Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Crashing Clouds (8 Minute Writing Habit)

The Writing Prompt for today is:   Crashing Clouds
I have also decided I will do my best to include an image with each writing prompt. I am hoping this will help inspire you, and myself, on our quest to write a little each day. Please remember that your stories can be about anything and the writing prompt may be a title, a phrase in the story, or heck, not even used at all in the story. It is meant to serve as nothing more than an inspiration. 


Crashing Clouds

White.

God damn white everywhere. Enough to make a man go insane.

If there is one thing I've learned during my time here it is that I hate the color white. I've been in Antarctica for 137 days. For those of you keeping track at home, that is 17 days longer than the authorized amount. I planned to be at home 3 weeks ago with my young wife and our new son Michael.

Yet here I am. I'm laying in an open field with snow and ice in every direction as far as the eye can see. Events that I will not go into in here, an explosion and the ensuing fire destroyed our base camp at Maxwell Bay. I am the only survivor.

I get up and stretch, laying on the ice sheet has made my legs cramp up and I need to warm them up. I do stretches that I remember from my stint in the military a decade ago. Old, tired muscles eight and scream as I stretch and flex them. I jog in place a little to get my blood flowing.

I wonder what the Penguins are thinking. This must be quite a sight to see. A stranger to their land in the middle of a field doing a little bit of Zumba. I run in place long enough to get my blood flowing and my muscles warmed up. To feel a little bit more alive again.

After the fire I had set out for the closest base, a Norwegian base about a three day walk from our camp. I have been there once before when I first arrived in Antarctica. My recollection was a little foggy, but I have a general direction and I know approximately where the Norwegian base. This is not much but when you are the only person alive in 100 square miles, any little bit of s*** is good enough.

I force myself to start walking again. I must continue. I start my little routine. To keep myself motivated I am playing a mental game with myself. When my left foot strikes the ground I say my wife's name, Anne. When my right foot strikes the ground I save my son's name, Michael

Anne. Michael.

Anne. Michael.

Anne. Michael.

Anne. Michael.

Anne. Micha…

The snow and ice I'm stepping on gives way and I tumble down a steep curve and land with a harsh this on a sheet of ice. I fight to catch my breath again, my chest on fire. After a few blinks I try to move my legs, but they do not respond. I cannot feel anything below my waist.

Far above me ice can see the clouds crashing into the mountains. I know I've reached the end of my path.

I wait for the cold.
.   .   .


This story was written in about eight minutes and was inspired by the recent passing of British explorer Henry Worsley.
Word count: 485

About the 8 Minute Writing Prompt:
The 8MWH is a habit forming program where your aim is to simply write something for eight minutes straight each day, over time this will become a habit. The goal is to provide practice with writing and thus make you a better writer who can put words on paper easier. I plan on posting a short phrase and image each day in the morning and later that evening posting my story. Due to the time limit these will often be incomplete or possibly even suck. 
If you would like to join me, post wherever you like and add #8MWH to your post. Please remember that your stories can be about anything and the writing prompt may be a title, a phrase in the story, or heck, not even used at all in the story. It is meant to serve as nothing more than an inspiration.

No comments:

Post a Comment