3/10/09 – discarded


            Well hello! Sorry I’ve been away for so long; I went to California a couple of weeks ago and it threw off my whole groove, from writing to God. I’ve been trying to get back on track, and hopefully this week is the week. Plus, it’s only nine, and I extra time, especially since I’m not watching any movies or anything until Friday. And I’m reading Return of the King right now, and it’s flat out incredible. “Master Tolkien, you rightfully bear that name. So I’m more or less in the words mood. Let’s grease up the gears with a little writing exercise, and then get to it.

            So, the word: discarded.


            Long stood the sailor there, on that lonely shore in the west. The fog swirled about, with clinging cold in the wind, and the gull’s cry echoed in his empty mind. All was gray, dim under veiled sun, and with blank eyes did he look upon that weathered stair upon the eastern cliff. Still he could see the faint shadow of the lady as she passed into the wooded hills, and still the feel of the bundle’s rope pricked the skin of his fingers as if it yet rested in his grasp.

            But alas, it had passed away, and he, merely the bearer, stood discarded, forlorn and damp, nothing more than a rock outthrust from the shifting sands.

            Then wind changed, and he with it. The gulls felt it also, and renewed their sharp cries, as if to silence the thoughts within his mind. For he found himself, as the sea wind flowed against his back and blew toward that gray-green stair, hardening in resolve and desire, so that at any moment he would burst from the sand clasps at his feet and race to find the lady.

            And so he did. With quick, long strides he strode to the bottom rung of the stair, amidst the swirling gulls that sought to dissuade and turn him away, and with resolute step did he ascend and pass from sight into the depths of that swaying wood.


            Ha! Neat. I’m ending early (only 7 minutes) because my right arm is feeling funny. It doesn’t like typing on this keyboard, or something. But I don’t want to use up what strength I have writing the exercise. You see, I’m moving Shadows to the computer – though if the arm keeps this up that might change – in order to move more freely, and it would be a pity to run out steam before getting to that. Yes. Farewell. Good to see you again! I promise it won’t be another two weeks before the next entry. 


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