MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “writing prompt”

Seven of a kind

https://study.com/cimages/multimages/16/duck3.jpgThere were four of them. And in the next months, they became seven. Four yellow and three black. All they had was each other.

They followed each other blindly. Trust was no issue. It never was. That was what family was about. Trusting the other blindly. Unconditionally. Without question.

Sometimes they would split into small groups. Two-three there and another couple a little further away.

They would always find something to do.

And they would always come back together.

United.

Looking out for each other.

They were a family.

Seven ducklings.

Fluffy, cute and lively.

IF only we were all like them.

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Escape boots

dadsshoesWhenever I wanted to get away…to escape from it all…from the mundane routine that was choking me, or bringing me down, I would put on these boots and go”. His voice was sore, as though it was suppressing all the pain he felt and from which he desired to flee from. The boots were a gift from a German friend. One with whom he would often go wandering in the mountains. It was the only way he could find some peace, some spiritual relaxation.

But now… If I could only remember where I left them”, he uttered almost in despair.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Life in full speed

https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSCwsxz9lk0sa_BySWGKBRObwy312pHFAJb1D3pqfgJb4v9EkOBShe felt her hand slowly slip from his grip. It was that feeling you get when you see in your sleep that you’re falling and you jitter, often kicking the person sleeping next to you.

But this time it all happened so rapidly.

She fell into a thick mattress of bushes, treetops whose brunches scathed her bare skin. The scratches began to bleed and all of a sudden, she was running barefoot in a jungle, too scared to look back at what was chasing her with full speed.

She tried to scream, but there was no voice to come out of her. Her lungs hurt. She could feel the pain in her chest mounting. And it was so hot. So unbearably hot.

She was now walking, her muscles sore from the running.

She was panting. She didn’t know where she was going or why all this was happening, but her adrenaline levels were still high.

Back in reality, she was lying in a hospital bed, with two doctors over her head trying to get her to wake up from the coma she had fallen into after the car accident. Her husband was the one driving and the one who – free of heavy injuries – had tried to grab her hand to pull her out of the flaming vehicle.

Also part of Daily Prompt: Rapid

The dried-up creek

k-rawson

©Karen Rawson

It was an autumn morning without a cloud in the sky. It had been days since they had raised their gaze to so much blue. Today they were celebrating. It didn’t really matter what; there is always something to rejoice each day. So they decided to do something different. Life is only worth it if you take risks and believe you can succeed.

After what seemed like endless turns, they reached a forgotten stairwell that led to the remnants of a creek. It was muddy and dull.

This used to be a park. It was where I first saw you”.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Altering an unreal vision

http://www.weatherbook.com/images/6_14_04_web.jpgIt was one of those mornings when it was neither hot nor cold; it was just cloudy and dull. Like her mood that day. The humid heat made it all somewhat insufferable, even stifling.

Zoe woke up nervous. It was the type of agitation that appeared after not being able to sleep well all night, with too many thoughts swivelling through her mind and a temper she couldn’t really explain.

She had dreamt that her big dance performance had arrived, the one that would make or break her career; the one that would get her into the professional dance school she had her heart set on since she was a child. But just as she was about to make that finally leap, sure to astonish everyone, her ankle turned and she had to conclude the show with grinding teeth and a pain that left her in stitches. It was almost impossible not to reveal how much it hurt.

Zoe woke in the middle of the night in sweat and an inexplicable pain in her stomach. It all felt so real. The passion, the agony, the anguish, the sting, the heartbreak, the utter discomfort of it all.

She took hold of her years-old teddy bear and, with the naivety of a child, tried to go back to sleep. But it was no longer possible.

Dawn came but the emotions had remained. How do you alter a nightmare?

She spent all day watching movies on her couch. It was an effort to change her mood. But that didn’t work either. It only happened when he came along. When Ted rang the doorbell and greeted her with a smile, a rose, a cookie and – what she needed most – a warm, tight hug.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Astonish

Mountain views

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©Jan Wayne Fields

He loved breath-taking views. He could get lost in them for hours. Just sitting there relaxed, letting his mind wander over the horizon. It was always as if he was flying. This must be sort of what it feels like.

And in such a “flight”, he met her. A person who would suffer if she sat still for too long. But at that very moment she needed the tranquillity. That sense of escape from everything and everyone. And at that mountain top she found it.

Together with the person who would lift her up as high as he possibly could.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Be authentic; be real

https://thecreatorwritings.files.wordpress.com/2016/02/authenticity-hoax.jpg?w=473We hear it often and almost everywhere: be yourself; be authentic. But in a world where almost everything and everyone is a copy, how easy is it really to be an original?

Authenticity is a trait or a characteristic described by the recognition and acknowledgement of who you are and being brave enough to live it. It is being real, showing true emotion and not indulging in hypocrisy.

You don’t need to copy others. The mentality of the masses doesn’t always work. That is why masses are often likened to sheep – presumably dumb animals who follow each other even acting irrationally. Stand out from the crowd. It is a prompt that calls on people to embrace their differences. It is the only way to bring about change. By daring to be unique. Regardless of whether this will lead to others copying you. The original will always distinctively vary from a fake.

