Postcard #44 Elysian #atozchallenge

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Elysian; beautiful or creative, divinely inspired, peaceful perfect.

Dear Violet,

The world is quiet here. Well, it would be because I’m alone on an island! This morning, I found the most beautiful seashell yet. I drew it for you, but I don’t think it does justice. Recently, I’ve felt so inspired as if something greater, beyond us, has influenced me. I’ve been drawing, writing and reading a lot more. It’s so peaceful here, it’s almost too perfect! And yet when I think back to how things were before….I realise I would take all of this over that any day.

Yours in hiding,

L.

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Age #TaleWeaver

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Sometimes it was just nice to sit down in silence and think. The park at sunrise was my place to go and do that. Nearly everyone was still in bed and there weren’t many cars on the roads. My favorite bench was at the far side of the small lake, further in then all the other resting spots. It give a great view though and if joggers, dog walkers and early starter workers were around I wouldn’t see any of them.

Age was getting to me though and it was a struggle to rise at four or five in the morning. Let alone hobble all that way! Getting the bus was easier, but sometimes I didn’t make it in time to see the sun began to rise. I tried not to let it get to me, the same way one might an illness or an argument. Like a circle though, it keep coming back around.

You don’t really think about mortally when you are young. You believe you are immortal and your life is too busy to stop and ponder deep questions like that. Though death is close at hand for us. He doesn’t care what you are doing when he sees your number is up and it’s time for him to come to take you.

Death is a friend of mine. That seems strange to say but he’s taken my three wives, two sons, my oldest brother and sister, my parents and grandparents too. He’s been apart of my life since I was born. I’m not afraid and I’ve always known I wasn’t going to live forever. That realisation helps as you age and you are just waiting out the days.

I’m following in my dad’s footsteps once again. We all do that you know. As young people we say no! I won’t become like my parents, I’ll be better or even worse if that’s what it takes. But then, we slowly become like them. Little habits they have, become our own. Voices that sound like them in moments of anger or sadness. We phrase from ourselves to them and back again, another circle that can’t be broken.

The sun rises and I feel the warmth on my dry, wrinkled skin. I wonder if there’s anything beyond this life. I’m not sure I want there to be. One life has been enough for me. I’ve said my peace and that’s all.

(Inspired by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/03/15/tale-weaver-163-aging-15th-march/ with thanks).

Dark #writephoto

The first snowflake fell onto my book’s open page before I could turn it. I paused, tutted and watched the flake melt into a water dot over a word. Turning my head up, I saw the sky had grown dark with heavy unfriendly grey clouds. It was time to go home.

Gathering my things, I knew everyone thought I was strange. Why would a young woman go out to the lake to sit and read in the snow? I liked the peace and the distance from people. I didn’t feel the cold at all, in fact, I didn’t feel anything and hadn’t since the incident.

With everything neatly placed in my army hiking bag, I began walking back. The snow was deep but my footprints from hours ago were still clearer. I traced over them but the opposite way this time. The wind picked up as more snowflakes began to fall. I powered on, enjoying the feeling and sight of raw nature.

I almost slipped into the lane but was able to hold on. There were a few four by four car tire tracks marking their way through the snow. A few meters up, off to the side lay an abandoned blue car, half buried in the snow. I had checked as I’d arrived and no one was inside, thankfully. They’d have frozen out here.

A few minutes later and I’d arrived at the edge of the village. The tops of houses stuck out of the snow like early spring flowers. Nobody was walking the streets or driving down the roads. They were all inside, sat by fires, keeping warm and safe. I should have been so too, but there was only so much of being inside I could handle.

I needed to be out, feeling all kinds of weather against my skin. Doing something physical and being my past self. I wasn’t very good at being a ‘normal person,’ it had been sort of trained out of me. I had liked that life, it give me my place in the world but now on almost permanent leave due to injury and mental health problems, everything had been turned around.

Reaching the front door of my parents’ cottage, I didn’t want to go in. The urge to stay outside lingered. However, the wind was really howling and blowing now heavy snowflakes into me. So unless I wanted to get lost in a blizzard and or possibly die, it was time to go in and find another way to spend my time.

 

(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2018/03/01/thursday-photo-prompt-dark-writephoto/ with thanks).

Mellifluous (Part 1) #atozchallenge

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Mellifluous; sweet and smoothly flowing sound.

It was her favourite thing to do after work. She would sit back, put the headphones over her ears and find some music to suit her mood. Sometimes it would take a few tries, but then she would hit a smooth song that would be sweet to her ears.

She would relax and let the sounds carry her far away. She’d leave everything behind; her troubles, her thoughts, her dreams, her body. She would drift on a cloud of notes, high above everything, where nothing could touch her.

And there she would find it; nirvana.

