Make it short

Have you tried this writing exercise yet? If not, feel free to give it a go. I promise it will surprise you :-).

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to Heal” for this writing prompt: 

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa, etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

“Make it short,”

she said.

And I sew it into pieces. But that wasn’t right either!

image of fig tree in desert landscape

The Fig Tree

A few years ago I was using a writing prompt for creative writing. I feel it’s time to resurrect it. I wrote this story several years ago.

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to heal” for this writing prompt: 

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

This is what the storyteller is telling me today:

Today I guide you to a far-away land where a girl patiently waited for her mother to come home. She had gone to get water from the well a little away, but today she needed much longer than usual.

The girl was afraid as her father had died a few months ago. They were living on a little farmstead away from the hustle and bustle of the city that ruled over the land. The girl desperately wished for her mother to come home and make breakfast. But mother would not come.

image of fig tree in desert landscape
Image by Ben Kerckx from Pixabay

“Oh, what shall I do?” the girl asked the lonely fig tree they were nurturing carefully, giving it water every day. The little family’s farmstead was situated right in the middle of an approaching desert, and their only income was this fig tree and the goats which roamed the landscape for food. It was the girl’s task every evening to go and fetch the goats and bring them home to stay the night in the little barn her father had build.

The fig tree rustled its leaves and played with its fruit. After a little while, it whispered:” Give me some water, little one”. The girl who had waited under the tree for her mother looked up. “But I only have a little left and mother has not come home yet. I won’t have anything left if I give it to you and she won’t come back.” The fig tree considered this for a little while and then whispered again:” Give me some water, little one.”

The girl looked out over the deserted plain towards the city, which already gleamed in the morning sun. She turned her head a little and looked towards the oasis where her mother had gone to get water. The rocks strewn all over the plain shivered in the heat, and she could see a little point quivering in between.

“I have asked the fig tree for advice. It gave it to me, so I better follow it” the girl thought and went into the house to get the last drops of water in the jug. She carefully carried it outside the door and to the right where the fig tree grew on the wall. She gently poured out the last drops of water on the roots of the fig tree. “Thank you little one” the fig tree whispered.

fig tree leaves in front of blue sky
Image by Antal Bódi from Pixabay

The girl took the jug back into the kitchen and looked around. There were bread and butter and honey but nothing to drink left. “Oh, what shall I do?” she wondered again. But as she did not find an answer, she went back to sit under the fig tree.

The girl gazed over the plain, which quivered with heat. Her mother should be nearby now, but she wasn’t to be seen anywhere. The point the girl had seen before still was out there somewhere.

“Go and prepare some bread with butter and honey” the fig tree whispered suddenly. The girl looked up into the profoundly green leaves and saw the fig trees not yet ripe fruit dance. “I haven’t been taught how to prepare bread yet,” she said.

“Go and prepare some bread with butter and honey” the fig tree simply answered. “Oh, I am doomed!” the girl thought, but she got up and got back into their hut. “What if I drop the honey or butter? What if I cut the bread too thick or even cut myself?” the girl worried.

She stood in front of the table where bread, butter and honey waited. She stood and waited. But her mother did not come. “I have asked the fig tree for advice.” she thought. “It has given me more advice, so I better follow it.” She, therefore, went to the table, took the knife and cut three even pieces of bread. She laid them out on the big plate they only used for celebrations. Then she carefully spread some butter on them all and trickled some honey on each of them. She covered the plate carefully with a huge bowl to keep away the insects.

fig tree branches
Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

But all this new work has made her thirsty. “Oh, I wish I would not have given the last drops of water to the fig tree.” She thought. “What shall I do?” But this time she did not wait for the fig tree to give advice. She went outside and caught one of her goats. It was the biggest one which gave the sweetest milk. So she took her back to the shed where the goats slept at night. She went back into the house and got the wonderfully decorated jug they only used for special occasions. Then she milked the goat and the sweetest milk the goat had ever given poured into the jug.

The girl was happy. “Mother will be pleased when she comes home and sees such a beautiful breakfast.” she thought when she took the jug back onto the table. She covered it carefully with a cloth to keep the insects away.

She went back outside to sit under the fig tree again. It rustled with its leaves gently and whispered:” Well done little one. See over there……” and one of its branches pointed towards the oasis where the girl could now see a camel approach with two women sitting on it.

“Oh dear,” the girl thought “strangers! And mother is not here! What shall I do?” She leaned a little closer to the fig tree to hide under its leaves. She watched the camel approach.

Camel and rider in desert
Image by Simon Matzinger from Pixabay

But the two women on the camel were not strangers. They were her mother and grandmother. How happy was the girl to see her family approach? She ran towards them and cried:” Oh, mother! Oh, grandmother! I am so glad to see you!”

