to Shangrila, or we wouldn’t have enough equipment for the emergency shelter. I had to believe the others were still coming down in one piece. I didn’t want to be alone on this rock.

TBC (maybe)

Dogs in house:	Houdini, Maize, Malachi
Music:	Yo Yo Ma, Simply Baroque
Time writing:	45 minutes
April word count:	2636

Prompt: I Am Beauty in Your Eyes

Thanks to Szymon Drozd for permission to share this beautiful prompt!

“Would you like to go to the lake this afternoon?”

He nodded, and she gathered a few things into a basket and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Though they were both wizened and bent with age, she lifted him easily. He rested his head on her shoulder as she carried him from the cottage.

Walking steadily across the grass, she described everything she saw, building the familiar pictures in his mind. High white clouds dotted the bright blue sky, and the spring breeze blew fresh scents around them. The sun warmed the lake to a silver mirror, reflecting the mountains on the far shore, still capped with late winter snow. Bluebirds and golden finches darted between the fresh grass in the meadow and their nests in the slow-greening trees, bringing seeds and insects for crying fledglings, barely stopping to rest and feed themselves.

When she reached the water, she walked in with barely a splash to mark their passing. It felt cool against her ankles and calves, warming as it reached her knees and thighs. By the time his body floated within her embrace, the water felt like a fire-warmed bath. She never slowed or faltered as she crossed the bay to the shore that stretched like a long finger into the lake.

Two chairs rested there, carved years ago when his hand were strong and his fingers sure with a sharp blade. She carried him out of the water and gently settled his light frame into one of the chairs. She lifted the blanket from his shoulders and snapped it in the air to collect the warm, fresh breezes. She settled the dry blanket around him, and he kissed he hands as she tucked it against his slight shoulders. Reaching down, she kissed his forehead and cheeks before she settled into the other chair.

They rested in companionable silence as the sun crossed the sky and dropped behind the mountain range.

“My only sorrow of old age is that I will leave you, my dear,” he said. An old lament, and one she could no longer deny to either of them. She held his hand to her lips and tenderly kissed his fingers, washing them with her tears.

“I have two sorrows, my love. I wish I could keep you with me forever. And I wish I could be as beautiful for you as I once was.”

He chuckled, a light, raspy sound that faded quickly on the evening breeze. “I have no wish to be a grasshopper, beloved.” Another old joke between them. “Everything mortal must die.”

And there it was.

“As for you other wish, it has always been true. From the first moment I saw you until the last bit of light in my eyes, you have been beautiful. Your face, your body, your voice are still beautiful to me.”

Her laugh was harsher, more desperate. “I have aged with you, my love. Many things I am, but beautiful is no longer one of them.”

He reached out and touched her cheek. She leaned out of her chair and knelt in the sand at his feet, resting her head on his lap. He stroked her soft, white hair, once gleaming gold. His papery-thin hand, webbed with fine lines and old scars, lifted her face to his. He looked down at her with sightless eyes, still piercing blue in the fading light.

“My love, my love,” he chided her gently. “You are and will always be beautiful in my sight.”

She rested her cheek back on his knee. “Are you cold? Shall I take you back home?”

“No, let’s rest here awhile. The memory of the sunshine lingers in the air.”

After awhile, his hand stilled. She did not move. As long as she stayed there, just so, she could pretend for a little while longer that he was still with her. That she was still as old as he, a mortal woman, growing old with her beloved.

Dogs in house:	Houdini, Maize, Malachi
Music:	Bach, Cello Suite No 1, Yo-Yo Ma
Time writing:	40 minutes
April word count:	1774

Prompt: Lady of Fire

 Thanks to Alexandra Semushina for permission to share this stunning visual prompt!

Hurin was struck motionless when he saw the lady walking along the rocky shore. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Her long red hair tumbled in curls and waves down to her waist, and her bright red gown had drapes and fancy lace from her neck all the way to the ground. The skirt was so long, it trailed behind her as she walked. But what made him stare was her parasol. It was on fire. She twirled it in lazy circles above her head. And then a bit of fire plopped down on her hand. She lifted it to her mouth and ate it, smiling like it was a delicious treat.

The lady looked up and saw Hurin staring at her. Her smile didn’t change as she glided toward him. He wanted to move, to run away, but his feet were rooted in the ground and he could not move.

“Handsome boy. What’s your name?” she asked. Her voice felt like a smooth touch against his skin. Huron shivered and shook his head. He didn’t want to tell her, but before he could stop it, he blurted out his name. His eyes widened and he tried again to turn, to run away. She reached out and ran a finger down his cheek. He was afraid her touch would burn, but her skin was cool against his. She tipped his face up to hers.

“Hurin, come with me,” she said.

“I don’t want to,” he said, and he blushed furiously. He couldn’t seem to stop the words, the truth.

Her laugh was like chiming bells, and she took his hand and laid it on her arm. Hurin wanted to run in the other direction, but his feet started walking next to her. He looked up at the flaming parasol. She glanced up and said, “Why don’t you want to walk with me, beautiful Hurin?”

“I’m afraid,” he whispered. A bit of fire dropped on her arm next to his hand, but she didn’t’ seem to notice. He stared and saw that it didn’t burn her dress. It fizzled and disappeared while he watched.

Her voice caressed him again. “Why are you afraid, Hurin?”

He looked up at her, and her eyes were full of kindness. He couldn’t remember why he was afraid.

“What am I, Hurin?” she asked softly.

“A fire eater,” he whispered. But he wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Yes, that’s right,” she whispered back. The flames dropped from her parasol all around them. Hurin watched one fall on his hand, and she reached over to scoop it up on her finger. She held it to his lips. “Taste it, Hurin. It’s delicious.”

He couldn’t stop himself. He leaned forward and licked the fire from her finger. It didn’t burn his mouth. It felt soft and warm and bubbly on his tongue. He swallowed and felt it trail down his throat into his belly. He laughed, and she laughed with him. She slipped her arm around his waist and hugged him close as they walked along the rocky shore.

Dogs in house:	Houdini, Maize, Malachi
Music:	Bach, Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor
Time writing:	~30 minutes
April word count:	513