River

Green Trees Beside Body of Water

The river was so reassuring in it’s constant movement. The sound of water flowing over rocks and tree roots as it passed through the forest was like the drum beat that kept everything else going. It was in fact the core of the circle of life but it could also symbolism so much more. Power, determination, cleansing and unity. The river did not seem to care about it’s small beginnings or it’s eternal joining of the sea, it just followed the set path before it and allowed it’s voice to be heard by anyone who would listen.

In The Forest

Person, Forest, Outdoor, Standing, Back, Looking, Wood

Only in the forest did she feel at peace. Crunching over too dry grass and old leaves, she wandered on. Bird song vibrated the air and the scent of pine hung heavy. She hugged herself, feeling a strange, small chill. Even though it was almost summer, this deep amongst the trees it was still cold.

Spotting the fallen log she always sat upon, she went over. Sinking down, her jeans protected her from most of the rough bark. She noticed a small burnt patch on the ground to her left and decided that someone recently had light a small fire. She put her hands between her knees to try and keep them warm.

She shut her eyes and began mediating, letting go of everything with each exhale. At the back of her mind, she knew when she opened her eyes again she’d feel better.

Postcard 18

Postcard, London, Big Ben, Phone Booth

Dear, L. I hope this message finds you well and alive. London or what is left, is in total ruin. Red smoke covers the sky all the time and if you don’t wear your gas mask the toxic air gets to you within minutes. I try to remember the good days when we were all together and happy, but they are fading fast from my mind. Life goes on in the camp, but it can’t even be called that, its a battle to survive everyday. I hope you are at peace whatever you are doing now. I pray for your safe return or else to see you on the other side. Love always, Boo.

The Swimmer

As Dan swam another length of the swimming pool his mind began to empty. It was too early for much cohering thinking and his body was running on auto. The splashing and movement of water had become a backdrop as well as the other people that surround him. For a fleeting moment, he prayed to have a pool all to himself then he shut his eyes and swam on.

Completing another lap, Dan grabbed the cool lip of the pool’s edge and let his feet rest on the bottom. He scrubbed his fading tan face and pushed back his short black hair. Bobbing in the lapping water, he watched a massive woman stepping down the ladder. He give thanks that she was in a covering swimming costume that safely hide much of her bum and belly.

He watched her get in and some of the water escaping out as she did so. Her boobs were so huge his eyes couldn’t help but be guided towards them. She turned and smiled at him. He quickly, smiled back then twisted away. Had she seen him staring? He couldn’t tell. He looked across slyly and saw her start swimming away using the frog technique.

He grinned and leaving her be, looked around at the other swimmers whilst he caught his breath back. The only other person in his lane was a very attractive young woman. Her blonde hair was tied back and she had on a sports swimming suit. Dan admired her, but had overheard that she was married.

In the fast lane to his left, two old timers were racing it out. Perhaps they had both been swimming champions and now, still addicted, they came every other morning to battle it out. The problem was, Dan always noted, that they looked like shrivelled up conkers in the water. With that image in mind, he couldn’t take them seriously.

In the slow line to his right alongside the massive woman, were a withered granny, a fat twenty-something man and a middle-aged woman. Dan watched them all swimming in the large oval shape that the pool signs demanded. He tried to switch his mind off again, but now it was too wake and couldn’t help but think dirty thoughts.

Shoving them away, he took a deep breath and got swimming again. As the water raged around him, he thought about the presentation he was giving at the boss’s meeting today. Had he made it interesting enough? It was bursting with facts that was for sure! He swam another few lengths then did a last slower one.

Ducking under the lane rope, he headed for the ladder when a shy female voice called to him.

Dan turned expecting to see the sporty woman or the middle-aged one, since the voice was clear not old. Instead, though the massive woman was standing behind him.

‘Yes?’ he asked politely.

‘I was just wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me sometime,’ she said softly.

Dan had to lean into catch half of the words as she seemed so quiet, ‘Well….Erm…’

‘Not today of course,’ she spluttered and looked at the water.

Dan saw her cheeks blushing. He shot a look at her heavy chest, ‘Sure. Why not.’

‘Thanks. See you soon,’ she rushed and went back to swimming.

Shaking his head, Dan got out of the pool and went to get dressed. Was he crazy? Maybe…

Peace

I stand on top of the hill and watch the world end. It fell apart bit by bit as the ground shook beneath my feet and the sky turned fire red. Buildings disintegrating around me, filling the air with a deafening noise and chocking out dust. I watch the closest structures splitting as if cut by a God’s sword and their guts spilling out. The people went down with it, though their screams and cries were nothing to that of the buildings. I feel ash touching my face as the wind sweeps over me. It was my fault. I started the end.

