writing prompt

I am David.

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The Philistines are upon me.  A great army across the valley taunting and tormenting my peaceful village.  I am afraid.   They are big, they are evil, and they want our peace of mind.  Our happy spirits.  They want to trample us in the mud and take our lives. To leave us as carrion on the valley floor.

Photo by Jianxiang Wu on Unsplash

Oh where is my David?  Where is the sling and the five smooth stones?  I need to triumph over the Philistines coming for me. Coming for us.

Their largest, Goliath, heaps insult upon me.  His very presence is a storm cloud over me and my heart is heavy, my mind churning, and my body trembling.  He can do so much damage to me and mine. 

Deliver me from this Philistine.

Oh, Lord, hear my prayer.

I drop to my knees and see that the daffodils have buds.  The wheel in the sky is turning.  Spring comes.  I feel hope in my chest flutter like an awakening bird. Not the peaceful dove, but the avenging hawk.

There is no David.  There is no sling.  There are no five smooth stones.  There is just me and my travails.  Just me and my scant courage. Oh Lord hear my prayer and give me the strength of the daffodils.

The strength to emerge victorious in frightening conditions.  The strength to outlast adversity.  The strength to blossom in deep snow.  Do not let this be a false spring. 

Bring me the peace of knowing that I am enough.  That I can lead a victorious life.  One that is free of the Philistines that would steal my tranquility and ravage my happy home.

If David can be unafraid and face the threat in the knowledge that he is enough, I can too. 

I am David.

Goliath will not be my nemesis.  I alone can defeat the peril with the sweet spirit of a shepherd protecting what they have been charged to watch over. 

Oh Lord, hear my prayer. Shepherd me through this perilous time.

I wish this wasn’t fiction.

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Marjorie sat on her sofa in the room with blue walls and stared at them. She loved this room, and she loved her house, but on this particular day, she was at loose ends and restless. She picked up things from the coffee table one by one. The teal candle holder with the tea candle. The pottery bowl her stepdaughter had made. Her meditation beads.

Photo by Keszthelyi Timi on Unsplash

She thought about meditating. Her brain was so noisy today that she knew it would be futile. All the more reason to try, but she set them down too. She spied the small antique globe and picked it up. Spinning it, she daydreamed about taking a trip.

“Why not? She asked the cat. “Why the hell not? I have vacation days and I have a hefty tax return on the way. I like traveling alone. I can do this.” The cat didn’t reply.

She gave the globe a mighty spin, closed her eyes, and touched her finger. . .

To Hungary.

“Hot damn, I’ll go to Budapest. I have always wanted to go. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site.” She danced around the living room and imagined the adventure she would have. Maybe she could fly into another city and take the train or river cruise into Budapest. That seemed in keeping with the ancient city.

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The Girl on the Train

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Traveling with Elise was a trip.  People stared. And then they pointed. And then they chuckled. The more you watched, the more you saw that was just a little bit off center. Or a lot.

Image “Anywhere” by Haylee Morice at hayleemorice.com

For instance, who travels with potted plants and decorates their train seat with twinkle lights? Feeds their cat cake with a bowl of cream, of course?

Now many people wear their slippers on the train, I know I do. But their jammies and comfy sweater four sizes too big? 

Elise was born eccentric. It wasn’t something she became, and it wasn’t something she grew out of. It was her core personality. Part of it was based on her desire to be comfortable and part of it was based on her personal ideology that home was wherever she was.

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