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 |   Second blog -- answers to an ocean of prompts |
 "Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself." CHARLIE CHAPLIN  Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you. David Whyte        This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts. |
For "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"  Prompt: Write a story about a shipwrecked-adventure on an island. --- I don’t even recall being at sea, let alone being in a shipwreck. Yet, the evidence is there, in the broken, shattered parts of the vessel all around me. I rub my hands, then my toes together to get rid of the wet sand clinging to them. I look around. A rocky crevice. Does it open into a cave? Should I look? What if there’s an animal there? I give up, rising to my feet. The sand moves beneath my arches, tickling my toes and skin. I shuffle about. No one in sight, just a stretch of thick, dense woods behind the desolate shoreline. Such weird woods, though! Its trees are all colors. I recognize only a very few palms at the edge. Then, I notice the stones on an elevation separating the sand from the woods. Small, colorful stones and a couple of large rocks. My legs are weary and my feet itch. Without thinking, I amble toward one of the rocks. That should make a good observation point. “Don’t you dare!” I jump up rubbing my behind to ease the burning feeling. I turn to the rock. It’s smoking with a tiny flame on the side. “Don’t ever sit on me, again! You inconsiderate mortal!” A talking rock? “Sorry,” I mumble. “I don’t know how I got here.” “Obviously, you don’t. You mortals know nothing, accept nothing, understand nothing.” “Sorry!” My voice comes out in a whisper. “Stop saying sorry when you don’t mean it.” “How did I…I mean…get here? How do I go back?” “You got caught in the essence of an old titan. He does that sometimes, to get on our last nerves. As if it wasn’t enough turning us to stones!” “Those small stones, too?” I ask meekly. “Those are the sirens and nymphs the divine son of a god touched, under the titans' influence, for sure. Now, be careful. Don’t walk on them.” “But how do I get out of here?” I hear a sigh from the rock. “Me and my soft heart!” Another sigh and it continues. “Keep walking on the sand, but first take that dagger behind me. Who knows who you’ll meet on the way. When you leave here make sure there is not even a grain of sand on you, or else. Someone, something, will come after you if you don't shake off the sand.” I reach behind the talking rock. Sure enough, there is an object there. I reach for the hilt. The blade has a serpentine shape and is of bronze. It is fixed to the animal-skin-covered hilt. “Thank you,” I say. “I wouldn’t know how to use it, though.” “It works on its own volition. Now, go!” I step down onto the sand, my pulse loud in my ears for I am aware of the sharp dagger I am holding. I take several steps and, to my horror, I see the tide coming in to take over the beach. I close my eyes and shudder. When I open them again, I find myself in my living room, still holding the dagger. But… But my bare feet are covered with sand. Oh, My God!  For: "Space Blog" Prompt: Solace.Bring   ’s "Land of Poetry" “Somewhere over the rainbow and into the blue.” --- Somewhere over the rainbow and into the blue, the Eagle rises from the top of the fallen twin towers. This image has been with me ever since, although a phoenix rising from the ashes had been the original version. Then, another image with tears shining on the Eagle’s face. “Lest we forget,” says the Eagle. No, we won’t forget that! We won’t forget that freedom isn’t free. We won’t forget our gratitude for what we have, despite the negative elements that have sneaked in to fool the weaker ones among us. Despite the division and the pain they are causing. No, we won’t forget all that, Our Eagle! |
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