Warm Up

Close Enough – Warm Up Exercise

/ JoHawkTheWriter
Photo credit: MTSOfan via Visualhunt.com / CC BY-NC-SA

Photo credit: MTSOfan via Visualhunt.com / CC BY-NC-SA

She dipped her hands into water before cupping them around a blob of clay she had thrown on to the wheel. The clay was cold. The wheel began to spin. She kneaded it, using the rhythmic motion that started every dance. Drawing it up and pushing it down, centering it on the wheel. The clay warmed to her touch. It yielded to the guidance of her fingers as  she began drawing it up into the shape her hands knew so well. The shape her hands had touched every morning. It had shattered with news of the accident.

She pushed the feelings of frustrations, anger and loss from her mind. She didn’t want to infuse the clay with those emotions. Instead she closed her eyes and focused on the memory of that long-ago day, a day she recalled as if it were yesterday. She could smell the scent of him, feel the heat of his body as he placed his hands on hers. She felt the clay being molded by her hands, changing with the pressure she applied.

She stopped the wheel and opened her eyes, smiling at the form which stood before her. It wasn’t exactly the same, it could never be that. But it would bring her at least some comfort. She carefully removed it from the wheel and attached the handle. She knew the next steps, they wouldn’t be easy to endure. Time to cure, time to endure the fire of the kiln, and the multiple steps of glazing to forge the impenetrable outer layer that would protect the contents.

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The day had finally arrived to open the kiln. Inside her best friend waited for her, the one who knew all her secrets, her sorrows and her happiness.

“Yes Friend, the coffee is ready. Should we try it out?”

The steaming brew cascaded into the cobalt blue interior. She stared at the black pupil encased in blue. His eyes. No, it wasn’t exactly the same. But it would have to be close enough. Close enough to allow her to return to the daily rhythm of life, close enough to pretend that she was moving on.

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Orb – Today’s Warm Up Exercise

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 2 Comments
Photo credit: freestock.ca ♡ dare to share beauty via Visual hunt / CC BY

Photo credit: freestock.ca ♡ dare to share beauty via Visual hunt / CC BY

Here is today’s Warm Up Exercise. Hope you enjoy it.

A whip struck hard across her face. Dagma didn’t stop. She could feel the thin line of her flesh begin to burn and knew the unseen branch had drawn blood. A howl rose from the rabid dogs behind her as the scent carried through the woods. They wanted a taste of blood. Her blood.

Her lungs burned, her legs trembled from fatigue and she could feel a muscle spasm in her side. Her mind told her she could not falter now. Dagma ran. She envisioned herself as strong and fresh as she had been days ago, when she had first begun her escape. The woods were misty gray. Great black sentinel trees rose in front of her to cut her off from her destination. The ground beneath her was covered in slick leaves and slimy mud.

The thinning of the trees didn’t seem real at first. The mist began to part, clearing the way for her. The baying of the tireless dogs grew louder, closer now. Dagma ran. The woods gave way to the setting sun steaking amber hews across a silver meadow. In the center, she saw the white orb and raced to where it stood, sinking to the ground next to it. She had to be careful, disturbing the delicate orb in any way would ruin everything. She cupped one hand around the orb and gently plucked it from where it grew.

She stilled her ragged breath and tilted the fluffy orb into the sunlight. “Come on. Please,” she silently begged. A golden flash shot across the face of the orb tracing a path along the fine filaments that the connected to each seed. No, not that one. Dagma waited. The golden path changed, again and again, and still she waited. She could hear the unrelenting dogs, they would be on her shortly.

The meadow trembled from the pounding of the giant dogs racing towards her. They crashed through the edge of the woods snarling in delight at the sight of their prey in front of them. She didn’t look up, seeing only the golden path as it chased across the orb. There, that was the one. She raised the orb to her lips, closed her eyes and blew gently. Dagma was gone. The monstrous dogs came barking and yelping into the center of the meadow, vainly searching for what was no longer there. Above them, dandelion seeds floated in the last light of the setting sun.

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer