Home – Free Write Friday
It’s been a while since I took on Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday challenge but this one called out to me. Enjoy.
The colors pulled me to the wagon like a moth to a flame, rich red and sky blue scarves hung in the doorway. Golden yellow filigree designs trimmed the coach’s edges.
I called out, “Hi, anyone here?”
No one answered.
Tentatively, carefully I walked up to the wagon. I listened but heard nothing. I looked around, then walked to the front of the wagon. No one was there. I returned to the back and carefully stepped up the small ladder and entered a new world.
A large fire blazed in the center of a grove of trees. A circle of men, women, and children talked and ate. A small group on the other side of the fire played drums, violins, and flutes while two beautiful women danced with abandon. Their wide skirts undulated in rainbows of color.
A small, warm hand slipped into mine and I looked down into large black eyes of a little boy. I felt as if I was falling into the midnight sky as he shyly smiled at me.
“We were waiting for you. Come, they want you to dance.”
Holding my hand, he led me straight through the fire. Heat engulfed me but I felt no pain, Yellow white brightness blinded me so I could not see. But, I felt safe with the boy’s hand holding mine tightly. A cool breeze, like a whisper,washed over me as we stepped from the fire. I opened my eyes to find myself wearing a colorful dress. The soothing sound of flute music sent a message to my feet and I began to move. My guide stepped back with a wide smile lighting his face as I swirled in the midst of the circle of dancers.
The drums demanded, the violin sang, the flute soared. I was as light as a cloud dancing across the sky. In and out of dancers, I wove. We turned and we leapt. Our legs and arms posed in arabesque designs creating living sculptures. And then a drum beat or tremble of the flute sent us swirling, hands gently brushing past hands, and backs, and shoulders. Graceful and soft as butterflies we moved.
My body was one with the music, gliding and flowing on melodies wild as the silence of space. Smiles rose into eyes deep as the universe. I was home.
Thank you. Your prose poem wrapped me in a magic blanket and, for a few moments, I was there with you and the others in the clearing.
Thanks so much Bob for your kind words. And thanks for sharing the story.Doing these Free Writes is always a magical experience for me. I’m happy it brought you some light.
This is so beautiful! I love the color, warmth, and music of your story, Skywalker. I can see you dancing “and flowing on melodies wild as the silence of space. “
Thanks, Carol. I really like doing these Free Write’s because I really never know where I will go when I write the first word. But, I only can write when I feel a connection. ANd yes, this one did speak to me and it was fun writing about dancing.
I remember you saying that you loved to dance. And I love how you are able to dance with your words and images when you write 🙂
Great memory and thanks for the kind words.
How lovely. I like the way the music transports you and lifts you up to your true home.
I’m glad you decided to do a FWF again – your writing is rich in detail and your descriptions are so vivid. I hope you do some more creative writing in the near future.
Pingback: Moral Complexity | Robert Hall
Thanks, Suzanne. I always feel that I’m really not that good. I can only write when I feel something and this was the first Free Write that really touched me.
Ah, in the beginning I thought this was going to be a creepy tale, but it turned out to be a colourful joyous moment for the narrator. And I swear I was almost dancing, too!
Thank you Uzo. I’m always surprised at how many people like and respond to these free writes.
A magical tale filled with warmth and trust. Glad the story spoke to you; your words play like music in this tale. 🙂
Thanks you, and thanks for following me.
You’re welcome. Long overdue…
Lovely! And I must say, this wagon and the imagery it inspired, were they Roma (aka. the people often referred to as Gypsies)?
Many of the other writers classified it as such. In my story it was just home.