Daily Doodles

[inthemindofthepen]

Counterfactual, 1

If only I'd woken up earlier and made my train I wouldn't be standing out here on the platform in the pouring rain If I'd made that train, I could've been on time for once, But now I've got my boss breathing down my neck as I work through lunch. If only I'd been able to take my lunch break, I could've run to the store to buy those steaks I promised her I'd buy today - for sure today, But I failed and because of how late I stay The store's always closed by the time I leave. So instead its the corner store for potato waffles and frozen peas. If only I'd got those steaks for dinner, We could've avoided that fight about how I'm a bad listener, How I never pay attention and never make an effort, We could've avoided you pouring dessert down my shirt. If only we hadn't fought tonight, If only you hadn't left after the fight, If we had had steak and made love instead, Perhaps I wouldn't be standing out here on the window ledge. All my counterfactuals written on the walls in capitals Perhaps it's time to make all of them actuals, I wouldn't be tiptoeing closer to the edge, If I had been earlier to get out of bed.

[inthemindofthepen]

Inheritance, 2

It took just five months to wipe out a generation of our family tree. A gangrenous foot that quickly deteriorated despite the best medical advice for one; for the other, a depression in the spirit that could only come from losing your life partner of 70 years, manifesting itself in migraines that escalated in exhaustion, too weak to get out of bed or use the toilet. You were both buried next to each other, reunited in death.

I mourned the times I chose not to call, the conservatism I didn't understand, but most of all, the oral history I failed to inherit. I've caught snippets here and there of your migration across the Indian Ocean by ship settling in Pemba, then Zanzibar, then moving to the mainland. I managed to piece together the stories of the manual labour you had to undergo to simply survive, of creating something from nothing, of starting over post socialism when all your years of toil were reduced to nothing overnight. These stories always came to me second hand, translations from my parent's generation because we spoke in different tongues and the language that we did share was insufficient as none of us could fully express ourselves in it. There are so many stories I missed because I didn't speak your language, and although I have inherited your nature, there is so much of my own history that will never become part of my consciousness.

I should have tried harder. This inheritance is not just mine alone, but affects my next of kin. And with each generation, the history fades further, the stories become less precise and your legacy is reduced to the blood that courses through my veins. I'm not sure how long it'll take to erase you both completely.

[inthemindofthepen]

Inheritance, 1

My son, I know you're not here yet and I'm not gone either, But there're some things you'll need to know well before I leave here. I won't pretend it's better here, not always anyway, Every day, There will be injustice, pain and cold, But know that when you arrive there's something that you don't hold. The ability to love has always been innate, Unfortunately what we give our young is the ability to hate. We hold our identities so closely that they smother us, And we hold our own differences so dear that we often betray another's trust. Your mother and I are deeply in love but that wasn't always the case. My parents taught me how to love, be open-minded, humility and grace, But one day they smashed those same ideals like fragile ceramic plates. They told me that our own people came first and our community was the priority, Their prohibition on inter-faith marriage made me question their authority. A girl from a broken home was bad too though they couldn't say why morally. Their explanations made no sense and stumbled so illogically. We are divided by ideology and idiocy, Told one thing then shown another immediately. We bequeath to you a world asunder and the seeds to sow it together. Remember what you didn't have before embarking on each endeavour. You did not have hate, did not have prejudice, Did not disbelieve or send deceitful messages. Your inheritance is a responsibility. To love and trust unconditionally, Give equally, treat each person decently. I turned on the news recently, My son, there are things you need to see To truly understand the value of your inheritance. It's up to you to force us to inherit sense. I know it is not much my son but there is value in this gift. With it you can rescue this humanity so adrift From the shores of compassion. Only the souls of the unborn are humankind's last bastion Of hope. Be good my son and reward good people. When you arrive, there'll be no such thing as evil. Hold onto that, please. Don't give into the madness we've all adopted gladly and reluctantly. Please be the man we should all have been. I suppose your inheritance is part gift and part curse. But before you heard anything else it's vital you heard this first. I can't wait to see you, hear the first words you utter. I love you already, Papa

[inthemindofthepen]

PARTNERS FOR PHANTOM

Hey all, Sorry for the delay in posting: three entries so please all just comment on each other's!

