Prospects

Another Ten Minute Writing Prompt- 

I am hoping to do a post or more a month so here is May's. Since I liked my last one so well, I decided to use the same exercise and pulled three words or phrases from a 'hat'. These are my words I needed to use: 'roll of the dice', 'exploring the asteroid belt' and 'vocation'. Yes this took more than ten minutes and editing adds more though it is still rough so be kind!And here is my little story:

                Tammy sighed cynically as she surveyed the chaos in the high school gymnasium. A wave of noise, insistent and annoying, assaulted her senses as she stood by the double doors, leaning against the center metal frame, reluctant to enter further. She watched the crowd of students prowling around, the incoherent roar of a hundred simultaneous conversations echoing in the room as they jostled their way around each other to the various booths that were set up.. It was vocation day at her high school. A rather fancy name for a job fair, she thought. Not that even half the students knew what that word meant, she reflected as she maintained her brief role as observer.

                There was, she concluded, a decided lack of cotton candy at this fair and an overabundance of recruiters behind tables overflowing with banners and brochures, each selling bags of false hope to seniors suddenly face with a life outside of school. What could a person truly hope to gain from a short conversation likely consisting of the phrase, 'Yeah, it's really great! You'll love it.' or 'Absolutely, just taking our series of correspondence courses will absolutely prepare you for management levels, I promise.'

                Tammy shook her head, "I'd rather have the cotton candy. Empty calories and all." she murmured under her breath. "More honest."

                Eighteen years of structure, of being told what to do and how to do it then pow! You are on your own. Those of her peers chomping at the bit for freedom, for the promised life of no rules, no classes and no teachers were going to be disappointed, she suspected. Whatever was going to come next was going to be a roll of the dice. College for those with money or scholarships. And this for those who didn't. She sighed again, searching for a corner of the room to hide in or at least appeared occupied and interested before the school councilors caught her standing there.  She did not want another session with Mr. Gibson and another of his lectures on responsibility and decisions. Not that he truly cared what she decided, he only wanted closure to as many student files as he could before year's end.

                Taking a deep breath, she ventured forth in to the mass of students, avoiding eye contact. Slipping between the crowd of bodies around her, her skin crawling with anxiety, she navigated her way across the gym floor to a cleared space near the doors to the locker rooms. She looked at the doors speculatively, wondering if it would be worth hiding in there.  She heard a small clearing of a voice. Startled, she turned to see a slender man sitting despondently at a booth that was currently being ignore by everyone else in that room. Curiosity overcame her defeated boredom. His booth was fascinating in a 'I can't believe this is serious' kind of way. Behind him was a black banner with silver and gold lettering shimmering in the yellow lights. "Stars, Inc. - Exploring the Asteroid Belt with Humans since 1822"

                "Well?" asked the man with a measure of impatience.

                Tammy's focus turned away from the banner, confusion on her face. "I'm sorry? I didn't catch.." she started to reply sensing she was missing something important.

                "I said, are you interested in learning more about our fine company and a career in exploring the stars?" He gently pushed a pair of wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose and peered at her with growing interest.  

                "For real?" Tammy asked, her eyes wide. "Is this a joke?" She glanced around nervously, expecting to be laughed at or filmed as the prank continued.

                "A joke? Most certainly not." The man snorted indignantly, sitting tall on a stool with pride. He was a strange sight, dark rimmed glassed, hair slicked back carefully. His suit was brown and slightly too big. A blue bow tie completed the picture of sincerity. The table held a single brochure along with an application form.  "I represent Star, Inc., the finest space exploring company in the galaxy and our standards are extremely high. We don't take just anyone and we don't approach just anyone. We have certain, ahem, measures in place to ensure that, young lady."

                "Oh?" Tammy was confused both by the sincerity and the fact that this was rather elaborate if it was a prank. For the most part, she was ignored by the bullies, preferring to be invisible rather than a target. But if this was real, than she was certain that they didn't mean to be talking to her. "I think you may have the wrong, uh, candidate. I don't think I fit the high standards you are talking about. I'm pretty average, including my grades, so I'm guessing I don't qualify."

                "I assure you that we screen our possible employees quite carefully and you would not even see me if you weren't qualified, let alone hear me. Let's see what we have. One, a feeling of not fitting in. Two, desperate to escape, I mean wanting to travel. Three, curiosity. Four, a dreamer. And finally Five. You are willing to see the truth."

                "Yeah, I think you just describe almost every teenager in the country." She laughed. "Ok, I'll bite. Tell me more about Stars, Inc."

                "It is dangerous and exciting work, but most new recruits don't last the first day. It is not for the faint of heart. You will start small and work your way up the company. Everyone does. There are no exceptions or short cuts and it takes a certain type of person to work for us. It won't be easy." He warned.

                "Well, that isn't exactly encouraging though it is honest, I'll give you that. But to do what exactly?" Tammy asked intrigued despite her initial wariness.

                "Why, to map out the infinity of space, to explore the unexplored, to document the undocumented!" He exclaimed, his face glowing with enthusiasm.  "So, are you interested?"

