Wednesday, January 18, 2012
A promise
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| Ausable Chasm, NY |
I didn't make a resolution this year.
I'm not going to, either.
Rather, I've been focusing on living as I should, simply because I should.
As part of that focus, I've decided to write... and that's my promise to you.
From this Sunday until the end of the semester, I'm writing a 500 word (min.) essay every week. It will be for your eyes only (you faithful readers, you)...
And here's the best part:
You get to choose the topic!
Send me an email, post a comment on my most recent post, or message me on the big FB and I'll consider your choice. Topics that receive multiple nominations from different users receive higher priority, but please, nothing obscene.
My only caveat is that topic nominations are subject to my interpretations. Therefore, any topic might yield a piece of fiction or nonfiction, satirical or serious, dark or humorous, etc. For example, I offer you my first entry titled:
The Battle of the Boxes
They roll forward in waves of
thousands, wending their way through the seemingly endless landscape of steel
and concrete. For years we’ve fought off aimless bands of rogues, but somehow
this is different. Never have I seen so many of these forces amassed in one
place, gathered together for one purpose. The purpose to overwhelm us. Their
onslaught begins just before daybreak, but our floodlights dispose of any
element of surprise they might hope to gain.
From the start, they press in close
enough that their tawny, thick hide rasps against mine, adding a subtle hiss to
the clamor of the battle surrounding me. The rapid-fire clash of metal on metal
plays a staccato beat against my skull through a haze, while the sound of my
blade stabbing into my enemies presses into my consciousness .
The
glinting blade is short, but razor sharp; a weapon designed solely for the task
of slashing through thick, dry skin, only to be sheathed seconds later. I take
no prisoners, nor any unnecessary risks; only a battered and broken exoskeleton
is left when I’m done, their treasured innards lay cold and still in the harsh
light of the battlefield. I push them away rapidly, desiring only to rid my
nostrils of their pungent, sickly odor.
The
periodic lulls in the overwhelming onslaught last just long enough for us to
clear the spent figures from around us. At times, the inexorable forces knock
me back to a seated position where I battle to regain my position. Our chief of
command circles the battlefield, urging us onward. Though we feel doomed, we
plunge onward, heeding his commands.
The Jamaican woman beside me breaks
from her destructive task to mutter at the hopelessness of our fate. Though she
never told me of her purpose on the battlefield, I can only assume she’s
proficient with voodoo… It’s the only way to account for her presence here. Her
dark skin bulges at her arms and waist, while thick beads of sweat sprout
across her brow. She’s not accustomed to battle such as this, yet with her
unintelligible grunts and curses she devastates as money or more of the
opposing forces as I.
The great resounding alarm for
retreat has pealed out twice already. We fall back into rank, have whatever
repast we will, and attempt to bolster our morale for our next offense. The
last one sounded ages ago, and my arms and heart grow heavy with hopelessness.
As I stab and slash in a skirmish, my blade shatters against the dust covered
exoskeleton, and I only receive salvation through a passing officer who throws
me her own weapon.
As I stand over the last corpse of
the latest wave, the slightest hint of a smile begins to spread across my
sweat-drenched face. Between gasps of air, I realize none have come to replace
the now collapsed wave. We are free from oppression. A bugler raises the
victory cry as my heart soars with triumph.
We are victorious.
The topic for this piece was "Work" and is based on my recent stint as a temporary employee in a warehouse unwrapping goggle cases. I kept my sanity (questionable) by writing brief notes for this essay on my ipod during breaks. Facts were skewed and/or hyperbolized, but nothing could be considered blatantly untrue.
Hope you enjoyed, now what's my next topic?
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About Me
- Eric
- I am a freelance writer and photographer, collector of experiences, adventure lover, and outdoor goer.
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