WRITING TRAILS: One Cottonwood Lane

ONE COTTONWOOD LANE

The noise embraced her entire space – vibration resonating in her bones. Any moment she resigned in her thinking, she would be flying through the air; the pain would be unthinkable. It was time, ran through her mind...

An eternity, it seemed. Banging and sharp cracks..thuds. And always – the deafening noise, like a train going over and through her. So large a reality that there was no room - even for fear. Only being, enduring. Time now - an enemy, pulling every iota of participation from her. She belonged to a reality that was not hers; yet it was. A surreal reality, not imaginable in her longest, deepest nightmares.

Then the eternity slowly abated, the noise lessened, the stinging against her skin slowed, and then stopped.. She ran her fingers gingerly over her eyelids, raking off a layer of dust and mud. She lifted herself from the barrow ditch and gazed upon a world she did not recognize. 

In the distance the tornado slowly worked itself back into the clouds. Interesting, how it was not as huge as she had imagined while she had waited through the eternity of its destruction over her property.

Today – was a good day to die, she recalled WARF saying so many times on Star trek. But today...was not her day.

She embraced the deafening quiet...

Danielle Simone
16 January, 2018
Hasty, Colorado

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I so enjoy writing - both fiction and Non.  My first story, a western, written in high school.

Yet - as with so many events in my life, they lay unfinished, partially created, lying in wait for their birthing.  It IS frustrating and bores deep into my psyche if/when I succumb to the 'editor's' charm!

But thanks to my Mother's enduring genetics, my courage kicks in. I hug myself and thank my Divine inner self for it's MANY blessings I possess...and go on.  THE CIRCLE OF LIFE, and all that tommy-rot.  (Which isn't such 'tommyrot', of course!)

One of my many short-lived 'events' are scenes from story embryos...partial 'realities' that pop up in my mind and then - disappear just as quickly as they appeared.  Over the years, there must have been over 50 or more.

An elderly friend once told me when I was in my early 30's (many, many moons ago...) that I should write a book about IDEAS.  How wise he was; how 'usual me' was I.

If you are a writer, take heed!  Persevere; grab your tenacity; knock that eternal EDITOR off your shoulder and kick it TO THE CURB!  Forever!

Trust in your Divine inner self to guide you, to take you to those 'story places' that lay somewhere in that GREAT BEYOND of our psyche's.

Trust that......Nature WILL PREVAIL.