                Tammy hesitated before answering, feeling draw in by his energy but uncertain that this was even a real job. Finally, she answered. "Yeah, sure." She had nothing better or more interesting to do, not as far as job prospects. The thought of drifting aimlessly for the next few years, scared her. She spent the next few minutes carefully filling out the simple application form and handed it back to the man, who gave her the brochure in exchange.

                "Now read that thoroughly when you get home and we'll be in touch, I'm sure." He added confidentially, "To be honest, the recruitment numbers among humans has been dismally low the last decade, so I am confident of your chances to be selected for day one are high. After that, well, it will be entirely up to you."

                "Uh, thanks." Tammy replied as she walked away. She glanced back. The man had already taken his banner down, rolling it up with slow precision. Even if this was pretend, she thought, it was nice to have something to hope for until reality hit. Hope, she decided, felt funny.

                She ran into Mr. Gibson as she was leaving the gym. His look was expectant. "Did you apply for anything per our agreement?"

                Tammy smiled slightly. "Yes." And she didn't even have to lie.

Inspiration

This writing short was an assignment where we were to listen to a song in a style we don't normally listen to by an artist we never heard before. I went down to the library and picked out some Jazz and this is the result. I am not completely happy with it as I was trying to capture a moment of tipsiness that is caused by innocent happiness. The song was 'Glass Dolphins' by John Klemmer and definitely worth a listen to!

                "Oh," Abby sighed. "What a lovely evening. Simply lovely." She twirled happily, relishing the swirl of her skirts spiraling around her. She laughed joyfully as she suddenly stopped and threw her arms out wide, eyes shining bright as the evening stars, a face full of hope and promise.  She was beautiful in the way of youth, not yet touched by the sorrows and the wisdom that time can bring.

                The young gentleman smiled as he watched her. Gallantly he offered his arm. "Shall we?"

                She smiled brightly back and accepted stumbling slightly as they strolled through the garden. She was unused to the champagne that she had drank earlier, feeling so grown up and worldly as she did so. The dancing had been sublime, the music inspiring and the young men exciting. Her brown eyes sparkled at her escort as they stopped before a fountain surrounded by violets and pansies carefully planted around the base. In the fullness of the sun, the colors promised to be rich and vibrant.  Yet tonight, with the moonlight shining down the deep blues and purples ruled the garden as the water flowed from the basin of the sweet Grecian maiden and poured into the pool below. She sat gingerly on nearby bench and gazed adoringly at Thomas. He was so handsome and so attentive, she sighed to herself, his eyes the warmest of browns.

                Thomas glance down at her, his eyes catching the stray ringlet of soft brown hair that had escaped during the energetic dancing from the artistically arranged pile of curls. He was fascinated how it looked so enticing along her neckline.  He swallowed nervously and looked down, trying not to think about the pinkness of her lips.

                "Oh I so do not want the evening to end." Abby said wistfully. "But mama will notice me missing soon and wish to head home."

                "We don't want her to worry." Thomas agreed as he once more offered his hand with the intention to return inside. With a small measure of regret she agreed as they left the garden and the brief moment of peaceful freedom for the bright lights of the party.

                "Thank you Thomas. It was a wonderful evening." She told him as she spotted her mother from across the room, cloaks and hats in hand.

                "Yes. It certainly has been a pleasure Miss Abby." He told her. "May I...may I call on you tomorrow?" He asked hopefully.

                Her smile was only answer he needed.

                

Another Writing Short

(This was a  10 minute short prompted by one of my walks through a local park. I rather like it and hope to expand upon the idea some day)

 She lived in a strange world of in-between pulled by both the seen and the unseen, lingering just out of eyesight in the world of dreams. It was clearly reflected as she walked done the gentle path, hoping to clear her mind. The cold wind blew in her face, the chill of a fading winter, while the inconsistent rain fell in hesitant drops. On her right was the man-planted gardens of bark dust and hardy bushes arranged and tended with the slight disorganization of a disinterested gardener. The bushes were allowed to grow freely instead of painstakingly shaped and trimmed but still clearly intentionally planted.  On her left was the untouched wild of true nature; twigs and fallen branches cluttering the ground from the recent storm, ferns and moss were green and abundant, trees of both evergreen and leafless frames grown as if planted by wind and fate. An element of survival echoed in the scenery on her left.

                On her right, the houses were a silent witness to private affairs both inside and out, while the sounds of birds calling and squirrels were busy and active in the ample undergrowth. It was not bitter cold of the previous month but the damp cold of spring to come. Buds of new leaves, flowers and berries were only observable to a very keen eye as the bulk of the forest were still skeletal in form. Moss hung heavy on the limbs, not unlike a green snowfall. As she continued to the long and winding bridge, crisscrossing over the running stream, her thoughts grew melancholy.  Must she choose, which world to live in? Could she not straddle the edge like this path and find a home in-between or would such a uncertain state of being eventually drive her mad? As if an answer to her thoughts, the harsh cries of distant blackbirds issuing their warnings caught her attention just as a blue jay swooped down before her suddenly. Startled she stared at the proudly defiant bird as sharp black eyes watched her walk past.

