Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Timed Writing: 1/30/2012
Time: 10 minutes
Prompt: Gunpowder was enough to calm
Source: Umberto Eco, The Prague Cemetery
Gunpowder was enough to calm my nerves. Just a brush -- a sprinkle of it on my tongue -- and my mind relaxed. I breathed long and easy once the old familiar taste filled my mouth. An unseemly flavor, yes, but for one such as me, a pleasure beyond compare. I'd had a hard time of it that year -- the year of the cannon -- but not nearly so hard as some.
Becca, the wench who brought me the powder horn when I began to rant and tear about the room -- she'd seen much worse than I ever did; known the rough end of many an uncouth smokesucker in her years. But lived to forget it she had, and that said much for the fires burning in her wilted breast.
"How long have I been here, Becc? Eh, girl?"
"Nigh seven hours now, Davy," said she. She'd have known too, what with them watch faces sewed into the skin of her arms like that. Never without time, her. Maybe she could break them -- stop their action with a blow or two -- but she could never be rid of them altogether. They'd sent their springs deep by then and took their windings from Becca's sinews and meat like a man takes his strength from whiskey and gunpowder.
(about my timed writing exercises)
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