creative writing – Tales of A Curly Island Girl

Q&A a Day for Writers: Immortality

Todayʻs prompt is on immortality. Create a character who is immortal and explain what they struggle with.

One day she woke up, many many years ago and knew immediately that something had changed. It was her 33rd year around the sun. Her younger siblings continued to age and become old, and yet, she stayed the same.

Sheʻs had some lovers here and there but whatʻs the point if each one will leave her? She was never able to have a family and she has never found someone that shares this curse. Sheʻs watched as every single one of her family members moved to different parts of the world and passed on. They began to forget as each new generation was born. They forgot that she was family – so she decided to separate herself.

Besides all of those “ailments”, if you will. Her biggest gripe is not being able to save everyone. Sheʻs lived through many wars, many pandemics, and many regimes and has seen so much pain and destruction. Although she has lived for so long, she has not found a way to fully help the people of the earth. For as the years go by, so does industrialization. There are only a few places left untouched. There is always something blocking her way.

Yes, living forever could be a gift, but to her, it has always been a curse. For the things she is trying to do, the things that make us all human: loving, having special people to grow old with, sharing secrets, changing someoneʻs life, is not measurable or possible when you can never die.

“Immortality is a terrible curse”
– Simone De Beauvoir

Happy Curl, Happy Girl

Signing off,

Tales of a Curly Island Girl

Q&A a Day for Writers: The Sky

Today’s prompt is to describe the sky without using the words: blue, gray, clouds, green, or sun.

When I look up into the heavens I see something grand. My initial thought when I open my eyes it’s to see what the sky looks like. It’s miraculous, it’s nothing short of exquisite. It’s the purples and the oranges and the yellows that travel like watercolor exploding across a canvas, when the day finally meets up with the night. It’s the trails of white, sometimes it looks like cotton balls, fluffy and big, but sometimes its like beautiful lace strewn across a white surface. Some days the sky is sad. Where the tears fall, our grass grow, our land is replenished. And on some days the sky is furious, flooding the earth and cleansing everything. The sky offers us so much.

Can you imagine a world without that. It would be a shame to only see a blank canvas when we look towards the heavens? Can you imagine little fingers reaching for the stars and not seeing anything there? Can you imagine laying on a blanket face up and not being able to count how many floating pictures you see go by? Can you imagine not being able to connect with a spiritual realm because there were no sky?

It has so much to offer to us, the color, the presence, the rain, the moon, the stars – all of it like a beautiful blanket. Could you imagine life without it?

Yeah, me neither.

Happy Curl, Happy Girl

Signing off,

Curly Island Girl

Q&A a Day for Writers: Fill-In “Burning”

Todayʻs prompt is a creative one! I havenʻt written anything creative in quite some time, so I will give myself some grace, haha. Oh, and disclaimer, whatever else you read from this point on has nothing to do with my own life (although, you might never know and that is truly the beauty of creative writing).

______ is burning. Fill in the space and the rest of the scene.

His heart is burning. Not literally, but it almost feels that way.

Today, he woke up and something didn’t feel right. As soon as his eyes opened, he saw the sun rising through the curtain. The orange and the yellows blending together creating the most beautiful color he had ever seen. It seemed like it would be a good day, granted by this beautiful sight. However, in the pit of his stomach, he felt sick. Something was wrong.

He turns his head, and the other side of the bed was empty. She usually wakes earlier than him, he’s not really a morning person. He sits up and slides off of the bed. Itʻs eerily quiet. At this time, he usually can hear the bustling of objects as she packs his lunch and makes his coffee, humming along or giggling to the words of a podcast or YouTube video. How odd?

He slowly begins his descent down the stairs, the sound of creaking footsteps leading him. Hm, he smells freshly made coffee sitting in the coffee pot, but no mug was out for him on the kitchen counter. He opens the fridge and his food is sitting in containers from the night before – leftover spaghetti. He calls out for her. No response. He calls out again to an empty home.

He spots her purse by the door, her phone on the table, and her keys on the wall still hanging. Something is wrong. Where could she have gone? Unsure, he opens the front door with the sun already a quarter of the way into the sky. He calls out again. No voices, except the sound of the the little brown birds tweeting from the tree on the front lawn. It seems the whole neighborhood has already left to start their day or are still sleeping.

He walks out of the house and around to the back yard. The pool is empty, aside from just a few flowers from the neighbors tree floating around in the water. He sees no sign of her having been there, and the back door is still locked. His concern is now growing. He walks back inside the front door and begins checking the guest bathroom and bedroom. Sometimes she sits in here if sheʻs on a work call leaning on the brown desk we picked up from her coworker. Nope. She’s not there. He calls out again and goes back upstairs to grab his phone. Now is the time to call 911. People donʻt just disappear. She wouldnʻt disappear.

He returns to the bedroom and retrieves his phone from his nightstand. A piece of paper was under it. He picks it up curiously, hopefully its a note. He must have missed it, distracted by the sunrise and discomfort for no apparent reason. His eyes are scanning the small torn piece of notebook paper and reads as his expression turns cold and angry:

I have no words for you. None. Here is all I have mustered up.

How could you? I gave you everything. I answered a phone call. You know the one that says ʻElectric Companyʻ? Yeah, that’s not the electric company.

I was good, wasnʻt I?

His heart is burning. The same way he burned her. Today he deserves that feeling, for how do you distinguish a heart that is fueled by kerosene?

Happy Curl, Happy Girl

Signing off,

Tales of a Curly Island Girl