22 February 2011

For Lack Of Anything Better...

As of late, I have been uninspired in more ways than one. My new job as a long-term sub starts next week - I've been bidding adieu to my extra leisure time. No better time for a change of pace...

I don't believe I've shared a ton of writing here before, but as it's a 'Random Thoughts' blog, I do believe I can, should, and will.

I attended my library's weekly writing group tonight, and we always start the session with a brief writing exercise in which we write a piece based on three slips of paper freshly chosen from a index card box. The slips contain words or phrases that must be worked into the piece...here was mine tonight...

***By the way, don't copy this without my permission or steal and try to pass it off as your own, because then I'll have to hunt you down and beat you with your own ripped off limbs.***

The small sleepy seaside village of Hampton was inhabited by good, hardworking, salt-of-the-earth folk. Most of the villagers rose with the sun, fed the chickens, milked the cows, swept the front stoop, stoked the fires, and generally prepared their households for the day ahead. The glint of the ships in the bay would bring the traffic of goods and trade business to Hampton, and the small burg would soon bustle happily with merchant activity and more.

Like clockwork, except more reliable, the entire village would close down at the noon hour, so that men toting pitchforks, bags of potatoes or gold could return home for a hearty luncheon with their families. Children were dismissed promptly at the school bell and they sprinted home, books or boxing gloves in hand, to the smell of bread baking or stew simmering on the hearth.

So it was like this every day. Dinnertime followed the same pattern: shops and vendors, public buildings and businesses would halt operations at five o'clock, and all townspeople, regardless of where they were or what they were engaged in, would wind their way home to their dinners.

As the sun burned a dull orange in the western sky, a few oil lamps would flicker in windows here and there, but not for long, because Hampton's residents were quite familiar with the old adage "a long day follows a short night". Thus, at the onset of complete night-darkness, every man, woman, and child in the village carried themselves to their beds.

To outsiders, this routine may have seemed monotonous, mundane...so inexcusably boring as to not ever be endured...to live every day like the one before and the one after.

But to the villagers, the days brought a life of comfort, of familiarity and they cherished it, in fact, they fiercely protected it. Because they knew that day would eventually come when their quiet, happy, contented lives would catapult into a violent, unexplainable chaos.

The solar eclipse would be occurring soon. A day and night of madness would then be upon them.

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