Okay, everyone get out the party hats and the noisemakers, because it’s Friday! Whoo hoo! Fridays are excellent days because they are tending to be my day off, and it’s also the day I post a pretty picture and ask people to write crap about it. Also, there’s said to be a nice six-incher snow storm coming in later today, which, since I don’t work, is even better. It’s going to be an awesome, productive day, and I’m really looking forward to it. The main items on the agenda are to finish up the outline for the reboot of Serpent in a Cage and get the rough of the novella for Bowlful of Bunnies done. I’m also thinking I might finally be close to finishing a book, so keep your fingers crossed that I don’t get distracted by silly things like television and I’ll have a pretty sweet day on my hands.
Working in an outdoor mall in 10 degree weather for a company with a literal “open door” policy and a store with a broken heater really puts this whole “I want to be a writer” thing into perspective. This week has easily confirmed in my mind that if there’s a way to make some money from writing, I want to do it. But, like all things, work first, and I’ll also start babbling at you and get to the first picture that popped up on Five Minute Getaway today. The object of the game? Just write a blurb (in about five minutes or so) to go along with the picture. Share it either here or on your own blog, and just have fun and be inspired! Here’s today’s picture, followed by my contribution:
(picture credit to National Geographic Daily)
The gods were not pleased.
One could tell by the angry red tongue seeping out from the sacred mountain, gushing out and pushing slowly toward the village at the bottom of the hill. Even with the cold, clear night, the snow on the ground, one could feel the heat pushing off from the flow of lava as it crackled and burned and melted its way down. Watching the slow encroachment, Ana wanted to melt right into it herself, feeling a strange ache in her chest that nearly made her whimper. This was her fault; all her fault. She was supposed to give herself to the gods to satiate them, but she had tricked them instead, and now she intended to flee into the night and never return, leaving the village to suffer the consequences of her insubordination. Her eyes filling with tears, she moved to rush toward the flow; perhaps it wasn’t too late! But there was a hand on her arm, stopping her, and she turned with desperation toward the person who held her.
“Don’t,” Ashra said, shaking his head. “It’s too late now.”
So she melted instead into Ashra, into his firm chest and the strong arms that wrapped around her. It felt safe there, safe enough to cry, and she knew he would protect her. It had all been his idea, after all, so if he did not, well, then, he would have far more to fear than the wrath of the gods. He carefully drew her away out of the hug, looking deep into her eyes to bolster her before he took her hand and turned away from the sacred mountain with its angry tongue. “Come,” he said. “We had best be going now.”
There we go! If you whip something up, make sure to share it and I’ll try my best to go have a look! Happy Friday, everyone, and happy writing!