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No Mercy

There was a seed, there was a tree
Then there came a motor and an edge
An indelicate labor and now a stump
Snuffling the day, restless to rampage
A brain torn from the soil
Now a new red boar
Growling through the foliage:
No kneeling before the cart
No pause before the charge
No mercy at the root


This past week's WordCrafters meeting included a plethora of prompt ideas, including writing from a gardening or nature-based perspective, a word list, a suggested beginning sentence, and a collection of images. I used the word list (the green words above are from the list) and maybe, in a sideways fashion, the nature-based perspective. 

And then there were the images. For some reason lately, I've been noodling through two prompts on Wednesdays, writing one out for sharing and keeping the other to turn over during the week. The image this week? A woman drumming light. It caught my eye and then my brain and then it embedded itself into an old idea that I'd abandoned years ago and kept going. 

As I was driving to work on Thursday, enjoying the grey and breezy morning, I started pulling in the idea of a drive between leaning trees, slightly tweaked street names, and a morning moon. Some of these ended up on small yellow sticky notes in my phone case and then in a small notebook. It's supposed to be another breezy day today and I hope it ruffles the ideas and makes them restless. 

That's probably the best time to snatch them up in a notebook and hope they retain at least some of their form and color. 

TBH, I feel like I'm surrounded with notebooks full of restless ideas that are looking a little baleful in this early spring light, wondering why I'm always chasing down new prompts. This is the merciless root of my idea that I might need a break from the new to work the existing ideas into shape. To give the dwarves in my daydreams time to actually build something solid; to give the goblins a chance to riot; to give the rats a chance to reveal their own secrets. To give the light a chance to beat and shine and illuminate the corridors and streets and phrases and pages. 

-- Chrissa 

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