Daily post have kindly brought back Writing 101. As usual, I’m a day behind, None the less I will be tucking into the delicious feast of prompts on offer for the blogging U. Day one was a task in free writing. We had to let words fall on to paper for 20 minutes and post whatever came out. Dangerous concept, but a beautiful freeing writing practice. Here is what my mind had to say when I let it loose. It’s all bitter and I did a brief sweep, but it’s still all very raw.
Imagine an open field, you got it? Great, now imagine it early in the morning, real quiet like. There is a thin fog hovering over, not the menacing type, you know the one I mean, horror movie, Halloween type fog. It was just a real easy, laid back fog, the sun can cut through it real nice. It makes a cool little curtain against the round hills off in the distant.
Now picture waking up to this, not from a bed, just kind of waking up all of the sudden and looking out at everything, you see the fog, you feel the wet grass on your toes and you see the sun just working it’s way through the cool, laid back fog curtain. That’s kinda how I picture every great adventure starting. Right at the start of the day, with a fog slowly peeling away to show what’s ahead. It’s an awesome idea, and it kinda fits perfectly with the fairy tales.
Learning that sleeping damsels in great castles with fiery dragons might have edged towards an exaggeration, I still respected that. I grew to learn though, that it isn’t as glamorous when we take our own adventures and have to slay the dragons waiting for us there.
I killed a dragon once, it had these mammoth scales, great big things, the size of a full grown man, it teeth that were tainted red, I immediately assumed it was blood. It’s fire was blistering, it was thick, hot and, imaginary. My dragon was a mindset, “You will never be able to…”The mighty cry of the scaly nemesis. There was an adventure to embark on, but I never knew I would meet my dragon, right at the first step, as in looking out ahead to track a map to the first check point, and there it is, staring right at me. I was scared, but I saw people out there, past the dragons, so that means it could be done right? Not many people were out that far, but they were out there. Some people had slain the dragons, others whistled some songs they learned, carried trinkets, puffed up there chests and walked bravely past the dragons. Maybe the dragons didn’t see them when they looked brave, maybe that was the secret, or maybe the dragon saw them, pretended not to see, waited until they were too far to hide and got them then, I don’t know.
Dad kept an old sword on the table in his study, took me forever to sharpen that crippled piece of iron, my knees knocked and my voice creaked as I hoped to sing little songs to lift the fear from around my neck.
I took far too long to work on that sword, but I guess doing a small bit everyday until it was done, made me strong enough to carry it.
With the Blade sharpened to an amateur finish, I woke up to that open field, with the cool laid back fog in the air and the wet grass at my feet. I watched the dragon floating down, a mighty silhouette against the newly risen sun. I was breathing deeply feeling the hilt of the old sword in the palms of my hands, heavy and firm. I swinging it wildly and listenin to the jagged edges cutting awkwardly in the wind as I finally confront my dragon. The dragon drew in closer an closer until the steel of the jagged blade stopped suddenly. There was a moan and a grunt, a thick wetness surrounded the grass around me.
My dragon was dead, the little boy, with the old sword could finally see the cool laid back fog, drifting away. I had never thought of life past the dragon, everything was new again. Another little fear, a near unnoticed fear nibbled at me, whispered it’s poison
“it’s a long way off?”
“how will you eat?”
“home, how will you make it back home?”
Home is where the heart is, I will take my heart with me to the furthest end of that trail.