One liner

And I had so many plans to write, write, write over the Christmas break, but too much "stuff"  got in the way!

But I'm back on track, starting slowly!

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 13 - A Great One Liner...This week you need to come up with one good line to describe a part of your day. It can be 'real life' or fiction. But it must tell us 'who did what'. It has to be an amazing line, like a tiny little paper plane that must travel a big distance (figuratively speaking) with only a few folds ... Every word in that line must earn its place, or be cut as excess baggage. Let's get thinking about each sentence as though every word counts, like working one group of muscles to show how much weight they can carry.

Caught mid-snarl by the bleep of her i-phone she turned from her tired mother, and reading the message, a glow of delight shone from her gold-blue eyes.

No going back..

I've had the pleasure of doing a written interview for Sarah on her awesome blog in the past week. She talks about "that space in between..." all sorts of things, the space between being a woman with no children and then a mother, the space between lost and gone, and many other thoughtful concepts.
I joined her with my space, one that is on my mind a lot at the moment - the space between me as a mother of semi-dependent children (teens) and the space that will gape as I transition to an empty nester, whenever that ends up being. I wrote this with a gentle sense of melancholy...
Have a look at the post here.

Nineteen

I'm still going with trying to link my pieces into an ongoing story starting with Sacrifice , then Secrets  and next...

Nineteen

She’d  been in labour for 16 hours and had tried her  best to relax and go with the flow, but the agony in her back was unrelenting, even when the contractions relaxed. The knowledgeable ones had stolen concerned glances at the tracings of her baby’s heart beat and with the rustle of a white coat, a decision was made. Nineteen was the last number she remembered counting before she slid under the heavy influence of the anaesthetic, like an exhausted sailor unable to keep himself afloat.  As Ella slowly drifted to the surface of her awareness, she could hear a baby’s snuffle and mewl as she groggily opened her eyes.  She watched her mother next to her, entranced and counting tiny digits, “my darling, she’s so perfect, so just like you”.

photo from http://curiousphotos.blogspot.com

Glorious Luang Prabang

washing day for the monks

I loved reading Jennifer’s post about Elephant riding in Luang Prabang, Laos. This is my favourite place in the world, having discovered it 2 years ago. We had a glorious week there and I long to return. Sadly, the Western World will change it, and as with many Indochinese countries, this will happen quickly. A saving grace for Luang Prabang, though, despite its International airport, is its inclusion on the UNESCO World Heritage protected list .

So, back to the Elephants – we too went elephant riding and whilst I adored the elephants, such sage creatures, I missed out on Jennifer’s joy. My overwhelming emotion was terror, not of interacting with these magnificent creatures, but of being up on top of them. I had an uncontrollable sense that I would fall off (and my son and I were on the big one!). The children, of course, thought this was hysterically funny, which was good really, as it did help me loosen up, except for my arm muscles which were clamped tightly to the seat.

me looking calmer than I felt  - check out the mahout texting as we ride!

The others were brave enough to ride on the neck of the elephant and were charmed by the way it wrapped its ears around their legs to hold them steady when going downhill.

Hang on!

 Another highlight of the stay was the morning procession of monks accepting alms. A very peaceful, gentle morning ritual. As I write this and look through my photos, yet again, I yearn to return.

The morning procession of monks

Ricketty bridge - did I really walk over this?

Utopia - an aptly named cafe/bar/restaurant on bamboo platforms up above the  river

Secrets

I'm trying to take Gill's good advice from Inkpaperpen and draw out some of my work into longer pieces by running stories together, so here goes - this follows from Sacrifice which you can read here

“They’ll always catch you up”, Ella's Grandma had said. Wiping her hands on her checked apron, she turned and shook her head at the 5 year old licking the mixing spoon – “they’ll always catch you up , secrets and lies”.

She gently smiled at the memory as she considered what to do, to keep it a secret or to tell? No-one really knew, they had their theories of course but no-one knew who the father was, not even him.  For the moment she could hold her knowledge close, it didn’t matter, it had no bearing on today or tomorrow or the next day.

WoW - Notre Dame de Paris

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 26 - Look at the photo at the top of this post. What does it inspire in you? Set your timer for 5 minutes. With the photo in mind, write the first words that come into your head until the buzzer rings. If you aren't a visual person, you could try lighting a few candles and writing by candlelight. Different sensory experiences can be useful for inspiring creative writing so please play around to make the prompt suit your writing needs. If you do try writing by candlelight, let us know. I'd love to know how it works for you!


Link here for this week's WoW Notre Dame de Paris

I don't know why such a grim story came to mind...

She slid into her head, dredging memories from her past as she gazed at the flickering flames . The thick sandstone walls were cold and still, she shivered slightly and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The world had changed – what had once been condoned by silence was no longer ignored, but that was of little consolation to her. As she knelt, she wondered why she had – kneeling felt like what she should do in such a place, but prayer would not come to her.

She saw her young self, innocent earnest face above white robes as she followed the holy man, walking in his footsteps and self opened in trust. She fleetingly felt the confusion again, before she closed down the memory.

She stood slowly and turned toward the back of the church. For the last time, she gazed at the beautiful glass windows, bathed in candlelight. She thought of the implications of her next move, of the telling and the consequences. Wondering if she had the courage to go through with it, she knew that she must.

Sacrifice

Link here to Lillie's blog to participate!! Five Sentence fiction
What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.

This week’s inspiration word is: SACRIFICE

Ella sat at home alone, eyes fixed forward and her mottled skin lit up by the screen she faced. She scrolled through the pictures of longhaired girls in formal dresses, pink black blue, towering heels, on arms of pock faced laughing boys. A tear slid the length of her cheek as her blurred eyes read through the comments, the tags, the joy and the fun. As she straightened her spine, sighed and awkwardly stood , she told herself again  – my life will be different. She caught her breath as she felt the kick inside and instinctively cradled her belly – yes, I have made my choice.