Photo Prompt: Cliff Stairs

I was talking with Goldy (https://fishofgold.net/) the other day and we came up with the idea of trying to do a photo prompt to get ourselves back into writing a bit more and to try and engage with others in the blogosphere a bit more too.  So, here we are.  A photo.  And the prompt?  Write whatever you want, whatever the photo inspires.  I’ll try to do something like this on a regular basis. 

Play along if you want and tag your post into the comments so I can read your words as well.

My own response is below.

…..

I was hopeful that the change was made before the wooden stairs fell apart.  Can you imagine?

Step, step, step, nothing.

You can’t see the mismatch from the top where we started. And there’s no warning (Watch your step.  Proceed with caution.  That last step is a doozy…) just the sudden jarring change from old to new.

Not that the newer one, the metal one, felt much safer.  The cliffs were crumbling before our eyes and the roar of the breakers, constantly churning the beach, filled our ears. 

In time, more of the stairs will fall.  It is inevitable. I hope nobody is on them when they do. Can you imagine?

Step, step, step, nothing…

lines from a song writing prompt 3

Below I’m posting a bit from a song I love and then I’ll write something around it (not necessarily in the context from the original source but maybe).  If the line grabs you, please steal it and play along too.  Post a link in the comments so I can check out what you did with it as well.

……….

“And the three men I admire most, the father, son and the holy ghost, they caught the last train for the coast.”

……….

The station was a mess.  People running every which way trying to catch their connections.  Late.  Everyone was always late.  Coming or going.  North or south.  It didn’t matter.  Trains always ran late and that meant everyone was always in a hurry when they finally made it to the station.

That was only part of the mess, though.  Others sat around, blocking the hallways and generally bottling up the whole works.  Tears in their eyes.  Down trodden and depressed, the moved slowly with lowered heads and slumped shoulders.  Sometimes they congregated together but most of the time they stayed as far apart as their was room for.

Those were the two general reactions people had when they’d heard the news.  They either raced about frantic or they stopped altogether and did nothing.  They couldn’t be blamed, of course.  Nothing like this had ever happened before.  Nothing like this would ever happen again.

I’m not sure why they chose me but when they called I answered  because I admired them so greatly and then dropped them off at the station.  I even walked them to their platform to make sure they got off okay.  I didn’t ask why they were going and they didn’t offer an explanation but off they went all the same, to the coast of all places.  Why not, I guess.  Perhaps things would be different there.

Here the music had died and life would never be beautiful again.

lines from songs writing prompt 2

Below I’m posting a bit from a song I love and then I’ll write something around it (not necessarily in the context from the original source but maybe).  If the line grabs you, please steal it and play along too.  Post a link in the comments so I can check out what you did with it as well.

……….

“The silent night is shattered by the sounds inside my mind.”

……….

She knew she was getting sicker.  Every day the volume of her life seemed a little higher and little more out of control.  She found herself seeking ways to mitigate the sound.

First she gave up listening to the radio in the car.  That allowed her to fight her way, with clenched teeth and hands at times, through the long hours of work before she once again could seek refuge in the car on the way home.  Then she convinced her boss that she needed to work from home to take care of her aging parents who, in truth, had died several years before.  Then she had begun to wrap everything in cloth because even the sound of clean pates being stacked together in the cupboard could bring her to tears.

No television.  No phone.  No social engagements.  No sound at all.  She even stopped talking to herself as she went about her daily chores.  Then she had to start seeping with ear plugs in because the sound of her breath rustling the sheets was like nails on a chalkboard.

Throughout this escalation she had known she was sick and getting sicker, she hadn’t wanted to admit it though.  And then it escalated so quickly at the end that she was too afraid to ask for help.  But then, she realized she had to seek help because her final refuge had been stolen from her.  She could her own thoughts.  They rang out like crashing bells on a clear morning, setting her teeth to chattering and jostling every last nerve.

She couldn’t handle a phone call so she sat down and began to slowly and carefully, mitigating the sounds of the keys clicking, type out an email to her doctor.

“I need help.  It is as though the sound of the world has all been aimed at me.  Everything slams against me louder and louder.  As i sit here and write this, the silent night is shattered by the sounds inside my mind.”

lines from songs writing prompt 1

Below I’m posting a bit from a song I love and then I’ll write something around it (not necessarily in the context from the original source but maybe).  If the line grabs you, please steal it and play along too.  Post a link in the comments so I can check out what you did with it as well.

……….

“… meet me in a dream of this hard land.”

……….

The sun set gray behind the ash rising on the horizon.  The fires had been burning in the west for longer than he could remember.  Some he met worried they would spread east but it had been years and he’d never seen a flame.

He watched the darkness spread towards the west and eventually overtake the gray.  There would be no stars.  The nightly winds brought clouds with them that sat low upon the ground.

As the stillness of the evening settled into his mind he threw his bedroll on the ground and prepared for sleep.  As always, his thoughts drifted to the friends, the brothers, he had left behind.  Some had gone to battle the raging fires.  Others had stopped traveling to try and build something, a life, a home, a family, here and there along the way.  He alone had kept on.

He missed them but he did not regret his choices.  His path was hard but so was theirs.  Life can kick and gnaw and grind a person down even when everything seems to be going their way.  He could not fight who he was.  They couldn’t fight who they were.  Trying to do so would have been folly.

A chilling breeze pushed down from the clouds and he curled further into his blankets.  It would rain later, he knew.  The ground would be colder and harder in the morning and yet he would wake and carry on.  That was what he knew how to do best.

Turning towards sleep, he yawned and murmured, his eyes already closed and his thoughts drifting back across the years to his brothers, “I’ll see you all again.  Until then, stay safe and meet me in a dream of this hard land.”

 

mile marker 14

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They sat on the outstretched branches and let their toes dangle in the water. That such a paradise could be hidden in plain sight, as it was, always surprised them but they didn’t lament the quiet, the solitude, the serenity. For those moments each day, when they slipped away from the world to lounge in their spot, everything else seemed to fade away. No cares. No concerns. No deadlines. Just the gentle lapping of the surf pressing up against the soles of their feet and the ocean breeze cooling their thoughts.