First off thank you to everyone who braved the weather to come write with me last night. I know in Canadian standards it wasn’t that bad out, but the season has just begun and we’re all still adjusting.
We had an eclectic gathering of moods and mind sets last night but it only managed to make the night more enjoyable. Feeding off the creative energy of someone who is in a completely different mind-set to your own is always an interesting endeavour. The four of us who were there last night definitely approached the writing prompts from very different angles. The prompt I will share with you today was A Slow Blink. First is my somewhat frivolous take on the line followed by Clare’s much more poignant interpretation.
Story by Genevieve
The sharp buzz on the bedside table had woken me. Sleep had been hard to come by and I was angry at the intrusive noise. I tucked my head under the blankets determined to forget that I had heard the buzz in the first place. I pretended it had been a dream and curled up tighter ready for sleep to wash over me again.
It was too hot under the blanket. I could feel the moisture of my breath filing up the pocket around me. I flung back the blanket, gasping for air that wasn’t wet. My eyes were open staring into the darkness. The curtains amply covered the window. Any device that emitted light had been turned off or covered for the night. The room was as black as pitch. It made no difference whether my eyes were open or closed. The blanket hugged me, enveloped me in warmth but brought no sleep. I cherished the quiet oppressiveness of the darkness.
Then I saw it.
On the bedside table, where my cell phone lay, where the unforgivable buzz had come from. A white light, a slow blink. I stared at it angry and entranced. I knew from the buzz that there was a message, did it really have to blink as well? I should have turned it over before getting in bed. I should turn it over now, but the act of reaching out and flipping it so I wouldn’t have to see the offensive light would break the tenuous grasp I had on sleep.
But the blink. I couldn’t look away, like a moth to flame. I swore, reached out into the cool air of my bedroom and grabbed the phone. I wasn’t going to get back to sleep anyway…
Story by Clare
It’s a terrible disease, it creeps up on you without any warning, one moment your life is great, ok, well good, well at least ok even on a bad day you can go about your business, do your thing, the multitude of things you take for granted every day, all the actions by which people recognize you. You shake hands, high five, down low, too slow. Ha ha ha, you laugh, you smile and your voice reaches out in its usual way, call a friend, whisper a secret then shout out loud….. but then a moment comes and something changes, at first you hardly notice the slowness of a limb it’s becoming heavy and it won’t do as you tell it, you stumble and trip but still don’t know why, you begin to ask yourself questions. You think you can will the lazy parts back into action but they just get slower and weaker, now you begin to perceive the loss, fear sets in and the untouched mind begins to race.
Questions? Doctors, don’t knows and what ifs set in. Your body becomes increasingly disobedient and it spreads, the disobedience, your speech starts to slur as words begin to fail, you catch yourself with drool that just won’t go down, to swallow even a morsel without choking is an epic effort.
Now you know what is coming, your mind that is bright and capable of all manner of magical thinking is as nimble as ever but now A.L.S. has you firmly in it’s grasp and soon all you will have left is …
A slow blink
once for yes and
eyes shut for NO