Prompt: Tell a story that you haven't told yet. Give it a different ending than the one that really happened. Don't tell us where you start changing things. Just go.
water pulling you under
slipping away until all air gone
the fight, gasping at life
She found herself drawn to the water's edge and stood there a while. As the sand shifted beneath her feet her gaze drifted lazily towards the horizon. The sky was a deep blue, mirroring the intensity of the ocean and the sun sat high in the sky. A trickle of sweat rolled down her face and the slight breeze felt cool against her skin.
Her gaze shifted downwards and feeling the gentle pull of the water as it swirled around her ankles she began to inch forward. Goosebumps rose to cover her flesh and she gave a slight shudder. Her steps were tentative at first but once the water reached her midsection she gave way to the cold and began to swim.
The gentle rocking motion of the water was comforting, soothing and she soon found herself lost in thought. Turning towards the beach she smiled, life just didn't get better than this.
She didn't see it coming . . . the large wave that wrapped its arms around her and pulled her under. Spinning out of control she was confused and disorientated. Round and around she rolled unable to get a solid footing. Tirelessly she fought to reach the surface, to catch her breath, but the grip of the ocean was strong and had no plans of letting go. In that moment fear gave way to acceptance. She felt the fight leave her body and a calm descend upon her, it was time.
Prompt: Talk about the ways in which your body is awesome.
The Scintilla Project has been encouraging me to open up and dig deep, to share things I wouldn't ordinarily share. This body prompt was a challenge because, like many, I don't think my body is awesome at all.
there are days
when you can see laughter reflected in my eyes
there are days
when my skin feels as soft as a babys bottom
there are days
when clothes create an alluring silhouette
there are days
when my smile brightens your face
there are days
when my body feels awesome
is not one of those days!
Don't leave me hanging here, share with me some of the ways in which you think your body is awesome.
Prompt: What are your simplest pleasures? Go beyond description and into showing the experience of each indulgence.
I find myself the most reflective when I'm near water and it remains one of my simplest pleasures. Whether it's soaking in a tub full of bubbles, sitting near a trickling stream, boating along a still lake, listening to the rain beat against the window pane or hearing the waves crash against a rocky shoreline. It calms me, soothes me, relaxes me, restores me and stirs my soul.
Prompt: Write the letter to the bully, to the cheater, to the aggressor that you always wanted to but couldn't. Now tell them why they can't affect you anymore.
The smell of bonfire filled the air as we placed our foil wrapped parcels in amongst the hot embers. I can't help but smile at the memory of potatoes that refused to cook and bananas filled with hot melting chocolate. The girl guide outing had been fun but it felt as though the evening drew to a close too soon.
I've always been drawn to swings . . . . . the way they make your stomach lurch when you go too high, the feeling of freedom as you soar, the breeze in your hair as you tilt your head back and turn your face skyward. It was there I sat waiting at the local park for my parents to pick me up.
On the set next to me were a group of older boys. My instincts told me something was off but I figured my parents would be there soon so I stayed put. Suddenly one of them looked over at me and said "tell me the time or I'll rape you".
My swing came to a sudden halt and shaking I looked at my watch and told them the time. I thought my heart was going to come out of my chest it was pounding so hard but I tried to remain calm. I remember feeling confused, thinking he only had to ask nicely and I'd have given him the time, he didn't have to threaten me.
Just a week or so later I was at a school fete with my mother. When I saw the boy from a distance and started freaking out I ended up telling her what had happened. My mother (always fearless) marched right up to him and, from the look on his face, gave him a humiliating dressing down in front of all his friends.
In hindsight I think he was just a kid trying to look 'hard' in front of his mates. My hope is that he realized 'rape' isn't a word to use lightly (especially not on a 13 year old girl) and that he now treats women with the respect they deserve.
Many of you have wondered how I am able to get such close up shots of our squirrels so in order to satisfy curious minds I thought it would be fun to share my setup.
I sit and create art in our sunroom which you may have seen pictures of before. I love to watch the wildlife while I'm working and take time out to photograph our visitors through the window.
Over the winter we left our patio table out and one evening my husband came home to find me using it as a feeding station for the squirrels. I'd been feeling guilty after getting some squirrel proof bird feeders so this way everyone was taken care of.
