Today’s prompt: Sweet and Sour.

Prompt: From 3a.m. Epiphany, number 110

Sweet and sour. Describe briefly a lake or backcountry mountain trail (in other words, a beautiful natural setting) as seen by a person who has lost a parent in a sudden, unexpected death.  The last time this narrator saw the parent they argued violently.  In your narrative do not mention the death, the parent, or the argument.  Do not tell a story.  Simply show us what the lake or forest or street looks like to someone under these circumstances.  500 words.

Once I went around the corner, I could hear the water flowing.  Water running over rocks, a rush.  The path was narrow, made for two.  On one side of the path, through the trees, I could see the pond, stagnant and still, lily pads drifting along its surface, the green scum in obvious places along it.  But there were holes, spots where I could see the green-black water that looked almost like a sheen of onyx.

To the right was where the water rushed.  The path had been created more or less to cover a ceramic pipe that lead into a ditch.  Here was water over rocks.  Here it sounded like a waterfall.  Amazing that this sheet of glass on the left, could turn into this flow of water on the right.  It was still blackish green.  I watched that water, since it was more interesting to my eyes – action, force, flow.  Not flat, stagnant, plain and ordinary.

I walked further, past the pond and ditch, under a canopy of trees.  It was a dim tunnel, but the path was clear and easy to see.  I came out of it to a bright meadow, grass as high as my shoulder.  The green waves – not of grain, but of tall crabgrass – waved in the small but warm breeze.  I walked through this meadow, the soldiers of grass daring me to not stray from the rocky path, trodden by hundreds of other feet along this trail.  I could see places where the grass was dampened down, places that I imagined deer lay at night, their families close together, children huddled close.

I sighed, continued on, heading toward another tunnel of trees, which lead deeper into the darker part of the forest, a cool, lonely place I preferred to be right now.

Words: 300
Supposedly, according to his explanation further in the book, schizophrenics can’t narrate something in a general sense.  They see the trees, not the forest.  This was to attempt to think like a schizophrenic.

This entry was posted in Daily Writing Prompts. Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.