Thank you Sue Vincent for the photo this week and the opportunity. Press here To join in this weeks prompt. #WritePhoto
Bleak, some say this view is bleak, the empty to me isn’t empty. The sky speaks of things to come and hints at things just past. I gaze thoughtfully while digging deeper into my pockets dipping my chin so the zipper scratches my nose. My quiet contemplating place; perched on crag like a bird with its feathers ruffled. Hair whips my cheeks and stiffens in the biting wind. My eyes struggle to see as far as I want them to. But here, the whoosh of the sea, the lapping of water against rock and the voices on the wind … comfort me.
Hours pass with me inside my head, the imagery sharp as Italic ink on paper. The sky darkens, reflections flicker, horses lick, their white manes they flash and curl atop the surf and I am reminded of where I am. Cleansed and at peace I raise myself, soles firmly grip into roughness of rock, gouging in to keep me from slipping as I head back.
At first barely a glimmer of light shines from the tiny house creeping between badly pulled curtains. The rusted swing squeaks in the wind; the taste of salt lingers. I open the oak door, stamp my shoes on the coconut matting and strip off the sodden outer layer. His head lifts and kind eyes take me in, his book thumps closed as he makes way for me to join him. Tom pats the cushion next the fire on the double club chair. “Come, let’s get you warm,” his eyes crinkle as they do when he looks into mine. “You look rested now, how anyone comes back from such a bleak unforgiving spot looking as you do … I will never know.” Tom rubbed my feet between his hands twisted a strand of salt encrusted hair behind my ear and said … ” I love you Eve.”
With all my worries blown into perspective, I inhale the stew I have cooking on the stove, the bread Tom has put to warm. “Shall we eat, then I will tell you a new fireside story, one brought to me on a gust of wind.” I say. We clatter to the table amidst the spitting of logs laughing at the days turn of events. Knowing tomorrow my bleak will refresh me once more.
Do you have a place? I would love to know, leave me yours in the comments.
I think my favorite place to lose myself is looking up at leaves blowing. Could be anywhere, but watching the negative space, the place between the leaves as they bob and weave in the wind, calms me and leaves me open to inspiration.
A lovely bit of writing, Ellen.
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Thank you very nice of you to comment. There is something about the inbetween.
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Wow Ellen! Love it 💗💗
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Thank you.
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Lovely writing. I love anywhere by the sea. Blows the cobwebs out my head. Troon beach is a particular favourite and is just 30 minutes from my home. Thanks
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Lucky you a beautiful part of the world.
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Nice. I liked this. I feel like I want to visit this spot or a “spot” where I come back feeling refreshed.
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The trick is to be alone with your thoughts and Nature. Although this is a story, i have always taken myself off alone. Thanks for your comments
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Only in my dreams.
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Thank you for reading. your dreams are also a place for inspiration.
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Thank you Sue.
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I really enjoyed this, Ellen. I don’t have a place I go to but I do get up very early so I can have some quite time to write and do my own things.
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Thank you for reading and commenting, i am an early writer too and sometimes that place is a time alone.
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This is lovely, Ellen. I am so glad you felt well enough to write.
Many people think ‘my’ moors are bleak too, but to me they are always a place of beauty, safety and healing. x
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It is something I’ve always had. A secret place that many would find bleak. X
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We find beauty where it touches out own heart x
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