This week’s #blogbattle word prompt is madness. This is run by Racheal Ritchey over on her blog Writing Rachael Ritchey. I encourage you to check out her blog, and this challenge.
1. 1000 words max
2. fictional tale (or true if you really want)
3. PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly! (this week will be difficult, I know. That’s a somewhat violent word! Remember, use your imagination. 🙂 )
4. Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
5. Go for the entertainment value!
6. Use the hashtag #BlogBattle, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this post, and/or include a link to this post in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
7. Have fun!
Here’s my entry for this week:
“This is madness,” Winter muttered.
“No. It’s to help you,” Layla countered. “Now sit down and calm down.”
Winter settled on the carpet beside Layla, her wings stilling. A little patch of ice formed under her. “See? What’s the point?” she said.
“I think that is the point.” Layla placed her hands on her knees. “Now, be quiet and copy me.”
Winter sighed, louder than she really needed to, but it seemed necessary to get across her ‘this is pointless’ point. Nevertheless, when Layla closed her eyes, she did too.
“Breathe in and out slowly,” Layla said, “try to calm your mind. Let the thoughts flow in and out. Be aware of each one, but don’t let them take hold of you. Think of a river. Let them flow like a river.”
Thoughts. Like a river. Flowing.
She shuffled a little.
She wondered what Layla was thinking about. If her eyes were still closed. If she was thinking abut Winter. Or about lunch. Or about the wind that was gusting at the window. She wondered if the Hollow was all right in the strong winds.
Was Nutkin all right?
Her thoughts were not river-like.
She opened her eyes, nose screwed up in frustration. “This isn’t working. What’s the point anyway?”
Layla opened her eyes. “Winter, you’ve got to give it chance.”
“Chance to do what?” She opened her wings and lifted off the ground, fluttering up to Layla’s face. “What’s the point?”
“The point is that you are controlling when you make ice, it doesn’t happen spontaneously. There must be some thought process, or feeling, in you when it happens. I want to help you to recognise whatever it is,and then when you know it, you can control it.”
“How do you know? Maybe it is happening on its own. I don’t feel like I’m controlling it.” She sank down, and landed on Layla’s knee.
“You’re not aware of breathing either, are you? But your mind is making a conscious effort to keep your lungs working. You can hold your breath when you want to, and control your breathing. So why can’t the same concept apply to your ice-creating power?”
That was a new way of looking at it. “You really think that?”
“I do. Now, shall we try again?”
Winter looked at the patch of ice beside Layla. “All right. I suppose anything’s worth a try.” She still didn’t see how making her thoughts like a river could alter anything, but she had to trust that Layla knew what she was doing. Besides, what did she have to lose?
She sat down, in a new spot, and closed her eyes.
Thoughts like a river. Like a river. Flowing in and out.