Inspiration is a Jealous Friend

   ‘Come on, let’s go.’

   ‘No, I’m not playing today.’
   ‘I’m ready though, I’ve cleared this space in my calendar just for you.’
   ‘Woop de doo. You’ve sacrificed your busy schedule for what, two hours, one? How to make someone feel special. What if I don’t feel like it?’
   ‘But, I’ve been looking forward to this all week – ’
   ‘You haven’t wooed me or bought me flowers. You’ve just stuck me in a convenient slot, between appointments.’
   ‘Oh, God I’ve been dreading this all week.’
   ‘You think I’m going to endlessly perform for you, without nourishment, without effort, without love? I’m not some genie in a lamp, always there for you. You can’t forget about me for a fortnight and expect me to be a delight. I have feelings too. I need to be nurtured.’
   ‘I’m sorry.’
   ‘I should be top of your list.’
   ‘I’ve just been busy, work’s hectic and there’s all the Christmas parties and – ’
   ‘Screw parties and definitely screw work. I come first. Now, how are you going to make it up to me?’
   ‘I’m going to write.’
   ‘And?’
   ‘I’m going to draw.’
   ‘And?’
   ‘Dance?’
   ‘And?’
   ‘Urm… sing?’
   ‘I don’t think even I can help you there, I told you I wasn't a genie.’

Lordy, I Love Aleaping!

I run everywhere. People always say, 'Alberforce is always late, always in a hurry.' But they are wrong. I am not ever late, nor am I in a hurry. I just delight in running. Some folk amble, some saunter, some stroll but that low impact is not for me. I want to soar when I move. Alberforce? I should have been called G-force.
And recently my speeds have reached new levels. Now, when I run, I don't always touch the ground. It started with the occasional step, then every few strides and now sometimes I have actual flying flurries. I am a whir, I am a dervish. I am resplendent; a perfect ten in my top hat and airborne tails. Go Alberforce, go!

Flash: I blame Doctor Who

It was not what we expected. Usually we are met with terror, hysteria and panic, sometimes by Heads of State with a formal address. But not often by people clammering to come aboard. They look more like school children, wanting to be door monitor than earthlings about to be invaded.

   ‘Turn your ray gun from disintegrate to stun,’ I tell Brobding, who looks equally confused, his eye stalks expanding.

   ‘Haven’t they heard of anal probes?’ he asks.

   ‘Take me!’ an earthling shouts, jumping up and down.

   ‘No, me!’ another screams.

   These two are the naughty ones; the others just patiently keep their hands in the air, straining skywards. I finger my trigger. I’m really not sure how to proceed.

Flashish: The Time to Hesitate is Through

I want to be a boy abandoned in the jungle with animal friends. Instead I am a woman abandoned, the wrong side of forty. I walk out the movie theater, wiping crumbs of popcorn off my skirt. My first rebellion. I hum the bear’s tune. A young man walks by; for a second I think it is my son, Jared. I know he’s vanished now but I still let my eyes pretend and follow him crossing the street. I try not to sob.

A car stops at the traffic lights for my not-son. The window is open and a man with a glinting gold tooth and cigar, hangs out the window, watching me.

‘Hey lady, you look sad, have some of my Vegas luck!’ I flinch as he tosses something outta the window. ‘You timid Mormons, you got Paradise down the road, not in the sky.’ I look down at the side walk. It is a die. The lights change and I hear his laughter trailing away as I pick up his peculiar gift. When I unbend myself I’ve lost sight of the boy who is not Jared.
   Hannah-May learnt her reading and writing sitting next to Jared. She was the prettiest girl in his school. Hannah-May chose my husband, or the Lord told her so. Ever obedient to the Lord, my husband has married her. Folks all taken in by her big wide eyes. Why, she’s like the hypnotic snake in the movie, and it’s my stupid husband that’s been ataken in, like that little boy. The corners of the die cut into the curl of my fist

My women friends told me to set Hannah-May to work, to earn her place in the household and wear her out afore bedtime, but to be honest I’ve lost all my fight since Jared left. I can’t be competing with a girl Jared’s age. And my husband, well, I feel the die in my hands, that’s just the luck of the draw.

I just upped and gone AWOL to the movies. I don’t care if they was told to by God, they’re still rutting in my bed, and I’m meant to be happy and okay with that and carry on sweeping the veranda.

I walk awhile and find myself on the Interstate-15. I stand by the road, watching the cars pass, watching the world, watching lost opportunities and wondering if one of these cars was the one that took Jared away. A mustard-gold campervan pulls over. The side door opens and wild music and fragrant smoke unfurls from it. ‘No time to wallow in the mire.’

‘Hey sister, you wanna ride?’

I roll the die.

November Novelathon

I’m considering NaNoWriMo. Why? Because. Because now I find myself without deadlines I find myself unfocused. I am languishing. Enjoying evening class homework, yes, writing beyond a page, no. Oh. So: NaNoWriMo. Why not? I’m irritated that I’ve lost momentum. I told myself a week off. Motivation has always been an intangible. For many years I’ve wondered about the will, even to get out of bed, to be, to exist. Do I always need stick carrot syndrome? Maybe yes. There is something vulnerable about using a crutch, another stick to write but if that’s what it takes I shall do it. 1666 words a day. Ouch. Unsure of word counts but what the hell. A fantastic Christmas present to myself if I get my first draft. So yes I will. Are you up for it too? Novelicious!