[inthemindofthepen]

Phantom, 3

You are a limb that doesn't stop hurting But when I reach out to caress you There is nothing there An empty space that haunts Because of its nothingness Because of what could be there instead. The sensation follows me It leaves me curled up in a ball Craving for more Not willing to fully let go At least in this in between I can revel in possibilities And cling to history I am too scared of what I'll become If I cleave you from my memory. So I let you remain And I try to recreate The tangibility of you And I am always disappointed Because you are no longer here A phantom I have fed With longing and unrealistic dreams.

[inthemindofthepen]

Phantom, 2

You look right through me, You look right through me everyday. I make your tea and take your calls and you look right through me anyway. I change my hair, I change my hair and my perfume. I change your sheets and press your shirts but to my attention you are immune. You remember, You remember, you're never late. They think you're thoughtful and so punctual but I remind you of every date. I wish you'd see me, I wish you'd see me or just take note. Please just tell me that I matter, that I exist Not just a ghost. You never noticed You never noticed this longing phantom. I never lived you stole my heart and held it ransom.

[inthemindofthepen]

Phantom, 1

I think they're saying I've changed. I don't know because I haven't spoken to them in a while... but I think that's what they're saying. They're not wrong... if they are talking about me at all. Do you remember me? I love to swim. The feeling of being weightless, being held, emulsified in the quiet blue. Breathing out slowly so my breath shakily declares itself in a jellied bubble that floats gracefully up, up, up. Lying horizontally mid-water, staring at the liquidy world that bends lazily above. It feels free. I haven't been swimming in a while... Speaking publicly. I liked that a lot. Speaking clearly. Being heard. Acknowledged. That tightness in my chest just before the reverberations of my voice soothe the tension and give way to empowerment. I haven't done any public speaking in a while... Do you remember me? I'm not unhappy... just not myself. Don't do that. Don't shake me or tell me to snap out of it. You can't. Well, you can but you're not allowed to... but you do. I found my college yearbook yesterday. Cover still gleaming with its glossy finish. The pages still smell like book... do you remember those? I press my nose to the pages and inahle deeply. Nostalgia floods my senses and I see myself, as if through the lens of a camcorder in a home movie. I turn each full, full page with my empty, empty fingers. I'm everywhere in here. I did a lot I suppose. Then there is you... then there is us. Did you know? Back then? I didn't... if you knew you should have told me. When did it happen? I just can't remember. I slam the book shut, the home movie cuts short. When did we stop being the souls in this book... and just become ghosts.

[inthemindofthepen]

PARTNERS FOR I WOULD NAME MY PLANET

So obviously since there are only two pieces, you’re both partners for this week!

[inthemindofthepen]

I Would Name My Planet, 2

If I were a planet I would be Pluto

The one that refuses to fit into neat boxes

Who straddles galaxies

Challenges interstellar spaces

Whose existence is a rebellious act

That redefines the Milky Way.

You discovered me and then

Left me unexplored

Too far to get near

Too difficult to penetrate

So you sent me away to another galaxy.

And I sent your cosmos spinning away

Into chaos

Try to contain me, try to define me

Try to impose your identities on me

I will waterboard you in ice

And leave you in the fridge to thaw.

[inthemindofthepen]

I Would Name My Planet, 1

Blaster fire tore through bodies on each side of me. The Reev had began their systematic onslaught six hours ago and they had continued unrelentingly through the night. Gargantuan Stalkers lurched forward, tearing human flesh like paper. Soldiers wrenched from the ground fired blasters randomly as their limbs were ripped from their bodies. The spiny Silac shreaked as they teetered on impossibly spindly legs. The cries made every hair on my body stand on end. Despite the sweat dripping from the bridge of my nose I shivered. The Silac were the worst of the Reev. They seemed malicious in a way the others did not. Their iron-hard, needle-like legs stabbed again and again and again until bodies lay in a bloodied pulpy mess. They danced across the battlefield with the grace of sadistic ballerinas in razored stilettos. I raised my rifle to my chin and fired a piercing shot through the body of a Silac that stood screaming triumphantly in a mix of blood and mud that had once been one of my people. One of my brothers. "Baaron! His Highness has made his way to the port! We are almost there!" Zol threw rifle charger packs across the field to me, which I mechanically clicked into the smoking gun. Until yesterday we had resigned to the fact that we would die here. The last humans. The Reev had arrived in our skies two years ago. From nowhere the first fleet scarred the skyline; like a paintball shot at a white sheet - one minute they weren't there, the next they had exploded on our horizon. And then they had poured in until they blotted out the sun. The event was now apperopriately called The Eclipse and marked the beginning of our end. Everyday we lost contact with cities. Everyday the radius to "live" cities shrunk, spelling our impending, encroaching doom. Trembling refugees arrived at the gates. Their eyes stared vacantly out of their sockets, unable to see the hands pulling them urgently inside. Their lips twitched as they mumbled incomprehensibly about the things they had seen. That had broken some of them, others broke because of the things they had done to get here. Eventually, inevitability, the Reev came to Kassah. We knew they were close when communications with a nearby hamlet winked out. The cold, empty static that remained whispered menacingly: "You are all alone in the world now. There is nobody else." Kassah was the last bastion of humankind. Our fortifications provided no protection whatsoever. The Stalkers tore them down like tin foil and massacred the sentries. His Highness, desperate to protect his people, had ordered all civilians into the palace. Then, last night, Myk returned. Her ship had come hurtling out of hyperspace smouldering but intact. Kassah's foremost pilot, and exceptional even amongst the planet's Galactic Order, Myk was a living legend. However, she had been missing since the arrival of the Reev and had long been assumed dead. Her charge: hope. Myk had spent the last two years investigating the Reev; what they were and where they had come from. On her expedition she had discovered something incredible: another inhabitable planet on the other side of the Cosmos, light years away. New orders were issuesd and the mission revised. We had to get His Highness and our people onto all functioning craft and off the planet. "Baaron! Fall back! There is no one left in this quarter!" Zol cried above blaster fire. We retreated towards the port where Myk was eagerly awaiting His Highness. My body ached and I tasted the blood of my brothers on me each time I licked my lips. This could not be for nothing. Not now. Zol was at my shoulder and now cast a laser fence grenade in front of us. The bomb would buy us some time, dismembering any Reev that attempted to pass. We ran. As we approached the port I saw His Highness battling a number of Reev that stood between him and the craft at the other end of the pier. Zol patted my shoulder, he had seen the same. We arced around the perimeter of the battlefield and began sniping Dreev as we closed in. Our strategy enraged the Stalkers and they lashed out murderously at the Royal Guard. We managed to cut a path through the Stalkers and His Highness was dragged through the breach to Myk. "Baaron, Zol! All of the people are on the craft, but I need a window of time to clear the port! Myk exclaimed. "Can you give it to me?" I looked at Zol, he nodded. "We can give you the window," I confirmed. "Hurry, get His Highness aboard." The first of the craft began to take off and the fighting became fiercer. The port had become the battle's focual point and the spidery Silac now came crawling over buildings in droves. I turned to face the incoming Reev; they were coming too quickly! Panic boiled inside me, there was nowhere to run. "Baaron, you must get onto a craft!" His Highness commanded urgently from a hovering craft. I couldn't. Myk needed the window and it was closing fast. "You must go Your Highness! You must go now!" I shouted. "Come with us!" He returned. "There is no time! Leave! You have to leave right now!" I cried hysterically, shooting uselessly into the waves of squalling Reev. The Royal Guard were pulling the young king indoors. "Highness! What will you call it?" I shouted. "What will you call your new planet?" He looked at me sadly as the craft took off. "Sanctuary!" He exclaimed. "I would call our new planet Sanctuary!" Tears streamed down my face as I turned my back on the departing ships. "And may you find it," I wished as I loaded my rifle and took aim at a snarling Reev. "May you find Sanctuary."

