flash fiction friday #69
#69 on a good friday feel like a good omen, heheheh...
flash fiction friday #69 trigger; inclusions: gorge, tingle, throb, bathe, trouble.
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, structural/thematic challenges, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.09a.m. friday, trinbago time; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago time.*
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, song or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to this/my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment here on my blog).
you may join in at any time prior to deadline.*
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on this/my trigger-post or fasbook note or instastory or whaever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago time.* [in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i'll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*
write fresh!
walk good.
posted by sweet trini @ 11:57 am
2 comments
2 Comments:
DISTANT DRUM by Dahlia Fernandes
I heard the drum throb far in the distance.
I was certain that it was trying to have a conversation with me. Steady was its beat. Hollow was its sound.
Its pace and precision reminded me of a metronome. I slowly started to feel more grounded.
A strange yet interesting dialogue began between us. I threw my shrill voice into the navy night sky. In return, there were drum fills and booms. We found synergy.
In a few minutes, it was apparent that we were somehow moving in perfect rhythm and melody.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Synchronized in a natural crescendo and decrescendo. It felt like we knew each other for centuries prior. With only my ears to trust, its sound resembled that one of a large African djembe.
I imagined the curvature of its dark wooden shell. I started to conjure up ridges designed into its body with both an aesthetic as well as a spiritual purpose to tattoo markings of the ancient world.
Just then, as our exchange escalted, I felt a cool breeze from my tiny toes to the roots of my brunette locks. My olive skin started to tingle. All the trouble stirring in my weighing heart began to fade. The sweet wind was most definitely a timely gift from the depths of the gorge that was in close proximity to my tiny wine-coloured brick home.
I thought to myself, “How are we in such percussive perfection?”
Its pulse and my calm breath harmonized. I could not help but move my lanky limbs and wide child-bearing hips. Mesmerized in a beautiful madness, I swung my arms one at a time. My wild hair took life and direction from my limber neck toss. My chants and vocal melodies were joined by the rustling palm trees in my front yard.
The louder the barrel resounded, so did the volume of my voice and the swing of my hips.
A few more minutes of untamed musicality between strangers passed. Thoughts of the rope that held the skin of the drum head started to fill my curious mind. I knew that the deliberate tightness of the rope controlled its pitch and tone. I felt sad that it took the skin of the drum being bound to create its glorious tonality. Ironically, it evoked in me a sense of freedom and movement. My voice shifted to what now sounded like short cries. It was a cry of happiness. I felt understood. I felt seen. Boom! Right then, there was a sweet adrenaline rush to my head and an apparent immobilizing weakness in my knees.
I dropped to the ground and panted heavily. I slowly opened my crinkled shut eyes and tried to focus on the unusually bright stars. I tried to regain my composure. I could still hear the throb of the night drum ever so faintly.
I laid there on that lime green earth for hours as I bathe in pale yellow moonlight.
Left with only the magical echoes of that distant drum resonating through every inch of my body, I cradled myself to sleep.
my fff#69 posted on this blog, directly above this post, or@ https://urbanfolktales.blogspot.com/2019/04/fff69.html
walk good.
Post a Comment
<< Home