daily dime: .ephriam.

awoken by a strange sound, i opened my eyes.

i wasn’t at home in my bed and it took me a few moments to remember where i was. i looked up to the window above the bed i was lying in and took note of the dark blue sky.

the sun hadn’t risen yet. what was the sound that woke me up?

i hear it again…someone singing in a language i can’t understand.

patrick warned us that we’d hear the muslim prayers 5 times a day. they would sing them over a loud speaker that would flood the valley. slightly irritated by being woken up for a prayer that i was not going to participate in, i rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. it had been a long day and there was another long day waiting for me.

finally, after a time, the singer stopped and i breathed a sigh of relief. now i could sleep and hopefully be well-rested for the day.

but then i heard another noise. just outside my window. someone was working. preparing for the day. then i heard ephriam’s voice. deep and smooth; he began to sing a song who’s melody i knew well but the words were in a foreign tongue.

in the still of the morning before anyone was awake, he was spending his time alone in worship as he began his tasks for the day.

i felt strange for a moment. like i was invading a private moment. but the more he sang, the more my spirit was at ease. i began to think of king david. how he worshipped without ceasing.

it didn’t matter to ephriam that he had to be up hours before every one.

he just worshipped.

it didn’t matter to him that no one was there to hear his singing and acknowledge the work he was doing.

he just worshipped.

i smiled and drifted back to sleep…

he just worshipped.

daily dime: .5.5.7.

Dark pavement.
Lights reflecting off every surface.
Rain dripping from my nose.
Tracing lines down my face.
Washing the world around me.

Dark stage.
Lights moving off every surface.
Music dripping from my ears.
Tracing lines around my heart.
Washing this mood inside me.

Dark smile.
Lights shining from the inside.
Laughter making me smile.
Tracing lines around my soul.
Washing the bleakness away.

really. no shooting.

so evidently, i’m a TOTAL slacker.  i know, i know, i can hear you gasp in shock.  steph?  slacker?  Never.   just like i’m never sarcastic. 

i still really want to participate in the daily dime, but have been reluctant to jump back in b/c i’ve felt really drained lately and don’t think i can manage much to write…let alone commit to writing something every day.  so…i’m going to be a rebel and make my own rules (the boys can vote me off the island if they want…but really, they’re nice boys and i’m sure they’ll put up with my crap). 

i am going to submit to the daily dime as much as i possibly can.  it might be every day.  it might be once a week.  heck.  it could even be twice a day if i was in the mood.  but i promise it will never be less that one submission a week.

please, as always, support the boys as they continue to write, write, write, and put me to shame.  (c; 

Gabe = http://typinghurts.blogspot.com/

Todd = http://initialdraft.blogspot.com/

Cuyler = http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com/

Steve = http://tactilecontact.blogspot.com/

Arthur = http://phantomsandshadows.blogspot.com/ 

daily dime: .fin.

Her hands rested lightly on the ivory keys. They felt good.  Smooth.  Cool.  Familiar.  

Now, if only she could manage to remember the joy that the sound used to induce.  If she could only forget that day. 

She willed herself to move. She pressed lightly with one finger.  Not really pushing the key, but rather just letting the weight of her finger bring it down.  The quiet tone sounded sad.  Lonely.  It must feel right at home, she mused.  Looking down at her hands, she willed them to keep moving.  She took in a breath and began to move the rest of her fingers. 

Her hands glided…no…floated across the black and white keys as the memory of the song began to fill her.  She closed her eyes and was transported back to her mother’s parlor… 

Sun was flooding through the large window, illuminating the small room.  The gold lettering on the binding of the books that lined the walls were shining and the room held a glow that seemed more beautiful that this world was capable of. 

There was a slender girl sitting at the piano, playing feverishly a song that was her everest.  Her brow was furrowed and her black hair swayed as she attacked the mind of Bethoveen.  Bright blue eyes flashed indignantly, knowing she would get the better of him this time. 

Here it was…the measure that she had yet to master…and there it went… 

The furrow on the brow and the indignation in the eyes turned into a smirk and a twinkle of pride.  She began to breathe more evenly and her hands started to feel like they weren’t attached to her arms and her arms were no longer attached to her shoulders and her shoulders were flying.  The piano ceased to be her instrument and she was singing the song with every part of her body… 

…her hands stopped abruptly.  Just short of the end of the piece. 

Forgetting wasn’t so easy.

===================================================================== You are viewing a Daily Dime story on https://stephonix.wordpress.com
The Daily Dime is a daily writing challenge created by Gabe and Cuyler. View other entries here:
Gabe – http://typinghurts.blogspot.com
Cuyler – http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com
Todd – http://initialdraft.blogspot.com

daily dime, the sixth: .rouen.

The room is sparse, cold and gray. 

This is strange… 

The girl sitting on the bed is slight and pale, but there is something in her eyes that makes one think that she was once more than the shell she now appears to be. 

…I expected today to feel different. 

Clothed in a simple white sheath, her pale skin seems that much paler.  She reaches up with a small, strong hand and runs her fingers through her almond colored locks.  It has grown since she’s been in this place and is now softly sweeping her small shoulders.   

Calm.  Is it actually possible to feel calm on a day such as this? 

Standing in one swift motion, she moves fluidly to the small window that was only just above her head.  In that quick movement, it’s almost easy to see how she managed the battlefield. 

Just one glimpse of the sky…Father, let me have just one look… 

Her prayer is answered as the dark clouds break slightly, revealing a small sliver of cobalt sky.  She takes a moment and tries to let the color soak into her memory before she turns back to the room that has been her home for much too long. 

I’m glad to be rid of you.  I never thought I’d hate anything as much as death, but I was wrong.  This prison…this prison is killing me slowly. 

She sits back down on the bed and sighs heavily.  Closing her eyes she begins to pray.  She prays for her parents.  For her friends.  For the men who fought beside her.  For the men who died along side her.  For her life.  For her country.  For her king.   

“Joan?”  Her prayer is interrupted by his low, firm voice. 

“It’s time.” ====================================================================== You are viewing a Daily Dime story on https://stephonix.wordpress.com
The Daily Dime is a daily writing challenge created by Gabe and Cuyler. View other entries here:
Gabe – http://typinghurts.blogspot.com
Cuyler – http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com
Todd – http://initialdraft.blogspot.com

daily dime, the fifth: ..lost..

This hurts.

My fingers are bleeding.

My mind is numb.

I’ve given too much.

I don’t know what’s mine anymore.

who knew writing was so hard?

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You are viewing a Daily Dime story on https://stephonix.wordpress.com
The Daily Dime is a daily writing challenge created by Gabe and Cuyler. View other entries here:
Gabe – http://typinghurts.blogspot.com
Cuyler – http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com
Todd – http://initialdraft.blogspot.com

daily dime, the fourth: .vidrio.

A small stream of sweat made it’s way slowly, irritatingly, down his spine.  He shifted his leather jerkin hoping the light wool shirt he wore beneath it would soak up the sweat.  Dark auburn hair was bound tightly at the nape of his neck by a stretch of fine leather and fell in a complex, five-strand braid to the small of his back.  The breeze coming at him from across the valley whipped the dark cloak hanging from his broad shoulders.

He took a deep breath filling his lungs with the clean air and his nose with the sweet, fresh scents that belonged to the world above ground.  Being above ground made his kin nervous and once they were accosted by the stark daylight and the expansive cobalt sky, all they could think about was going back into the Mountain.         

Turning from the valley below that stretched far beyond the range of his dark green eyes, he fixed his gaze on his home.  Shale Mountain was part of the range that the Men had christened Verre Lure or The Glass Range.  He liked to believe that they were given the name due to the jagged line they tore into the horizon and for the multitude of colors that were reflected by the sun on it’s peaks, but he knew the reason was far more complex than the aesthetic. 

It was the reason his family and the other Havad had always lived under the constant shadow of threat.  “Glass” the Men called it when they very well knew it was stones.  Precious stones.  Some of the Men had even nick-named the range the “diamond-hills”.   

He was very unlike any Havad in that he frequently loved to come out of the mountain and look over the peaceful valley.  It was a patchwork of a half a hundred shades of green and brown and gold, and each sunrise and sunset brought a new spectrum of colors to flood the valley.  Thinking again of the journey he must take, Javel turned away from the Mountain and let his gaze soak up the vision of land before him.  He closed his eyes and let the soft breeze cover his entire body.

Opening his eyes, he looked down at himself.  He took in his stature, his small hands, small feet, small torso, short legs and short arms.  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  We are small he thought but we are greater men. 

Javel heard Milal calling his name from the entry of the Mountain and knew it was time to return home.  Home.  Why was it the Shale never felt like home?  His family, his friends and even those he wouldn’t consider a friend all preferred the immense under-ground cities tied together in a network of tunnels beneath the Glass range.  They felt freedom in the ground and suffocation above it, when all he felt was a weight.  Suffocation in the ground and elation whenever he could get even just a glimpse of the sky.

His mother always said that Elshin had carved him from a special stone.  She said it was his destiny to be the voice of the Havad to the world.  But she died in his eighth spring and no one else understood his anxiety.

Milal called his name again, hastily this time “Javel!” his nervousness was apparent, “Stop staring at the sky boy, and get back into the Mountain.  The sky is resilient, I am positive it will still be here on the morrow.”

Javel smiled again.  Yes.  That was a guarantee, the sky was always there.

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You are viewing a Daily Dime story on https://stephonix.wordpress.com
The Daily Dime is a daily writing challenge created by Gabe and Cuyler. View other entries here:
Gabe – http://typinghurts.blogspot.com
Cuyler – http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com
Todd – http://initialdraft.blogspot.com

daily dime, the sunday short: .gullible.

“tuna?”

“yeah.  tuna.”

in the brownies?!?”

“yeah.  in the brownies.”

“but….why?”

“cuz’ it’s good.”

“well, is it just the juice, or is it the tuna too?  like, actual chunks of meat?”

“no.  it’s all the tuna.  it’s just blended.  obviously.”

“but, why?”

“it keeps them moist and it brings out the flavor of the chocolate.”

“yeah, but…..tuna??!!?”

“don’t worry….it’s dolphin safe.”

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You are viewing a Daily Dime story on https://stephonix.wordpress.com
The Daily Dime is a daily writing challenge created by Gabe and Cuyler. View other entries here:
Gabe – http://typinghurts.blogspot.com
Cuyler – http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com
Todd – http://initialdraft.blogspot.com