Monday, June 11, 2012
Timed Writing: 6/10/2012
Time: 10 minutes
Prompt: "... the backyard lit up in sudden flashes..."
Source: The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
The backyard lit up in sudden flashes that revealed the spots of rust on the sing set, the cat poop in the sand box, the uncut lawn, and the banana slug climbing the wall of the raised flower bed. With the lightning came rain. It beat, tympanic, on the rolled steel roofing, accumulated in gutters, and when the neglected autumn leaves occluded the downspouts, spilled over the sides in curtains of wet that rendered entrance or exit of the house impossible without a drenching.
In one such instant of illumination I saw a shape that was foreign to the scene -- a silhouette of a man, black against an electric white sky. By the time another discharge occurred, however, the figure was gone -- the backyard empty of aught save the usual detritus of a ruptured marriage and a sundered family.
I filled a glass of water and downed an omeprazole tablet -- a pharmaceutical lightning rod to dispel the unrest storming in my gut. Two or three slow circuits of the kitchen, feet falling sockless on the cold linoleum, gave the beverage and pill time to reach some sort of agreement with my stomach and esophagus.
I returned to bed. I did not sleep though. That image -- that dark shape -- appeared whenever I closed my lids. I knew who it was -- or who it had been, rather. He was dead. He had died six years before, but I had seen him on occasions such as this -- moments when he might appear and flee without disturbing anyone but me, and always in circumstances that would leave me, as well as those in whom I might confide, doubting the veracity of my vision.
(about my timed writing exercises)
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