seanessay.com (1,000 words)
Falling down the rabbit hole, writing on Free Fall Friday.
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Here’s something cheerful to me—because it’s worse than Covid…
prompt- We sat around and talked about symptoms.
We who survived the plagues had lots of little symptoms, but—We weren’t dead! Life puts things into perspective. Help yourself to clothes and cars and even jewelry—although somehow, that last was thought to be crass—help yourself, and who cared? Not the living.
Status was meaningless now, at least, status from stuff. Now what counted was: Who counts on you? If you had to dig a hole who would help? If you gave a tea party to talk about, say, symptoms, who would come?
The only crime now was inhospitality.
And status now came from being a good host, and a good person. Could I laugh with you? Cry with you? I remember having a wet shoulder once: I hadn’t even known my neighbour was crying. So we helped each other, and worked hard, and kept the economy going, and spent a good chunk of our GDP on exports to bring in the ABCs: Alcohol, Benadryl and Cocaine. And life went on.
…
Here’s to the joy of travel, after Covid
prompt- soup
“Geez it’s hot!”
I just looked at my husband.
“And that white sand, it just bounces back the suns rays, something awful!”
I started making crying motions with both fists under my eyes, but he didn’t notice.
“And the music,” he continued “I just want some old fashioned rock and roll.”
I gave him by hush look, and pointed at the far away young man in dreadlocks playing tropical music. He had a wooden box with bent nails that sounded like, like—“Now I know where that plinky tropical music sound comes from; I think it’s kinda neat.” We were on beach chairs in Barbados, hence the extremely white sand.
We’ve been married fifteen years, it was easy to put my foot down without moving a toe. “Eddy!” I said firmly, “don’t you dare let any young men hear you, (and here I had to draw out the word) dispa-aaa-araging their music.”
Eddy sighed. “Dispa-aaa-araging. I guess you are really into relaxing.”
“Yes. Isn’t this fun? Did you ever think you would see sand this white?”
“No. It can’t be real. I think they truck it in from Disney World. Secretly. At night.”
The waves surged and we both sighed.
Eddy said, “As a flight steward I always flew high above the waves. Now I’m actually here. Where ever here is, on this trackless ocean…Say, wouldn’t you rather go to Scotland, and see your sister?”
“No, my sister can meet us here. It’s hard to see her when Scottish rain is on my glasses, and Scottish mist, and Scottish fog, and ummm, just smell that hot surf.”
“And another thing. It’s too dry here. Where’s the mist?”
“It could be worse,” I muttered, “at least there’s no bagpipes.”
“And where,” he said, “is the hot soup? Salty hot soup?”
“The salt is all around us. I know how to cheer you up. Let’s send my sister a post card: Wish you were here. Having a miserable time. No bagpipes.”
Eddy laughed, “A miserable time!” And my husband laughed and laughed.
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Forgetting Covid—Here’s to the joy of storytelling
prompt–it said don’t walk
Mindy was a girl who didn’t wear dresses, only pants. She was kind of around early elementary school age, but I forget just what year. She liked to wear two barrettes in her hair of fuzzy green caterpillars. She told me they were magic, so she always had to wear them, to have magical adventures. Here is a story about her, since I know her so well.
So there was Mindy, tripping through the forest. She didn’t trip over any roots, not her, for Mindy was very sure footed. But not skilled at skipping ropes. One day she was skipping through the forest—but not with any rope, she was only carrying her rope, around her waist. She was moving through the forest so happily that her eyes were half closed with the sheer pleasure of a wonderful day in the forest. She even said out loud, “This is just a sugary day for a walk in the forest” when suddenly something answered her. Something not human, but with a voice like an Englishman.
“You can walk,” answered the voice “But it says don’t walk.”
Mindy opened her eyes very wide. She moved her head right around 180 degrees. “I don’t see anything human.” She turned around and looked the other 180 degrees. “I don’t see anyone sounding English.”
“Well, I can see you,” said the old voice. And so Mindy turned around again. And there by the side of trail, down low, looking grey and green and brown, with a pointed tail, a snout and big ears, in size between a very small cow and a very large dog, was a dragon.
“You have to be a dragon” said Mindy, impressed.
“Yes” said the dragon, sounding not very impressed that Mindy could tell what he was, and not too excited at all. “Of course. Yes, I’m a dragon.
Mindy said, “I’m excited to meet a dragon…You’re my first one… What do you mean, it says don’t walk?”
The dragon lifted a paw “My, what big talons” thought Mindy to herself, but she was too polite to say it out loud or interrupt.
“The little sign is over there. If you had paid attention you would have observed. It says don’t walk.”
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Sean Crawford
Note: To join Free Fall writing on zoom, regardless of where you are, at 10 to noon, Mountain Standard Time, Fridays, contact the Alexandra Writers Centre Society. https://www.alexandrawriters.org/contact-us/
