This didn't go according to plan (prompt #2)

• Today's prompt: I tried to sneak out using my window and now I’m hanging from it can you help me?

″Um, excuse me?″

Ben pulled out an earbud from his left ear and looked around. He was walking down an ordinary-looking, reasonably well-lit suburban street but it was past midnight and one can never be too careful. At least that’s what his mother keeps saying every time he leaves the house.

“Excuse me? Over here!”, came the voice again, somewhere from the darkness of the front porch of the house on his right. Ben pulled out the right earbud and shoved the earphones in his back pocket. As he was rolling the earphones and pushing them into his jeans, making them exquisitely knotted in the process, he analysed the situation: 1) it is the middle of the night; 2) there is a voice coming from the darkness, a voice he doesn’t recognise, 3) given the set-up it is likely that the voice belongs to a burglar, a robber or another sort of a criminal element; 4) but they said “excuse me”. Twice. Ben found it unlikely that a burglar would have the time for pleasantries; 5) still; they could be a murderer trying to lure him in under the false safety of politeness...

His thought process was cut short with another, this time distinctly angry, whisper and Ben realized it was a girl's voice, “hey, I'm kind of in a not-so-great situation here and I could really use some help.” Concluding that the owner of the voice probably isn’t a murderer, Ben slowly approached the house and looked around in the dark blue night. There was no one there.

“Up here,” came the voice again just as Ben began to doubt his sanity.

Looking up, he realized that there was a pair of legs wearing beat faded pink Converse, dangling from the first floor window. Using his phone as a flashlight, he gazed up from the pink Converse and recognized a girl who worked in the local cinema.

“Hi, I’m stuck and I need your help“, she said conversationally. 

So day 2. I realize this isn't that good and nothing really happens but I have an exam tomorrow and need to be doing that, okay? Maybe I'll continue this tomorrow, who knows. 

The sun and I (prompt #1)

If anyone's still here, hello, it's been a while!

One of my new year resolutions is to work on my writing, so I'm going to do this: pick a prompt every day and just write something. I'm not going to give myself any particular wordcount because this is enough of a challenge already, okay? We'll see what happens.

Without further ado, today's exercise is:

• Write about the sun as though you love it. Then write about it as though you hate it.

1. Spring equinox is marked on my calendar in capital letters. I used my best fountain pen. When it comes I let my hair ripple down my back and I wear yellow. I am courting your approval. I haven't seen much of you over the past few months and when I have it wasn't really you. Not all of you anyway. But now you are coming back as you always do.

The alarm clock goes off at seven in the morning and finds me sitting already dressed at the edge of my bed. I've missed you too much and today you are coming back.

I step out into the semi darkness of early morning and head to the highest hilltop. When I get there you haven't arrived yet but you are close. I see you first, (so beautiful) then I feel your touch (so kind). I realise I'm smiling again after so many months. Your gentle caress is slowly melting the frozen lake of my soul. The light you provide shines bright at the wasteland behind my ribs but you don't flinch. I get on my tiptoes, stretch higher, my arm, further, my fingertips.

I understand why Icarus happily exchanged his life for a chance to touch you. I would too.



2. Your glow is too strong, you burn too bright and I cannot bear it.

The scorching heat you hurl at me is evaporating my soulsap, stripping away my humanity and my clothes. Nothing matters just your greedy fingers piercing through my skin, not stopping until they trap bone marrow.
There is nothing left to see or feel, just your overbearing blinding presence.
You burn burn burn my skin without mercy till there is a frayed black hollow where my heart used to live.

People (even poets!) say you make living softer, easier, prettier.
The truth is you quicken the process of rotting.