This card depicts a boy on a horse about to ride a rainbow over a canyon
Moving forward is never easy. Somewhere over the rainbow is a dangerous place to go, and even if the grass is greener on the other side, you can’t help look back. They say not to, but maybe turning into salt is better than a lifetime with an inner chasm, knowing you can never return because the bridge had dissipated and you’ve grown too big to fit in the cracks in your old house.
Forward is the only option now, and it’s a leap of faith. Rainbows are nothing but fractured light anyway, so who’s to say this life thing isn’t all an illusion? The forest is darker when you arrive, even though you already knew that. Someone left a lamp for you, but it still only lights a few steps ahead and it had a tendency to flicker out. There’s an awful loneliness about going forward. No matter how many people have done it before, you always seem to be cutting a new path. And you always left some part of you across the chasm, forever waving goodbye.
This card depicted a woman with an aquarium for a skirt. The result of my free write led me into a nonfiction piece about the Midsummer Festival in Lithuania, which merits its own post in a few days, so in the meantime:
This card depicts a purse with a face like the cookie monster. It’s one of my favorite free writes this challenge has pulled out of me.
My purse is a monster! This morning, I thought I would use it to carry my lunch, my water bottle, notebook, lipstick, glasses, sunglasses, pen, pencil, and half a bar of chocolate. I think it was the chocolate that did it. Now my purse is eating my life! As I walked out the door, it sprang to life and swallowed the doorknob. It tried to take the entire door, but I ripped it away just in time.
I don’t know how I’ll get back into my apartment now. I tried to open my car, but it ate my keys, so I walked to work, my purse snacking the whole way there. It ate grass clippings, donuts, coffee from the hands of passersby, the hands of passersby, fruit stands. I’m sorry ma’am! I didn’t take your dry cleaning, my purse ate it.
It ate my neighbor’s cat, my boss’s car, and it’s still hungry. I can’t bring it into work with me. It might eat my co-workers, my boss. Well, that might not be so bad… I’m afraid to give anything back. If I reach down it, my purse might take my arm off. I think I’ve got a solution. I will feed it my paycheck, the source the holes in all my pockets. It worked! My purse has burned up. Of course, now I don’t have a purse… or a paycheck.
This card depicts a daisy ripping off its petals.
I love me, I love me not. Some days, I can’t decide, so I will pull my petals out trying to remember. You’d think it would hurt to tear myself apart, going bald in search of self love. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m so used to little girls picking my apart like a daisy that I thought I would get ahead of them by trying it myself. Nothing hurts anymore. The pinch as my petals fall away is nothing compared to the weathering of the wing. The coming storm is a blessing. It washes over the sore spots on my face.