Both women got off the camel, and the girl could see that it was carrying a much bigger skin filled with water than her mother usually brought home. They hugged the girl, and her mother said: “Let’s hurry in. It is getting hot, and I have not made breakfast yet. You and your grandmother are hungry!”

But the girl answered: “The fig tree told me to make bread with honey and I milked the goat, and everything is waiting on the table inside, but I had given it the last drops of water, and I am so thirsty”.

Mother and grandmother looked at each other and then hugged the girl. “You have done well. Here have some of the fresh water we have brought first and then let’s have the breakfast you have prepared” they said to her. They gave her to drink, and when she finished, she watered the fig tree again. “Thank you for your advice” she whispered, but the fig tree just rustled its leaves and played with its fruit.

blue sky with two fig tree branches
Image by Ulrike Leone from Pixabay

Please stay safe, stay kind and rock your life as good as you can 😊

Please stay a little longer and find my poetry posts on The Bee Creates… on Weebly. Thanks!

You are more into photography? Then please check out my photo posts on Bee Wordless on Blogger.

You can also find my photos on Dreamstime (affiliate link, you do not need to buy anything but if you do I get 10% from your purchase).

Just one more thing before you go: The hospital that is treating me is fundraising for a dedicated breast cancer unit which would allow same-day diagnosis and better premises for patients and staff.

Please, if you can spare a little money hop over to their Just Giving Page and give as little or much as you can. Or share the page on your social media. Your support means a lot to me! Thank you very much.

Thanks my dears, for staying with me until the end. I appreciate your presence. Please stay safe, stay kind and remember that you rock!

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Blast from the Past ~ Lean against… and listen ~ Christmas

December 2019

Five years ago I wrote a story inspired by a childhood memory

December 2014

Only 22 days left and Santa will be knocking on the door (or maybe down the chimney 😉 ).
It’s high time for some Christmas pictures…..

And maybe the storyteller can inspire something festive in me:

Lean against … and listen

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to heal” for this writing prompt:

With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear.

Description for visually impaired readers: A white tea mug with red poppies on it standing on a rock. Over both white writing in the middle of the picture saying: Lean against… and listen

We were walking in darkness.

Well, not fully. Of course, the guides had some torches which not all of them used though. Gabi, Sonja and I walked alongside each other. We just fitted on the forest path side by side. I longed to shout excitedly how wonderful the starry sky looked and how quiet it was in the forest.

In front of us, we could see all the boys and girls covered in thick coats and hats. I could only recognise their silhouettes in the dimmed light of the few torches around us.

“What are the candles for we are holding? They are not lit!” Sonja whispered. “No idea!” I whispered back feeling the little tube-like candle in my gloved hands. Every now and then a boy or girl was brushed by a pine branch and freshly fallen snow tickled down on them. They squeaked just to be hushed by our guides.

“It’s killing me. Where the… are we going?” I could hardly hear Gabi on the other side of Sonja, who whispered back: “No idea ~ just be quiet!” My fingers started to tingle of the coldness and I could hardly feel my nose no matter how many scarves my grandmother had put around me.

A hushed “Wow” came from the front of the line. “What?”, “What?” came from all of those who could not see anything yet. And then we arrived:

A huge pine tree in the middle of a clearing was decorated with hundreds of lit candles and the guides started singing “Oh Tannenbaum…” Stunned we all fell in without hesitation.

I could not take my eyes away from the light and sparkle this Christmas tree disseminated. We had gathered in a huge circle around the tree and I could see the shining faces of my friends and all the others. I did not listen to the stories our pastor was telling or realised I was singing the traditional Christmas songs. I did not feel the cold crawling up my legs or biting into my fingers. I just bathed in the shine and delight this tree gave to us.

In the end, the pastor invited us to go to the tree and light our candles and we carefully, carefully carried them all the way back to the community centre.

Lean against… and listen ~ A cup of tea

September 2019

Feel free the use this writing prompt which kick-starts your creativity nicely 🙂

December 2014

Lean against … and listen

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to heal” for this writing prompt:

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

Description for visually impaired readers: A white tea mug with red poppies on it standing on a rock. Over both white writing in the middle of the picture saying: Lean against… and listen

I should have a cup of tea.

No, it’s not snowing outside. Not yet at least. It is cold though. Freezing to be exact. I have closed my eyes and lean on the back of the pine green armchair and wish for a cup of tea.

Of course, I could get up and make myself one. But I just sat down. I do not want to get up again. I want to sit and concentrate on my inner storyteller and tell that story that wanted to come out ever since…. forever.

