Hey, I found a writing exercise.
Apr. 21st, 2004 08:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cpolkToday's Writing Prompt, at FictionAddiction.net:
Halian was staring out the window again; one hand on the cords that held the blinds up, his posture half bent. Tanya supposed he'd spotted a bird in the swaying arms and snowfall of petals from the cherry tree, and willed herself to look at what he was looking at, and not at him.
Not at him, dressed in the green and gold athletic pants of her old university. Not at him, barefoot, and shirtless to display a many-petaled blossom like a lotus, or a sun, carved over his chest. Not at him, or the curling vine scars that radiated from the sun to his shoulders, down arms extravagant with planes and contours.
"Do you see it?" he whispered, as if the bird might hear him and fly away. A soft bown cap, white face, and black throat; it opened its short bill and called tsik-a-dee-dee! Petals burst out and fell to the golden dead grass as he flew the short distance to the spruce in the corner of the yard.
"Yes," Tanya whispered back. "It's a chickadee."
Halian turned his face toward her and grinned. The sunrise turned his eyes silver, bright as new dimes. Knowing what it was--Tapetum lucidum, her trivia motor supplied-- didn't keep it from startling her each time she saw it. "What do you call it at--work?"
"Poecile hudsonica," she said, and backed up, reaching for the edge of the counter. "Do you want juice?"
"I would like more coffee," he said, his nod deliberate and freshly learned. "I liked the coffee."
"Maybe that's not such a hot idea." Tanya turned around, away from his silver to lichen gaze. "You and coffee is a rollercoaster ride I'm not sure I can handle."
Halian let one bare foot scuff over the wide maple boards of the floor. "Rollercoaster?"
Tanya shoved the cupboard door closed and winced as the glasses inside rattled. "Oh, um... you remember the trains?"
"The boxes that ran on metal strips." he didn't move as Tanya edged around him to the fridge, tall glass in hand.
"Right. A rollercoaster runs on metal strips, but the track--is hilly. It rises upward, and then drops. it's very fast, and you can feel like you're falling. People do it for fun."
"They fall? For fun?" He stepped back enough to let her pour juice into a glass, put one hand out to accept it from her.
"It's not really falling," Tanya said. "It's on the track the whole time. It's safe." Mostly.
"But if rollercoasters are fun," Halian asked, closing in on her, "why can I not have any coffee?"
Halian was staring out the window again; one hand on the cords that held the blinds up, his posture half bent. Tanya supposed he'd spotted a bird in the swaying arms and snowfall of petals from the cherry tree, and willed herself to look at what he was looking at, and not at him.
Not at him, dressed in the green and gold athletic pants of her old university. Not at him, barefoot, and shirtless to display a many-petaled blossom like a lotus, or a sun, carved over his chest. Not at him, or the curling vine scars that radiated from the sun to his shoulders, down arms extravagant with planes and contours.
"Do you see it?" he whispered, as if the bird might hear him and fly away. A soft bown cap, white face, and black throat; it opened its short bill and called tsik-a-dee-dee! Petals burst out and fell to the golden dead grass as he flew the short distance to the spruce in the corner of the yard.
"Yes," Tanya whispered back. "It's a chickadee."
Halian turned his face toward her and grinned. The sunrise turned his eyes silver, bright as new dimes. Knowing what it was--Tapetum lucidum, her trivia motor supplied-- didn't keep it from startling her each time she saw it. "What do you call it at--work?"
"Poecile hudsonica," she said, and backed up, reaching for the edge of the counter. "Do you want juice?"
"I would like more coffee," he said, his nod deliberate and freshly learned. "I liked the coffee."
"Maybe that's not such a hot idea." Tanya turned around, away from his silver to lichen gaze. "You and coffee is a rollercoaster ride I'm not sure I can handle."
Halian let one bare foot scuff over the wide maple boards of the floor. "Rollercoaster?"
Tanya shoved the cupboard door closed and winced as the glasses inside rattled. "Oh, um... you remember the trains?"
"The boxes that ran on metal strips." he didn't move as Tanya edged around him to the fridge, tall glass in hand.
"Right. A rollercoaster runs on metal strips, but the track--is hilly. It rises upward, and then drops. it's very fast, and you can feel like you're falling. People do it for fun."
"They fall? For fun?" He stepped back enough to let her pour juice into a glass, put one hand out to accept it from her.
"It's not really falling," Tanya said. "It's on the track the whole time. It's safe." Mostly.
"But if rollercoasters are fun," Halian asked, closing in on her, "why can I not have any coffee?"
