Cling. Murmur. Taken. – Writing prompt
My hope to dive into tackling some writing prompts has already slid one day….my Wednesday got away from me before I could do more than look at the words for Three Word Wednesday. But, BUT! Here I am…
I’ve decided today to do something a little different than I would normally for something like this. Because my hope is to use these prompts to “prime the pump”, so to speak so, for work on larger, existing projects, I’m setting a ten minute timer and am going to just write in a sort of stream of conscious sort of way. I will also stop when the time goes off and resist the urge to edit, other than for spelling errors.
So. Here goes.
~ Cling ~ Murmur ~ Taken ~
Spiderwebs. With starling wings murmuring above Vivian cursed at the cling of webs along her arms and in her hair. “I hate spiders,” she spat, swatting, again, at a low branch and the swath of sticky silk waiting to catch her. Somewhere the edge of the lake beckoned, waves licking rocks smooth and shiny.
Coming out to see the murmuration had been Richard’s idea. Why Vivian clung to it she didn’t want to consider. She stumbled over a root and caught herself against a tree, gulping against a sob. No. She wouldn’t. The sound above, far and not, was that of feathers and air and tiny bodies moving in a concerted disconcerting way.
Richard’s idea. His. Not that he had ever taken the time to bring her here to this lake to watch the spectacle. And now he was gone, off somewhere with some young, slender, fickle thing. Vivian waved her hand, again, at a drape of ethereal artistry, this time with less energy, her anger leeching away. Purple light reached through the leaves, the lap of waves on the shore guided her the last few steps.
She sat on a bleached, beached log, tucked her hair behind her ear. Hair that matched the log and the webs that stuck to it and her clothes and her fingers. Her eyes might still be sharp and bright green but everything else about her had faded. A wave of sound pushed at her back. She tilted her head back and her heart twisted in her chest as a wave of undulating black poured over the trees and out over the lake. Starlings. Countless small birds creating one huge mass. All of them moving and moving on.
and that’s time…Hm…not so stream of conscious as I expected! It’s always interesting what stories emerge when you don’t give yourself time to overthink a topic!