The Moment of Truth

Angela hated his hobby. She kept saying it was silly and dangerous. Well, it wasn’t. Not if you knew what you were doing and didn’t lose your nerve. He jumped and the air whistled around him. The adrenalin kicked in and he was free.

Gone. It was all gone. The nagging girl-friend, the growing patch of baldness on his crown, the money he’d “borrowed” from the client accounts to pay for his expensive tastes, his lonely childhood, his miserable youth.

And then there was that delicious moment of choice. If he didn’t deploy now, they need never come back again.

Bertie loves watching the sky-divers.

The story-challenge. This week’s prompt was: Relaxation.

And do you know the song Skydiving by Jonay?

Stardust

When you’ve been scavenging meteorites together for a while, they say, you can read each other’s thoughts.

Losing our radar had made us blind and lame. Now, losing the radio circuits made us deaf and dumb. Searching for us would be like tracking down a single piece of dust in the Sahara.

Jack was confident. “Tania will find us. She’s a genius at tracing the omega stabiliser ionisation. I know you think it’s too risky. Lucky I turned it on anyway.”  “I know you did,” I choked. My voice was gone. He went pale.

But I turned it off again.

Going nowhere fast!

The 100 word challenge at Julia’s place. The prompt this week was: …but I turned it off…

Fess up, everyone: who else loved reading Asimov as a teenager?

Full Moon

From up here it really did look like a horse. And when the clouds shifted, it seemed to be moving. You could think you heard a whinny and the stamp of a hoof.

It had dominated the discussions since it appeared. Old Graybor maintained that the shape of a thing determines its nature. The young realists thought it was more important what a thing does. This thing didn’t move, and it smelled of tree. Boldly Balin had cocked his leg and made it his own. Now he was leader of the pack.

Showtime. He lifted his head in a howl.

The 100 word challenge at Julia’s place. My favorites to date:
Always look a gift horse…  (Ventahl). Earth magic (Lisawieldswords). Horse n°36 (sjbwriting).

This week’s prompt below: a driftwood sculpture by Heather Jansch. Don’t miss the beautiful photos.

Photo by Julia.

The eden project also boasts the biggest rainforest in captivity: I hope they treat it kindly.

Clean Slate

Sometime this summer my life got a little intense and I needed to get away for a bit. I went to stay in an old cottage by the sea and started taking long walks every day.

When you put your life on hold for a while, it gives you a  suspended sort of feeling, as if time had stopped and left only you free to explore the moment. I started noticing things I’ve never seen before. Do you have any idea how many different shades of green there are? And have you ever listened to the birds chirping away throughout the day?

In a sunny bay I noticed scratch marks in the sand. They were different each day, some days shallow, some days deep, but always in the same area below the high tide mark. One morning I saw someone scratching in the sand with a stick. By the time I arrived they were gone, but the tide was still out, and I could see a picture in the sand: a colony of gulls standing, flying, landing, their wings still outstretched. I loved it.

I decided to go to the beach early the next day, to try and catch the sand-painter. When I arrived the next morning, the sand was fresh and smooth. I started walking to and fro on the beach. My patience, or lack of it, was rewarded, when I saw the sand-painter scratching away again.

Walking towards the sand-painter, I wondered how to start a conversation without seeming too rude. When I was fairly close she looked up and said “Hello, there”, and I was surprised at the friendly greeting. Afterwards I realised, my footprints told the story of my lying-in-wait only too clearly.

I looked at the new picture, a peacock in a garden. Each feather so clearly defined, you could all but see the colours. “It’s beautiful”, I gasped. She smiled, and looked pleased. “How kind”, she said. “You make a sand-painting every day?”  “Most days.” “But it’s washed away by the tide.” “So it is”, she agreed. “Do you take photos then?” She laughed. “I never even thought of that.”

“But it’s a shame, all these beautiful pictures lost”, I burst out. She looked away quickly, but I caught the tears in her eyes. She was still for a minute. I started to apologise, and she silenced me with a small wave of her hand. “No, you’re right. It doesn’t last.”

“Nothing lasts”, she added quietly, and looked down again. I was sorry for intruding on her solitude. “So long”, I mumbled and started to walk away.

I hadn’t gone far when she called after me. “This way, there are no errors. There’s only the way it is.”

Happiness is…

The challenge: Art.