Now both the birds and squirrels are often up close and personal, just the otherside of the window you see here. They seem to know that they have nothing to worry about as long as I'm the other side of the glass panes.
I used to use my 70-300mm zoom lens for many of my bird and squirrel shots but this setup has allowed me to use my 100 mm macro lens giving me a lot more detail (all shots are hand held).
I love how observing them up close has made me appreciate the little nuances that I would otherwise have not noticed.
Prompt: Show a part of your nature that you feel you've lost. Can you get it back? Would it be worth it?
I heard someone say "it's time". My breath caught in my throat as my heart pounded. Two simple words that would forever change my life. I wanted to shake them off like an ill fitting sweater but the more I struggled the tighter they took hold.
My feet began to to move and I found myself inching towards the room where you lay. There was a strange sound that seemed out of place . . . . . a death rattle filled the room, filling my heart and soul with its presence.
I took your hand and just moments later I felt you leave. With one last breath, you, the man who had meant the world to me were gone. In that moment I felt ripped wide open as though there was a gaping hole right through the very core of me. A part of me was lost that day. Even though nine years have passed, and the hole is smaller, a part of me will remain forever lost.
The squirrels have been out in force this week enjoying their food.
It was cute how this little guy liked to sniff the food before eating it. I'd like to think he was taking the time to savor the moment before tucking in.
I'd never seen them tear apart a monkey nut before, it was fascinating to watch.
I love the image below . . . . I can't decide whether it looks like the squirrel is scheming some kind of wicked plot, rubbing its paws together in glee, cradling it's prize or just contemplating life. What do you see?
Prompt: Talk about your childhood bedroom. Did you share? Where did you hide things?
As a young child I shared a bunk bed with my sister. I got to climb the ladder and sleep on the top bunk while she slept on the bottom. The ceiling had a textured plaster treatment with lots of little droplets and I would spent hours breaking them all off. It felt therapeutic somehow, although I'm sure my parents weren't to happy about it.
We had these large fairy posters up in our room and there were nights, when we were fast asleep, that they would suddenly come crashing down. The noise they made in the dead of night was terrifying yet each time we put them back up only to re-experience the same terror just days or weeks later.
I remember going on a girl guide trip where I had to sleep on the bottom bunk bed and if freaked me out. I kept looking at the underside of the top bunk wondering what would happen to me if it collapsed on top of me. I wonder if my sister ever thought about that as she lay beneath me.
At the time I had an Orville the Duck toy puppet. He was this strange looking green furry duckling with a nappy (diaper) and a large safety pin. He was on a show in the UK as the puppet of the ventriloquist Keith Harris and he would sing "I wish I could fly right up to the sky, but I can't" and everyone would shout "you can" in response.
This toy puppet had a hole in his back for you to put your hand in and work his mouth but I used to use the hole as a secret compartment where I would stash all my sweets (candy). I remember being devastated when I found out that my mum had had a huge clear out of our toys and had donated him to a local hospital or doctors office. I don't know if I was more upset that I'd lost my toy or my secret stash of sweets.
Isn't it funny the toys we get attached to as children?
I had fun working in the studio this weekend. I can never work on just one thing at a time, I always have to have several things on the go. That way I can move from one piece to another as I wait for paint to dry.
My journal supply is getting low so I need to start creating . . . . hopefully I will have some to share with you soon.
Did you get creative this weekend? Did you do something fun? Feel free to share, I'd love to hear what you got up to.
Seth is one of those incredibly unique individuals that has a huge heart, a warm soul and an amazing ability to unite artists of all abilities. If you follow his blog, The Altered Page, you will know what I'm talking about and when you pick up a copy of his book you will experience this first hand.
I feel extremely honored to have a piece of my artwork featured in its pages along with so many other incredibly talented artists. Having something published always felt like a far away dream, something always out of reach but then Seth placed that dream firmly within the palm of my hand.
Seth has been introducing us to the 31 main artists contained within this book over on his blog. I urge you to stop by, the talent really is incredible.
two layered images textured with pumpkin grunge and word
As she gazed upon the dried up leaf she ruminated about its story. The tiny bud first bursting forth. The rain and sun that nourished it as it turned luscious green. It's blaze of glory at the change of another season fading away to a brittle brown in it's twilight hours. Yet even in its fragility, at the end of its life, there it was desperately hanging on.