                Her eyes looked forward to where the path curled to the right, sloping slightly uphill. The birds just ahead were smaller and sang a sweeter song. She also knew, that if she chose to alter her vision, she would see more than just birds. She would see the mischievous inhabitants of the Seelie world. 

On Walking and Running

I love my morning walks. After the push of getting everyone out the door way too early for everyone's liking, making sure lunch is packed, homework is ready, breakfast is consumed, clothes are put on, kitties are fed and medicated, all culminating in catching the bus and waving them off to school. Then I take a deep breath, turn on my ipod and head for the park that is a short block away. It is my time to reset and recharge for the day. Sometimes I work my Nia routines, sometimes I daydream, sometimes I run countless lists through my head and sometimes I cry.

With Rebecca in early morning math this year, even with car-pooling, I find that I have been missing my morning walks more often than not. I have missed the rhythm of the seasons turning as last year I was walking through snow and rain until spring came. I have missed seeing the same walkers who are out early, usually walking their dogs, where we nod and smile, knowing that we are the few who venture out in the rain. Most everyone else will stay away.

Today, I finally was able to walk without the pressure of appointments cutting my time short and I noticed how spring was blooming quickly in the sweet green of new leaves and tiny soft colored flowers. Even the moss and streaks of mud upon the grass where the water has receded from the recent rains seem to call in the wet, fresh and ever unpredictable weather of spring.  And with spring, also comes the runners, joining the walkers and the dog walkers in our morning routine. 

I remember running. As a small child, it was so easy. I didn't think about it. I just ran. For fun, part of the chase, part of getting where I wanted to go and when I was tired, I would just stop and catch my breath. It was so easy. There was no thinking involved, no counting of calories, no goals in mind except to tag the other child and transfer the 'itness' that was part of the game. It was only later when running became a measurement of time and distance that I began to think about running. It was then, that I discovered, I didn't particularly like running even though it was still relatively easy. I liked the feeling of accomplishment afterwards but the act of running, the love of running for the sake of it has eluded me. The adrenaline rush was never as satisfying as a hike up the mountain or the peace that comes when I would empty my mind or the little details I would notice in the world around me, things I would miss by rushing past. Still, I never thought about running with the words 'I can't'.

Today, running seems so far away. Not just the idea of running for time and distance, for calorie counting and exercise, but the kind of running that takes you across an open field that seems to go on forever. The kind of running filled with joy and laughter, just because you can. The kind of heart racing that feels good instead of work. Still, I remember it with a kind of wistful sadness of something important that was lost and I'm not quite sure when it happened. Maybe it is time for me to rediscover my own way of running, or maybe it is not the running that I miss but the sense of play, pure joyful play. 

A Ten Minute Writing Short

So Rebecca has inspired me (or shamed depending on your point of view) to attempt to blog anew! Below is a ten minute writing prompt I did several months ago. I had to pull three words or phrases that I had cut out of magazines, articles and newspapers, incorporating them into a creative writing short. 

These are my phrases: 'Relatively', 'tremendous gifts' and 'Oh yes, he did'

                'Well,' he thought in desperation, 'this should be relatively easy,' trying to ignore the animalistic fear that was gnawing at him. He gazed out with broken eyes at the ocean, blue and fierce. His ship had fallen in the storm two weeks ago and he was lucky to find himself alive and aground. The island he was on could not be considered deserted for that would imply that life had been here before. Inhabitable. Inhospitable. A tiny rejected place of rocks, wind and sand. If not for the tremendous gifts of the ocean, that same mercurial beast that dropped him here, he would have perished days before. Stores of food in tins and wood, bits of wreckage and luggage, along with a few precious containers of water had washed ashore with him. But no other passengers or crew. He was alone.

                It had been a terrible and frightening battle of wind and waves that dark dreadful day. His eyes closed as the memories washed over him, the howling, the thunder and the cries of the crew while the Captain shouted his orders. 'No', he told himself firmly. 'I mustn't remember,' fighting to fall to his knees in despair. He had survived, he reminded himself, shaking off the memory. Oh yes, he did. And he would find a way to continue to survive. He clung to that thought tightly in his abandoned solitude.

                He never thought of himself as particularly brave or as a fighter in any shape. He was a simple man, thin and average in stature, an accountant on his way to the New World. A new life, full of promise, the flyers had boasted. Cautious and careful by nature, an inexplicable whim drove him to answer. This wasn't exactly what he had imagined. Instead of desks and numbers, he salvaged and scavenged enough around him to build a new ship, a patchwork raft with the remains of his hoarded supplies. He could not live on this island. Even if the island could have supported him, he knew the loneliness would drive him insane. He had made his decision.

                He would take a new journey, one that didn't make promises. One where the numbers, numbers that he has always thought of as a safe haven, were not in his favor. 'Easy,' he thought again as he forced his trembling hands to push his cobbled ship into the water and climbed aboard. "I wonder," he said aloud, "if the ocean will devour or save me?"