Melantha ground the herbs in her mortar, gently circling the pestle round and round, softly chanting. She added the herbs to boiling rainwater and when the full moon rose, set the potion to strain.
Why? Melantha wondered as she carried her cauldron into the town square. Why was she doing this? The townspeople hated and feared her for the strain of dark magic within her. Why save them? Because she was the only one who could. “As one can, one must,” she repeated her mantra quietly. She left the cauldron in the square and spirited away on noiseless feet.
Watching from the shadows, Melantha smiled to herself and the town folk gathered around the cauldron. There’s not much pride left to a drowning man, nor to a dying town. A young woman was the first to scoop of the deep green liquid and take a cautious sip, feeling no harm, she spooned the potion into her children. Melantha returned to her shack as silently as she had come, the strain of her solitude eased a bit by her own act of compassion.
For Stream of Consciousness Saturday on lindaghill.com – excuse me while I go pop some cinnamon rolls into the oven.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “dough/d’oh.” Use one, use both, use ’em any way you like. Enjoy!
She sat in grandmother’s kitchen, watching as the old woman kneaded the dough with strong sure hands. Breaking off bits to form into knots and braids. There are no words to describe the smell of an old time kitchen. The fermenting scent of yeast mingled with warmth from the old oven. Rich cinnamon and sweet vanilla consort with the tang of nutmeg and allspice and warm butter lays over it all with an emollient intoxication.Continue reading “Welcome Home – Stream of Consciousness Saturday”→
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “the last piece of mail you received.” Talk about the subject of the last piece of physical mail you received, i.e. a gas bill–talk about gas, not the bill itself. Have fun!
The last piece of mail I got was a 1099 for work I did. My subject is working as a spoonie.
Work and the Spoonie
One of the hardest parts of chronic illness, for me, has been the loss of meaningful work. For many years, I did not work to live, I lived to work. Then came the disease and the lung problems, the heart problems, the skin problems, and the back breaking, soul-crushing fatigue. I semi-retired at the age of 49. Continue reading “Work and the Spoonie – Stream of Consciousness”→
For lindaghill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday a bit of personal introspection because sometimes, in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives you a fairy tale.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “soul/sole.” Use one, use both, use ’em any way you like. Enjoy!
She had been single for a long time. Mostly by her own choice, but partly because she was “deep.” That’s what her friends told her, she was too deep for most men to really communicate with. Apparently what men wanted was a woman whose sole purpose in life was to look good and make them happy. That was not her way, not her concern. Shallow stupid men, “meatloafs” she called them. No brains, no heart, no soul. And so she stayed alone. She danced to her own music, sang her own songs. Her advice to the young women she befriended was always the same. “Don’t be afraid to walk alone,” she’d say “and don’t be afraid to like it.”
She promised herself that as long as she liked her own company best, that’s what she would have. Until one day, she met him. And her soul cried out “ah, there you are” and in spite of everything she found that she was not afraid to love again.
Note from the author ~ yes I DO know that not all men are shallow but this was stream of consciousness and I’m not allowed to edit for political correctness. The same scenario could apply to a man just as well as a woman. 😉
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “abash/a bash/bash.” Use “abash,” or “bash” as a noun or a verb. Bonus points if you manage all three. Have fun!
Much Abashed about a Bash
Helena was much abashed when she arrived at the party wearing the same frock she’d worn just weeks ago. But with the servants gone, what else was she to do? She’d thought to take a bash at dressing herself for the evening gala and felt she’s done fairly well. Her gown was not new, but she’s done her hair up in a fashionable twist with tiny ringlets falling to her shoulders. The hair style was simple with her naturally curly hair and she’d further adorned it with her mother’s silver combs. The double strand of pearls around her neck had also belonged to her mother. Helena fondled them for a moment in quiet contemplation. Oh how could her parents have had the bad taste to be murdered and left her all alone. There was nothing for it, this party was her meal ticket. Many favors were owed her family and she intended to collect. Plus, it was the poshest bash of the season and the food was bound to be good. Helena’s tummy rumbled silently as she stepped across the threshold and presented her invitation.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “cele-.” Find a word that starts with or contains “cele” and use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!
Today the weather is spring-like. Raining and cloudy one moment punctuated by glorious bright blue skies and sunshine, only to disappear beneath the next wave of clouds. Is this cause for celebration? You bettcha! Some years ago, I came upon a profound truth that we hold our lives in a kind of limbo, waiting for the celebration. We save the pretty china for company, we rarely dress up or we make ourselves just presentable when we’re home alone (and sometimes not even that). We go about in a state of anticipation, waiting, always waiting.Continue reading “Celebrate Life – Stream of Consciousness Saturday”→
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “yawn.” Write about the first thing that comes to mind when you think of the word “yawn,” when you sit down to write your post. Enjoy!
Yawn. Yawn, stretch, yawn. Slap cheezits out of alarm clock when it revives from it’s snooze. Sit up on the edge of the bed, stretch waaaaay up high, yawn. Think about pulling covers over head, yawn. Sniff, sniff, ummmmmm, coffee brewing. Cast off covers and shuffle into the kitchen. Perfectly brewed cup of morning magic is thrust into my eager hands. I lift the cup to my face and inhale deeply, ahhhhh. Java, nectar of the gods. I take that first sip and feel the warmth begin to thaw my sleep frozen brain. The second sip starts the heart pumping, within a few minutes I’m ready to hit the yoga mat. Standing in tadasana, I stretch up, up, up and … yawn.