Today's Writing Prompt: Walk us through your very first memory. (500 words or fewer).
My memories elude me. They taunt me, tease me. They extend ghostly fingers dipped in ancient scents and sounds, and then just as I reach out to touch that one- it’s fuzzy like a blanket-, they pull back. I can almost see them grinning. There’s another one. It’s sweet, like a rhyme and a melody, a song. Oh mister ocean, oh mister sea...How does it go again? Sometimes if I close my eyes, I can feel them, my memories. Swirling around, enveloping me, and then blending into and disappearing into the air. If I stay still and quiet, I can hear that one, it’s warm like a term of endearment. Hey lovie. This one feels tingly, like laughter. That one feels cold and polished, like a doll. This one over here feels like velvet and lace, lipstick and blush. That one, like satin bed sheets. One feels warm and bright like sunshine, her. One feels mysterious and strong like the moon, him. Those taste of olives, those smell like biscuits baking. These over here are sharp and tender, best not to touch those. Best to just let those be. These over here smell like cookies, taste like pure sugar, and feel like the warmest warm. No, I have never been a warmer. But these over here feel like mud in your toes, smell like pine trees and melt when you squeeze them. Because they were never meant for holding onto. They were only meant for there and then. And then this one comes around again. I betcha, betcha, betcha that you can’t catch me... And then it blows past, never stopping, never slowing down. Just holding me, hanging around me, shaping me into this person that I am. This person, whoever that is.
My memories elude me. They taunt me, tease me. They extend ghostly fingers dipped in ancient scents and sounds, and then just as I reach out to touch that one- it’s fuzzy like a blanket-, they pull back. I can almost see them grinning. There’s another one. It’s sweet, like a rhyme and a melody, a song. Oh mister ocean, oh mister sea...How does it go again? Sometimes if I close my eyes, I can feel them, my memories. Swirling around, enveloping me, and then blending into and disappearing into the air. If I stay still and quiet, I can hear that one, it’s warm like a term of endearment. Hey lovie. This one feels tingly, like laughter. That one feels cold and polished, like a doll. This one over here feels like velvet and lace, lipstick and blush. That one, like satin bed sheets. One feels warm and bright like sunshine, her. One feels mysterious and strong like the moon, him. Those taste of olives, those smell like biscuits baking. These over here are sharp and tender, best not to touch those. Best to just let those be. These over here smell like cookies, taste like pure sugar, and feel like the warmest warm. No, I have never been a warmer. But these over here feel like mud in your toes, smell like pine trees and melt when you squeeze them. Because they were never meant for holding onto. They were only meant for there and then. And then this one comes around again. I betcha, betcha, betcha that you can’t catch me... And then it blows past, never stopping, never slowing down. Just holding me, hanging around me, shaping me into this person that I am. This person, whoever that is.
312 Words
May 29th, 2007
12:57 pm
NOLA
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