"Blogging Circle of Friends "
DAY 2056 July 6, 2018
Use these words somehow in your writing- enchanted, twilight, fireflies, rose, carousel, lion, and tinman.
The old porch fan rattled and buzzed each time it completed it's wide
arch rotation, an offending interruption to the otherwise soft summer
evening soundtrack. Ella quickly padded across the porch in her bare
feet and switched it off. She returned to her swing and curled her long
fingers around her still steaming mug of
rose tea. She watched the
fireflies
painting brief and brilliant patterns of light all across the wide open
field. The haystacks stood like silent sentinels against the darkening
twilight.
Ella sat back, feeling for just a moment, a bite of pain in her stomach
that took her breathe away. It was fleeting spark but she knew it would
be back. Soon Ella knew she would need to swallow more of the little
white pills to keep the pain from radiating through her guts, stretching
its cruel fingers through her joints and delicate organs. The pain was
getting harder and harder to contain, certainly an unwelcome but not
wholly unexpected side effect of the cancer. Ella tried not to think
about the pain now. She focused on the sweet chirping of the peep frogs
and the gentle rustle of the tall grasses as the night breeze picked up
and raced across the fields. Ella leaned her head back and closed her
eyes. She soon slipped into her memories...
A much younger Ella raced through the gates of the tri-county
agriculture fair. As she ran, her long dark tresses flowed out behind
her, the only feminine thing about the rail-thin girl in the dirty
overalls and duck boots. She was immediately assaulted by the smell of
cinnamon sweet fried dough and fresh spun cotton candy, her favorite
treats. She barreled past the tempting vendors all the same, heading to
the carousel. They always set it up dead center of the fair and there
was always a line. She heard the carousel's rousing tune before she saw
it, rising up like an mirage from the dust and grime of the fairgrounds.
Ella was enchanted by the
carousel. It was an antique marvel of
engineering and art. Instead of horses, the carousel was made up of wild
animals imported directly from the plains of Africa. The animals were
beautifully crafted, the mahogany creatures painted and polished to a
high glossy sheen. The elephants had tusks that looked like real ivory
and the giraffes gazed at you with deeply soulful eyes. The hippos were
comically wide, their wide mouths open revealing fat pink tongues.
Nothing could have been more exotic to a farm girl from the Midwest and
she would ride it several times, every day the fair was running. Ella's
favorite though was the African lion. There was only one of those, a big
male with a russet colored mane and broad back and massive paws. He
looked so alive, the incarnation of all the power and might one would
expect from a king. She loved the lion and there was little that came
close to the joy she felt slipping onto his smooth back and wrapping her
fingers around the leather halter looped at the beast's neck.
Ella reached the spindly gate of the carousel, alarmed to see she was
pretty far back from the front of the line. She watched the other
children hand their tickets to the attendant and gleefully charge up over the
sides and clamoring for their animal of choice. Several children began
to bicker over the camel and Ella saw one little girl struggling to
climb the lion's flank. Disappointed, she stepped aside when she
reached the front of the line explaining to the stoic attendant that
she would wait for the next ride. He looked down at her and shrugged with a
tin man's indifference, and left to check that the riders were
all properly seated before putting the carousel into motion with a palm
punch to a large red button.
Ella rode the carousel that day a record sixteen times before her parents
made her go home. It would be the last year the carousel came to the
fair, having been replaced the very next fair by a shoddy operation with
dully painted horses sporting wide eyes and gaping mouths that Ella
thought looked macabre. These new horses bounced under the riders who
reached for tiny gold rings and they swirled past. She never rode that
carousel. Oddly, it held no magic for her.
The rising pain brought Ella to the the surface, trailing her fading
memories like a gossamer wake. She opened her eyes and found her tea was
cold and the night had fallen like an inky curtain. She slowly sat up,
the pain now a hot cinder in her side. Ella pulled herself to her
feet, gritting her teeth against the agony. It made her light-headed and
her vision blurred. She rubbed at her eyes and her knuckles came away
with a coating of hot tears. Then, off in the distance, she caught of
glimpse of something through the veil of water in her eyes.
She limped
down off the porch and into the yard, straining to get a better look at
the thing that was impossibly perched on the edge of the farthest field.
Ella's heart rallied even as her brain told her in no uncertain terms,
that the thing was absolutely not that magnificent carousel from her
youth. But, as Ella drew closer, she saw that somehow, indeed it was the
very same one. Her ears began to pick out that familiar lilting tune and there,
yes, right there as he'd always been, was the lion. Her lion.
Ella
barely registered the pain now, it was as if it was fading, giving her
space to breath again.
With an energy that surprised her, Ella rushed the last few yards to the
gate. She swung it open and stood, looking at the beautiful beast with
his flaming mane and soft eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, Ella
swung herself up, onto his broad back. She pressed her cheek against his
cool smoothness, closed her eyes and felt the carousel begin to slowly
move.
"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"
Day 1662 July 6, 2018
You've met three people on your way to do an errand. They're all talking
about something they overheard but are positive you're the reason it's
happening. Are they right or wrong? Weave us a tale about the three
people and yourself and whatever is happen
Christina felt the frown forming despite her best efforts to keep it at
bay. She knew the three women were talking about her. Not for the first
time that day, Christina cursed the small town with its limited
resources and its one and only, tiny pharmacy. It was hard to avoid
people in a town this size, the very reason she had left for the big
city with its legions of bustling strangers. There had been an absolute
certainty she was going to run into someone she knew on the brief dash
into town but here she was, annoyed to find it had happened after all.
Despite her mother being a bit of a recluse, she had been well-known in
town and the rumor mill was incredibly small but efficient here.
One of the women had clearly been appointed as emissary. She made her
way toward Christina, rearranging her features into a mask of sympathy.
"We were all so sorry to hear about your Mother. She was such a nice lady. You look just like her!"
Christina bit back an acidic response and only nodded, allowing the
woman to rub her bicep awkwardly for a few moments before she spun back
to her troops. The pharmacist called her name and Christina rushed up
and snatched the bag and dashed out of the store.
What could she have expected? Of course her mother's death would be
fodder for the people she lived, or mostly, lived among. Though Ella has
been private, most people had known about the cancer diagnosis and of
her stubborn refusal of treatment. They had all known she preferred to
live out her days in the farmhouse among the fallow fields her family
once tended, despite the doctor's advice and Christina's agonized
pleading.
Two nights ago, Christina had gotten the call she had long dreaded. Her
mother had been found, inexplicably at the far edges of the family
property, just lying in the field. She had passed away sometime in the
night and by all accounts it had been a peaceful passing, even though
given the late stage of her disease, she must have been suffering in
considerable pain. The man who found her told Christina she had looked
like she was sleeping, dreaming the most wonderful of dreams. Her plain
face rendered beautiful in death by an oddly childish smile.
