Reena’s Exploration Challenge – 81 4-9-2019

It is time to peep into your creative processes once again. Welcome to Week 81!

PROMPT

This video inspired me. Maybe you like to see it or use it as a creative nudge.

https://aeon.co/videos/then-fit-our-vision-to-the-dark-exploring-sight-with-emily-dickinson


We grow accustomed to Darkness. Darkness is in our hearts. Our minds. Our souls. Anybody who has not been tempted by Darkness is a liar.

Some of us grow up in darkness. Some of us grow up in Light, finding Darkness when we realize Light is not all there is in this world. This is the Darkness which crushes the soul, destroys the spirit, leaving nothing behind but despair.

Some of us live in Darkness all our lives, never finding the path out. Never seeing even a spark of Light, our eyes so blinded by Dark.

Some of us are created of Darkness, some of us of Light. But it is the Darkness which finds us in our hours of despair, when the pain is so all-encompassing we no longer believe in Light. Some of us never escape the Darkness and drown.

Some of us…. all of us…. grow accustomed to Darkness.

Response – Reenas Exploration Challenge 80 3-29-2019

Reena’s Exploration Challenge 

Without much ado, I present this week’s challenge, as posting has already been delayed a little.

PROMPT #80

Exploration Challenge #80

It ain’t easy.  That much is for sure.  Been a long time since I killed anything but back in the day….. yeah…. back in the day…..” It came for me when I was 15.  Thought I was tough then, I did.  Big swagger as I walked down the street.   Tough words.  Angry words.  Ugly words.  Funny how when you’re young you think those things make you tough.  Don’t take me wrong.  I was a scraper. I’d been in any number of street fights.  All my life.  Thought that made me tough, too. How little I knew.

It came on a Monday.  I was home.  Had to be.  My little sister was there.  Didn’t like to leave her alone at night.  Not if I could help it.  We had day-old hot dogs for dinner.  A dented can of baked beans.  Marshmallow fluff.

Lived in a series of rooms. Used to be offices when the building was a warehouse. One central room with a hot plate, couple broke-back chairs. A table. A radio. Another room with two mattresses on the floor. A bathroom that worked. Barely. But enough for water to clean and cook. I’d installed locks on the doors. Kept us safe so far. Then again, I wasn’t asleep yet.

Been years now. Too many. Never did find my little sister. I looked for her sometimes. All the times. That face in the crowd. A voice across a street. A dream of before I’d become a monster. But now… now I am old. Haven’t killed in years.

Weren’t killing that’d made me a monster. No. Abandoning her did. Ran when the Government people finally tracked us down. Gonna take us into the system. Foster homes. Schools. The ‘right’ life. Couldn’t take that. And so I ran.

She screamed. Begged. Tears. Never did forget that. Never did forget the sound of tears. Sound rang in my ears the rest of my days. Still there now. But it’s gonna be gone soon.

Soon. Another breath. Two. Another tear. I’ll no longer be a monster.

Reenas Exploration Challenge 80 3-29-2019

Reena’s Exploration Challenge 

Without much ado, I present this week’s challenge, as posting has already been delayed a little.

PROMPT #80

Exploration Challenge #80

FOR THE NEW ENTRANTS

There is no restriction on the length or format of the piece. Write a post on your blog, and link it up here with a pingback, or copy-paste the blog link in Comments.

I eagerly await your responses.

LAST WEEK’S ROUND UP

Susi Bocks at

Jade Li at

Michael at

Sadje at

Eugenia at

Len at

https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/lensdiary.blog/852

Michael at

Helene Vaillant at

Teresa at

Reenas Exploration Challenge Posted 3-21-2019

Welcome to a colourful week!

Different versions of the Spring Festival are celebrated across the world. Here, we celebrate Holi, a festival of colors. The image below gives an idea of how the festival is celebrated.

Holi-festival of colors

So, here goes the theme for this week’s prompt. Use one or more of the words given in the prompt, and weave into a composition of your choice. It is not necessary that the spirit be cheerful or seasonal or festive. Go with whatever the word/s spark in your mind.

Words: Color, Chroma, Pigment, Hue, Stain, Tinge

Reena’s Exploration Challenge #79

FOR THE NEW ENTRANTS

There is no restriction on the length or format of the piece. Write a post on your blog, and link it up here with a pingback, or copy-paste the blog link in Comments.

I eagerly await your responses.

Reenas Exploration Challenge

LAST WEEK’S ROUND UP

Teresa at

Eugenia  at

The Dark Netizen as

https://thedarknetizen.wordpress.com/2019/03/15/flash-fiction-purpose/

Michael at

msjadeli at

Sadje at

Len at

https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/lensdiary.blog/804

hecblogger (Amit Agrawal) at

Bladud Fleas at

https://moonisrising.wordpress.com/2019/03/17/the-scarecrows-reasoning/

athling2001 at

https://athling2001.wordpress.com/2019/03/17/reenas-exploration-challenge-78-3-17-2019/

VJ Knutson at

Reena Saxena at

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2019/03/18/unusual-leaf/

Indira at

https://amaltaas.wordpress.com/2019/03/20/reenas-exploration-challenge-78/

Reena’s Exploration Challenge – 78 3-17-2019

Today, we have a paragraph as a prompt. Do whatever you can with it. Reflect on it, twist it, break it into pieces and use a phrase or just write if you agree/disagree or whatever you think about it. As usual, there are no restrictions on length or format. Suit yourself.

PROMPT

“That proves you are unusual,” returned the Scarecrow; “and I am convinced that the only people worthy of consideration in this world are the unusual ones. For the common folks are like the leaves of a tree, and live and die unnoticed.”
― L. Frank Baum, The Land of Oz

“Leaves of a tree, my butt,” grumbled the Flying Monkey perched in the tree. “Ill show him leaves on a tree.” But he wouldn’t. He was, after all, a kind Flying Monkey and not a bit of the meanness in him that consumed his brethren.
Still, he hated to be called a leaf as if he were no more than one Flying Monkey among a thousand Flying Monkeys. And he  hated, hated, hated, being called common. Hadn’t he left the Witch’s Castle and set out on his own, searching for a kinder, gentler, place among the vastness of Oz?
No, he was a failure of a Flying Monkey; hadn’t he been told that all his life? Hadn’t the others mocked him and laughed at him as he helped earthworms across the Yellow Brick Road and rescued ladybugs from the dank of the Witch’s Castle?
Dorothy had been a single girl out of thousands. Toto a single dog out of thousands. The Scarecrow a single scarecrow out of however many scarecrows might be around; the Tin Man the single out of the world of Tin Men. And the Cowardly Lion. How many lions were there in Oz? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions? And yet, he was the only one of them who was scared and kind.
Was he maybe the Cowardly Lion of Flying Monkeys? Was he one of a thousand Flying Monkeys who wanted to be kind to those around him? Did that make him common? A leaf on a tree who would live and die unnoticed?
Could he be instead the catalyst of change among the Flying Monkeys? Could he be that one unusual Flying Monkey in a thousand who didn’t die unnoticed? Could he be a hero?
Spreading his monkey wings, he flapped from the tree, racing after the unusual band.