 Eighteen years earlier

 They put me in my mother’s arms still covered in birth blood and wailing. She smiled at me for the very first time and I missed it because my eyes were squeezing out fat tears. I was cold and wet, I didn’t care. Her voice hushed me as she rocked me in her arms. Her fingers touched me then a student nurse burst into the room yelling it had been declared. World peace was official.

Peace, my mother sighed, that’s what I shall name him. Peace.

She’s going! She’s going!

I was snatched from her, my crying unable to bring her back.

The end of the world

I never knew her. I didn’t have any memory fragments of her face or voice. When I looked at the photos, it was like seeing a stranger, only with my dark brown eyes, black tangled hair and dark skin. She looked happy, healthy. She didn’t know she was going to die. I clutch that one photo of her I have always cherished and watch the sky turn a deeper shade of red. Sirens of all kinds screech out alongside the still crumbling buildings. The ground quakes, pulling the earth apart into jagged lines which swallow anything they can get. The Hungry Earth.

 Fifteen years earlier

 I was laying in my crib half asleep listening to the thunderstorm rolling out above me. My face was turned to the window and I could see the flashes of yellow light. I cried, long and hard before falling into fitful screams. Arms picked me up and soft voices whispered to me. I was taken from my room and into theirs’, which was all ways a warm, safe nest that locked out the danger. I could still hear the storm. The loudness frightened me, I didn’t understand what it was. I kept crying, unable to draw any comfort from my foster parents.

  The end of the world

 That was it. My first actual memory. I had longed for it to be about my mother or anything else from the moment I had remembered it. I couldn’t write about my fear for my homework, so I wrote something else instead. My second earliest memory, in which I had been traveling somewhere in the car. I look further down the hill and wonder what everyone below me had been thinking on the cusp of their deaths. Some of them most have known they were going to die. Had they prayed? Cried out to their loving families? No one would ever know.

Thirteen years earlier

 My world consisted of a handful of places and people. I had yet to grasp the vastness of the space around me. I was enjoying exploring everything. I understood my name, but not what it truly meant. I got a younger sister, Grace in the spring of that year and felt jealous. She was ill all the time, dying, and my foster parents were doting towards her. She was their ‘miracle baby’ and I was just someone they had decided to save. Somehow, I always knew they had regretted it. They tried to un-adapt me, but felt too guilty.

The end of the world

 I sit down, feeling the heat of the explosions warping the air. Grace is dead now. Like our parents. They were the first I killed. The bomb ripped the house apart and I ran away. I wrap my arms around my legs and watch the city burning. It reminds me of Hell, though I’m there all ready. We all are. I thought there would be more to it, more colour, more apocalypse-ness. I imagined people going crazy in the streets and the world fighting against its annihilation. Yet, it accepts the fact as if it had always known this day would come.

Eight years earlier

 Doing that homework caused my foster parents to tell me the truth. In my bedroom, away from the half-blind eyes of my sister, they present a plastic blue box to me. Inside were the possessions my mother’s family had decided belonged to me when they surrendered to the authorities. There were the photos, a blanket, a teddy bear, some money and a bible.

She named you Peace because you were born just as world peace was declared. That makes you so special. You were the first baby to be born in that time. You’ll never experience war as long as you live.         

The end of the world

My foster mother hadn’t been wrong. In my short life all the world’s countries were at peace with each other. How it had come about was never known to me. They taught nothing about it in school, nor any other war, just that we had to love and care for each other. People were banned from talking about it. I didn’t care, I was just a kid. I still don’t really care now. The world is dying in redness and screams. Nearly all the buildings have collapsed and I can see people fleeing. Don’t they know there’s nowhere left to run to?

 Five years earlier

 I wanted to die and that was how it all began. My foster parents had brought me a computer a few years ago. It was an expensive Christmas present and something to babysit me whilst Grace took up all their time. I loved playing games and talking to people. However it didn’t drain my anger and I began researching things. I met someone online who taught me things only an expert should know. It excited me and I learned the ways of a hacker quickly, but it also set me on this path.

 The end of the world

I remember everything that happened that led to this moment. Only a fool would shove the past away. I raise my dropped head and look at the sky, it’s turning black with smoke now. Below me, everyone is aware of what’s happened. Somehow the news reports have gotten though. I can hear nothing from up here, the bombs and falling buildings have left me deaf. My ears are ringing, I feel the urge to reflect on my actions. Though I know I lost the power to stop this a while ago. The world cries for a hero, but I offer them the villain instead.

One year earlier

 It was too easy to hack in and set off the stored nuclear war weapons.

 The end of the world

The final bomb goes off just as planned. The world shakes under me and I know it’s all over. As the red, yellow and black clouds roll towards me, my last thought is will anyone will find this recording and know the truth?