“In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different” – Coco Chanel

“It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation” – Herman Melville

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Authentic

A song of fireworks

https://www.google.gr/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwizvPi4ubzaAhVMaxQKHdjwBo4QjRx6BAgAEAU&url=https%3A%2F%2Fpatch.com%2Fflorida%2Fbradenton%2Fbradenton-4th-july-fireworks-what-you-need-know&psig=AOvVaw3ixqnT-W0OrX-FZC8nmnm2&ust=1523887461934014He was waiting for the fireworks. For a week now, it was all he could think about. She was excited too, but she had many other things on her mind that were consuming her attention. She relished the fact that he was so thrilled. Sometimes all it takes is someone else’s smile to make you smile even wider.

That night there was a fair, accompanied with the grandiose of a market, stalls, candy, street food, a Ferris wheel, lights, dance, songs and, of course, at the end of the night, fireworks. That splendid display of low explosive pyrotechnic devices that always make people stare at the sky with awe and amazement.

Tonight he had something special planned though.

As soon as the fireworks ended, he had arranged with the local DJ for her favourite song to play. As soon as she heard it, she turned at once towards his direction, her eyes now wide and bright, glistening in the night. He stretched his hand to clasp hers and drew her into an opening. And there he led her into her favourite dance. She was amazed. He had learned all the moves she enjoyed and managed to surprise her in a way she never expected.

For her, the fireworks came later. And that was all that mattered.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Song

What starts the waterworks

https://www.google.gr/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiQgt7ly7XaAhUGMewKHd9oCq4QjRx6BAgAEAU&url=http%3A%2F%2Fdowhatlightsyouup.com%2Fgo-ahead-and-cry%2F&psig=AOvVaw1xo_TxfeVgsIFS-Yukag8-&ust=1523651732943075It is a small drop that forms at the corner of your eyelid. One that soon blurs your vision and causes your eyes to well up, releasing droplets to slide down your cheek. Then another comes and you are suddenly found in a state of distress, be it emotional or reflexive. But what is it that causes these waterworks to start? And why is it that some of us cry so much more often and easier than others?

There are reportedly three kinds of tears. According to this very interesting article our body produces basal, reflex and psychic tears. “Your basal tears are what I like to call the ‘worker tears’ and they keep your cornea (the transparent front of your eye) nourished and lubricated so your eyes don’t dry out. Then there are your reflex tears which that help you to wash out any irritations to your eyes from foreign particles or vapours (onion, being the classic example)”. Finally, there are the most popular type of tears: the “psychic, or ‘crying’ tears. These are the tears produced in response to that strong emotion you may experience from stress, pleasure, anger, sadness and suffering to indeed, physical pain. Psychic tears even contain a natural painkiller, called leucine enkephalin – perhaps, part of the reason why you might feel better after a good cry!”

When we cry, we don’t just become dehydrated and – literally – drained. There are more things that happen at the same time: your heart rate increases, you sweat, your breathing slows and you may even get a lump in your throat – known as the globus sensation. This is all believed to occur as a result of your sympathetic nervous system (your ‘fight or flight’ system) activating in response to your emotional situation. This is also why we are left so tired after a good cry. Yet we somehow feel relieved.

According to this enlightening article, “many psychologists believe that in addition to giving us an outlet for a rapid build-up of a powerful emotions, crying is a social signal to others that we’re in distress”. It is also considered an outlet for shedding stress. In fact, it is believed that emotional tears contain more protein particularly linked to higher stress levels, which is thought to make them thicker and more noticeable as they streak down the cheeks. It is a call for support and empathy and a way of releasing stress-related chemicals from the body.

We cry mostly when we’re sad. In this way, it acts as a signal to others that we are in distress and it is a call to induce sympathy and attention. This may explain why the waterworks appear more often in children and women.  According to a 1980s PhD study by biochemist William H. Frey, on average, women cry 5.3 times a month, while men cry 1.3 times in that same time period.  There may be a biological reason behind this, as the hormone prolactin – found at higher levels in women – is thought to promote crying.

We cry when we feel that we are overwhelmed with emotions that are too difficult to handle. And suddenly thoughts invade our head that make us feel even worse, such as that things aren’t going our way, that we don’t have time to be or do the things we want, or that others are better off than we are. A whirlwind of reflections and feelings ensues entrapping us into a vicious circle that simply accentuates the waterworks.

But we also cry when we’re happy. It is a way of demonstrating how we feel – that we are so overjoyed, we sometimes can’t believe it. That powerful string of – positive, this time – emotions is what causes the tears to run. It is a good thing. But this too causes us to feel exhausted after a while.

It is believed that crying depends on a person’s level of sensitivity. We don’t all think the same way, nor do we feel the same. People react to different circumstances differently. That is what makes them unique. They should not be judged for it, but rather appreciated for their own way of responding to whatever life throws at them. Crying is not a sign of weakness after all; it is merely a sign of emotions and the fact that a person’s heart is beating faster at times.

Never a time waste

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©Dale Rogerson

The speech had just ended and Sarah thought it was the most boring two hours of her life. Jonas had the same view. “What a time waste!” he was heard saying in the reception area, glass of wine in hand. Sarah’s eyes met his glance and he approached her. “Politicians never have something new to say, don’t you think?” he suggested as he handed her a topped-up wine glass.

She smiled, blushing at his communicative spirit, the ease with which he started a conversation with someone unknown.

Yes,” she finally agreed. “But perhaps the evening will now be more interesting”.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

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