[inthemindofthepen]

Prompts for the Next Four Weeks

Hi All,

If you’re interested in continuing the writing workshop anonymously, I’m posting the prompts below for the next four weeks of the workshop.

PROMPT: I Would Name My Planet...

Post anytime between January 4 to 10

Receive partners by January 12

Comment on writing by January 16

PROMPT: Phantom

Post anytime between January 11 to 17

Receive partners by January 19

Comment on writing by January 23

PROMPT: Inheritance

Post anytime between January 18 to 24

Receive partners by January 26

Comment on writing by January 30

PROMPT: Counterfactual

Post anytime between January 25 to 31

Receive partners by February 2

Comment on writing by February 6

[inthemindofthepen]

PARTNERS FOR NOSTALGIA FOR THE FUTURE

Hi All,

Final week of the writing workshop - crazy! Your partners for this week are:

1 and 4

2 and 3

Thanks for participating!

Natasha

[inthemindofthepen]

Nostalgia for the Future, 4

‘Come in! I wasn’t expecting you.’

'My word, it is quite a storm out there.’

'Obviously you’ve protected yourself?’

'Yes, of course, I don’t think I could have survived without.’

'I’ll make you a hot drink, do you take sugar?’

'Hah! You still call this substitute by the classic name?’

'I do wish you would shut up about that. It’s not as if we had a choice. The rains from last year destroyed all the cane fields and store houses.’

'Well, I guess you’re right. The acid really turned hot, didn’t it?’

'The scientists can’t explain. It was mostly under control for the past two decades. Then, from where did the volcanic eruptions come?’

'The world’s unstable, you know this. We all know this. Rocks corrode, craters open, lava flows, smoke billows, it’s all a damned shame.’

'I heard that there was a time when the world was cleaner. Kinder. Gentler. More predictable. Men and women could even go out wearing nothing but their shirts and shorts.’

'Pfft, old wives’ stories. My great-granny said the same thing. This is our existence now, day to day, waiting for this nuclear winter to subside so that maybe, we have a chance to keep the elements at bay.’

'But what if, somehow, we can do more than just survive? One of the books I recovered from the library ruins told of a man named Johnny Appleseed. He could improve the earth and the ecosystem by just planting trees across the land.’

'I’d like to believe it, but do you see outside? How can we even begin?’

'Just one tree. We can start with the protected biomes, at least. If you can put in a good word to the Director and Legislature.’

'I’ll try. But it’s late. Did you need to stay the night?’

'Thank you, but no, the earthquakes are opening more fissures in the northern tundra. I may not make it back if I linger.’

'As you wish. Did you need help with your metal suit?’

'Not really, but can you check my radiation dosage in the liner? I haven’t been feeling good lately.’

[inthemindofthepen]

Nostalgia for the Future, 3

We know everything We've seen this before We know everything Is this all just an encore? History repeats itself, none of this is new Yet we never think twice in everything that we do Bombs drop, hearts break The poor give, the rich take Lucidity lost though pupils dilate Masters say nothing though pupils dilate If the conclusion of each chapter forewarns Of the fate of our children as yet unborn Why write introductions with such disregard We borrow audaciously on thin plastic cards We politic cunningly against humanity Innocence corrupted in satisfaction of vanity What have we not seen already just tell me! We can fix this now!…but first let’s take a selfie! Two World Wars, Chechnya, Rwanda We should know better by now than to swallow the propaganda We’re old enough now to recognise the patterns It’s so obvious you’ll see, put your thinking hat on Come on guys! Wake up! Reflect a little please! We can be the cure, I really believe But it just will not happen while we act like disease We know everything Look back or tomorrow we neuter We know everything Safeguard with nostalgia for the future.