However, there is this dryness in my throat and that longing in my belly. Lovely milky brew with some spices. The softness of cinnamon and the strong earthy flavour of clove. And a little exotic: cardamom. Oh, I adore cardamom. It makes both my coffee and my tea just that little bit special.

Imagine that moment you sit down with the cup in your hand and you smell that mixture that reminds you of India and Christmas at the same time. You hold it with both hands, the cup warming them and you just sit and let the fragrances flow around you.

And then….. then you bring the cup close to your lips and the fragrances get more and more intense. Your mouth starts watering. You open it just a little bit and allow a sip of the divine drink to enter your mouth. Ahhh….

Ok, I go and make myself a cuppa!

Lean against… and listen ~ Wish you were here…

September 2019

I don’t think the pain will ever fully go away…

November 2014

Lean against … and listen

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to heal” for this writing prompt:

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

video credit: ReGilmour via YouTube
I am not swimming in a fish bowl year after year but I still wish you were here. 30 odd years is a fu…… long time to be without you. Does the pain ever go away and let me live?

How I hate it when people moan about their mothers. Yes, they can be a pain but imagine she would not be there anymore. Imagine not to call her when you need advice or not being able to get one of her delicious cakes.

Every few years I realise how I still miss her. The pain has changed though. It is not the lost little girl crying. Now it is the adult, who will never have the chance to meet her mother as an adult and finding out who she really was.

Never finding out if she knew. If she knew what he has done and if she tried to do anything about it. But maybe that is the better option: I can still imagine she tried everything to stop him. It is not very likely though…..

 

Lean against… and listen ~ Nothing

As I am scheduling post ahead I wonder what life is going to bring us in the next few months. It is February when I write this post and Brexit is just another 4 weeks away. Maybe my plans are going to be disrupted by unforeseen forces. Who knows. However, I have come to believe, that you need to deal with changes when they arrive not in advance. Looks like my practising mindfulness is having an effect. May you have a wonderful day!!!

And here another tiny story from my inner storyteller:

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to Heal” for this writing prompt:

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa, etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

Description for visually impaired readers: Black background with a white beam in middle. Inside the beam, yellow writing says “Sunbeam”

I see a sunbeam in total darkness.

The darkness is the void. We used to be afraid of the void but now we know the void is the beginning of everything. Everything comes into being out of nothing. The human spirit had forgotten that knowledge. The question of the egg and the chicken is without merit.

Dreams come out of nothing.
Ideas come out of nothing.
Inventions come out of nothing.
Changes come out of nothing.

That is the miracle every religion and spiritual path has taught for millennia. But humankind has forgotten that knowledge.

Changes come out of nothing.
Inventions come out of nothing
Ideas come out of nothing
Dreams come out of nothing

The question of the egg and the chicken is without merit. The human spirit had forgotten that knowledge. Everything comes into being out of nothing. We used to be afraid of the void but now we know the void is the beginning of everything. The darkness is the void.

I see a sunbeam in total darkness.

Lean against… and listen ~ Over the Mountains came the Rain

When I write this post it’s February, it’s not too cold outside but not sunny. For some strange reason, the “t” on our keyboard doesn’t work properly and it annoys me a little. So best to start the writing day with a “Lean against… and listen” 🙂

“I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to Heal” for this writing prompt: 

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa, etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

video source: The One Ring via YouTube

Over the mountains came the rain.

Like a wall, it crashed into the leaves of the trees, washed over the fields and into holes in the roofs. We had wished for the rain to come. Months without it had parched the life out of every creature and plant on earth.

But when it came the life-giving force was deadly…

 

Lean Against And Listen ~ So many of us!

April 2019

It is great to see what I used to do and bringing it to life again 🙂

December 2016

It is Saturday and if I do not have time to take part in Linda’s wonderful “Stream of Consciousness Saturday” I do my own Stream of Consciousness Writing with a prompt that has helped me get back into writing many times. Feel free to try it out and let me know about the messages you received :-):

“I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to Heal” for this writing prompt: 

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa, etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

Description for visually impaired readers: A white tea mug with red poppies on it standing on a rock. Over both white writing in the middle of the picture saying: Lean against… and listen

So many. So many of us. So many of us have perished in the attempt to cross over. This new world found in the depths of quantum physics was nothing like Baxter’s and Pratchett’s “Long World”.

It was terrifying this loneliness. There were no creatures. There were no humans. There were no plants. Just a great big nothing and if you had no creativity to imagine “your” world you just fell and fell and fell and never stopped falling in the great big nothing.

