Monday, 19 January 2015

Prompt #1 - The Sun

I'm going to start a new series on this blog because, for a blog that's supposed to be about writing, not much actual writing goes on.

I've gotten myself a little tub, and put some slips of paper with prompts on it into said jar. When I can't think of a blog post to write, I'm going to do one of the prompts. This is the first one.

Prompt: Write about the sun as you love it, then as you hate it.

From the moment I wake up I'm bathed in the glorious glow. I lay there for a while, basking like a cat and watching the flecks of dust dancing as they rise and fall through the air. I always wake with the sun. It's not a choice, or a requirement, it just sort of... happens. Not wanting to waste any more of the daylight I dress quickly in shorts and a tank top and grab my iPod from the dock in the kitchen. For the next three hours I walk with no real direction or purpose, I just want to be outdoors. The sun kisses my skin with her delicate touch. I make my way into town and buy a bacon and egg baguette and a bottle of water. I take up my usual perch on the green in front of the Town Hall. Under the dome of almost perfect of blue, disturbed infrequently by streaks of white, I eat my sandwich. I stay there for a while more, listening to music and watching the people go about their business, sharing in the delights of the suns goodness. I lie back and stare up through the summer leaves at the sky. The sun shines through, directly down,  leaving a dappled display of light and shadow over my body. I buy a paper from the vendor and read it cover to cover until the unwelcome chill of a disappearing day washes over me. With a sigh, I return home and watch from the window, bidding the sun farewell as she dips below the horizon.

From the moment I wake I can feel its hateful heat. The brightness stings my eyes as I slowly open them against the glare. Every morning it's the same horror that shines through my window. No matter how hard I try to shield it with blinds and curtains, the monster manages to find each crack and crevice to creep through. I know with dreaded certainty that within the next hour the apartment will be unbearably hot if I don't open the window. But with that comes further unnecessary exposure to the giant fireball in the sky. I choose my spot carefully and thrust my hands through the gap in the curtain, forcing my way through the Venetian slats. My skin burns from the moment that I'm exposed. I make short work of the window latch, push the pane open and retreat into the safety of the shielded room. If I'm thankful for one thing, it is that in a few hours, it will be gone taking with it that vile dome of unnatural blue that seems to follow it wherever it goes. I'm told that it didn't used to be this bad, the sun could actually be something that was enjoyed. But that was before the war, and the bombs, and the burning. We used to be shielded from it by something called the ozone layer. It's gone now. Has been for decades. Everything dies now, sooner rather than later. The only water we have left is underground and it won't last more than a few generations. Everything is so dry, burnt to a crisp by the merciless orb in the sky. Mother Nature is taking her revenge on us for destroying her planet and she's hired the sun to be her hit man. She couldn't have chosen a better champion. We won't outlast this century.

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