[inthemindofthepen]

Nostalgia for the Future, 2

MOSCOW - A woman was rescued from an unearthed time capsule early this morning in Russia's capital. Identified as Leah Salisbury, of the United Kingdom, she was previously recorded as missing on a family vacation in 1980. Construction crews discovered her capsule while replacing telecom cables on the site of a former park. Salisbury was aged 25 on the vacation where was presumed at the time to have run away. Although she should now be more than double her age, her appearance is unchanged from her last family photo. Several of her belongings were recovered from the capsule, along with various memorabilia from the late seventies, also in mint condition. A telecom crew member, who asked not to be identified, said of the ordeal: "We first thought it was a broken piece of foundation concrete, but the curious shape prompted us to open it. The woman inside woke with a start once the drill pierced through." When asked about her predicament, Salisbury had no memories of how she came to be in the capsule. She is being treated for hypothermia at St. Peter's clinic but doctors have noted she is otherwise in stable condition. Other members of the Salisbury family have been unable to be reached for comment. Upon her release, Salisbury has stated she is eager to learn what has transpired in the world during her long slumber.

[inthemindofthepen]

Nostalgia for the Future, 1

The late dinner conversation circled around my sister and her inability to understand why people thought she never listened to them. "Duh," I thought, "it's because you don't listen to them, you don't care to listen to them since most of the time it is not about you." And then she goes, "But I've really been working on it, for like a while now, and it's what I plan to do in the future, you know, like I think I have a problem so I want to work on it!" So naturally a smirk and think to myself, laughing at how she is going to "work on it." And then there was the Chardonnay that loosened mother's lips. She can blame her emotional nature, but let's blame it on the Chardonnay. The spicy tuna rolls tasted much better before she accused her eldest son of being a moody-depressed-pot-smoking vagrant. The edamame was steaming until he lashed back, claiming he'll never be the son that she'd always dreamed he'd be. And I just sat there in the middle of it, eyes down at the table, trying to keep the peace when there was an opening in the bull pen. But there was no getting through amongst the too similar, far too stubborn minds, only heads that continually butted each other until adorable couples at surrounding tables made glances. My other siblings and I reached for our coats in a quiet revolution to end the madness, imploring our mother with our eyes. "Please, let's just go and forget this ever happened before we become something to rival reality television," is what our eyes would have said if they could speak. I maintained my composure and escorted my elder sister and brother to one of the cars, started the ignition, and headed for home. But it didn't stop. My eldest brother kept at it, kept digging under my skin. And so I let loose: "Do you know how difficult it is to listen to you two argue all the time? Half the time I can't stand to be in the house either! The last time you were at it with mom in the kitchen I left to meet up with Tripp and bitch about how stressful it is, you being so unappreciative of all mom does for you, and her not respecting you for being your own man, okay I get it! So try for once to just-" "-could you just shut up, Erik!" he retorted, "you know nothing about the world, you've never been anywhere but here! This is all you know, this is all you'll ever know, you don't get me, you don't get my music, you'll never leave here, you'll get married and have kids and live a boring life and never travel, and never see the world like I do and - " "-and actually Rory you no nothing about my life, about my future, I'm studying in Ireland next year, I don't want to live in a country like this, a country where people like John can pretend they are suicidal to argue themselves out of a jail sentence." Now tears streamed down my face unabashedly, radio playing Vance Joy in the background, but I could still hear my sister trying to stifle her snuffles and tears. I didn't stop there. "I've lost two of my friends in the last two years. I'm only twenty years old! What the fuck do you think I want to do?! All I want to do is to see and experience every part of the world around me, because maybe my time will come sooner than I think. Why do you think mom is and has been working so hard to keep this family together?! Because we don't know what will happen, okay, all we know is now..." My rage calmed. Some lingering tears and then, silence.

[inthemindofthepen]

ASSIGNMENT OF PARTNERS FOR BUT HOME IS A TIME / NOT JUST A PLACE

Hey All, Last week's prompt was a tough one but I appreciate your persistence! Partners whose work you should comment on by this Saturday (Jan 2): 2 and 4 1, 3, and 5 (group of three since we are an odd number so please comment on both your partners' pieces) Happy commenting!