The writers and artists and musicians were lucky. They could create in the blink of an eye and like magic their worlds connected into a beautiful cobweb of music, stories and images. The greedy ones, though, those who had dominated the old world, they ended up under a pile of gold, oil and whatever their minds were attracted to. No air to breathe, no food to eat, no nothing.

And so, in what you might call “an act of the creator” not only the new world but also the old was freed from greed and its perpetrators.

I do not know how I managed. I was one of the greedy ones. So successful when the others tried their luck in the new world in the old one as none of them came back and I just took over their empires. It was so easy. I felt like heaven and I avoided the connection points to the new world like the plague.

Until… until I got lost in that jungle where they promised me more gems. Today I suspect it was a trap set by the creative ones. They had conned themselves into my trust making out they wanted more fame, money and success but what they really wanted was to get rid of me.

But know what? They did me a favour. I stepped into the elevator that supposedly led down into a mine and then I fell and fell and fell and I was terrified and then I remembered. I remembered the days when I collected shells on the beach before the patron of our family took away my dreams. My screams still hang around in the old world.

And now I live on this island full of shells and mango fruit and jumping fish. No one around to beg me for favours or pushing me onwards on that fateful path of greed.

Just now and then I hear another one screaming and I know I am just a blink away from the elevator where those who do not know end their old lives. It is terrifying. This loneliness when you fall. And when you realise you cannot imagine anything else than your greed!

Lean against… and listen ~ Mushrooms and Dog Poo

April 2019
This time it is not for Wordless Wednesday
November 2014

And again another not so Wordless Wednesday where I lean against my story tree and listen to the storyteller. What might she have in store for me today

Lean against … and listen

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to heal” for this writing prompt:

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

Description for visually impaired readers: Meadow grass with a spiderweb in between

I walked into this web of spider creations.

Every tree was decorated with the delicate tangle of threads that the master weavers have birthed. And they, in turn, were decorated with filigree dew drops.
Never had I seen anything like it. Never had I seen so many spider webs in such a small space of forest.

The small footpath I wandered along was surrounded by dark to lighter green ferns. Not one of them was spiderless. I could not see all of them. Thank goodness.

Along the next corner, I could not see my car anymore when I turned around. There was only the lush green glimmer of leaves, ferns and bushes covered with the silver sparkle of dew covered spider webs. I felt like being in my worst nightmare knowing though I was in it. A conflicting feeling. Horrifying and at the same time magical.

The next minute I expected Sam and Frodo strolling towards me with a basket full of mushrooms inviting me to come along. There was a little fire in the clearing I had just left behind and Merry and Pippin cheering to see the basket full of penny buns.

In no time they had a pan on the fire with onions frying in it while Sam cleaned the buns and cut them into exact slices. Their earthy odour mingled with the delicious smell of frying onions.

Suddenly the smell changed though into something rather disgusting. Shocked I looked down at my feet. Frodo and his friends had vanished and I discovered this path was full of dog poo.

Description for visually impaired readers: Fly Agaric seen from top with dry leaves and acorns and little branches around it

This walk has actually happened a few weeks ago when I went mushroom hunting with my husband in a nearby forest. I just did not meet Frodo and his pals and neither did we find any mushrooms :-). But the spider webs were magical and the dog poo was all over the place. Therefore, we never went nor looked back…

This post takes part in Wordless Wednesday. If you like what you have seen here head over and find more gorgeous posts: Wordless Wednesday Blog

Wordless Wednesday ~ Lean against…. and listen

March 2019

I posted this first in November 2014

November 2014

Even though this post is rather “wordful” it takes part in “Wordless Wednesday“. So please head over and enjoy more great photography posts.

Lean against … and listen

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to heal” for this writing prompt:

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here in my deepness, the words spring forth like a thousand wells. Dreamcatcher did not do a good job. Images emerge from nowhere and create confusion: Where have I seen the golden city before? Or is just an ancient cave or a run-down shack?

My soul has lost it’s home. It wanders lost but never lonely as the creatures of the night follow it carefully not to disturb its meditations.

Morgaine awaits. Little Morgaine. But is she little anymore? No. No. Grown-up like a masterful teacher she rides the polar bear after all. She rides towards the night creatures protecting my soul.

She bends in respect before the master of words but Morgaine does not care. Up she lifts my soul with strong hands and the creatures of the night shriek: “She has taken her!”….. “She has taken her!”… ” We have failed the dark master!” and they flee.

So here I am in my deepness where the words spring forth like a thousand wells.

Description for visually impaired readers: no a very clear picture. Muddy bank of a little stream in foreground. The stream is in the middle of the picture but shows shadows of tree trunks and branches and trees and bushes in background