Just Keep Writing: November 10, 2022 - Thursday Threads

 Welcome back for another three-word prompt! I hope you're ready to write or create something awesome. 

Just Keep Writing: Thursday Threads

If this is your first time participating in this kind of writing exercise, you're in for a treat. If you've done this with me before, just keep scrolling for the prompt.

Rules:

  1. You can use any/all of the words and/or the photo in the prompt below to create a unique written work. Fiction or nonfiction, poetry or prose, even lyrics are acceptable.  
  2. Please keep the material you write clean (ie. nothing R-rated or worse) if you wish to share the link to your work here, as well as if you link back to my site. I strive to keep my site free of such things. My readers know and expect this. I respect your right to write whatever you feel you need to write. And you're free to use my prompts. But if your material is graphic, I'd rather not view it, and most of my readers will not wish to. 
  3. Have fun! This type of exercise is perfect for growing in the writing craft, or for helping through a rough patch in your current WIP. If you're looking to push your author limits and you normally write in nonfiction prose, try a whimsical collection of lyrics. If you normally write poems about real life events, try your hand at a fanfic. Give yourself some room to explore.

Don't forget to leave a link to your creation (unless you're writing graphic material) so my readers and I can check out your work. I'd appreciate a link back to this post to help me reach more readers, but it's not required. 

Photo by Giannis Osep

If you like this photo, I hope you'll check out Giannis' gallery at Pexels.com. Just click here to visit!


Just Keep Writing: Nano Edition - Story 1 

I wanted to share story one from my Nanowrimo project this year. I thought I'd shared it but, maybe that was just me thinking about sharing it. In any case, I can't seem to locate it on the blog. And in my defense, I'm functioning at half-mast today. Tuesday was a long, difficult day made better by good company, but I worked the polls. So, EARLY morning and LATE night...woke up with a headache Wednesday morning and some congestion. It is what it is. 

Please keep in mind this story is brand new and still pretty raw. I gave it a spotty edit so you are likely to find mistakes and perhaps some choppiness. But overall, I think it has a ton of potential. I like it, so I wanted to share it with you.

In any case, here's the story. Please don't stress over the pronunciation of names. The story is complete and a little snapshot of a character's daily life in my book world. If you'd like definitions or explanations, just leave a comment and I'll try to get to it. I will give you the pronunciation of the MCs names though:
  • Aniisa (ah NEE sah)
  • Deith'n (DAY thn) with the 'th' voiced as in the word 'than'


The List of Fun

A chippet sung its lilting tune right outside Aniisa’s window. She groaned. Did they have to do that every time Tsifi’ra peeked over the horizon? Just the hint of light was enough to stir those flyers up. Normally, it didn’t bother her, but this dawning was different. This dawning…there was a gaping maw of a hole where her batir used to be. 

Sure. He was in the presence of Azilet’zal now, forever living in peace and joy. But what was she supposed to do now that he’d left her alone? Every creak in the d’gut, every tap of her shoe on the rushes, seemed amplified without his teasing and guidance. 

He’d promised to travel with her to Levanna when the time came, promised he’d always be beside her that day their parents had been drowned while traveling back from the Great Gathering two tsimikin past. Now they were all gone and she was all that was left of her simple, small, loving family. 

Hot tears welled and overflowed, coursing down her cheeks in a never-ending cascade. Covering her face with both hands, she sobbed. The deep, wrenching, gasps for breath overwhelmed the silence of her home and drowned out the merry song which seemed so badly fit for her life. 
A thud broke into her sorrow and shook her momentarily from her despair. Wiping her face with the first bit of cloth she could find, she hurriedly pulled on a simple liilum pink tunic. Grimacing at the happy color which was so antithetical to her spirits, she moved toward the constant thudding which was coming from her front door. 

“Who is it?” she asked. On another dawning she might’ve minded that her voice was raw and scratchy. 

“It’s Deith’n. Open up, ‘Niisa.”

“Go away. I’m still in mourning.” Aniisa turned to head back to her room, fully intending to cry herself to sleep again. At least in sleep, she was oblivious to pain and the heavy weight of loneliness. 

“I’m not going away. You might as well open the door.”

“It’s not proper and you know it Deith’n Havashoneh.” 

“I don’t care. No one’s come to see how you are. I know. I’ve been keeping watch.” There was a long pause. Aniisa hoped he’d left and she took another step toward her room. When he continued, it startled her and she lost her balance, tumbling to the floor. Why was she so weak? 

“If you don’t open this door, I’m going to do it myself. For the sake of all that is holy, Aniisa! You can’t hide away naida after nainda and think no one will worry.” 

Aniisa pushed herself up until she could sit on her knees. How had she made it to the door? And when was the last time she ate a real meal?
And then there was no time for thinking because Deith’n had made good on his threat. “What? What happened?”

She waved him away and struggled to stand on her own. “I’m fine. Just need to get some food.” He ignored her feeble attempts to push him away and helped her stand. But he didn’t stop there, he helped her all the way to the cooking brazier and settled her on her cushion at the empty, slightly dusty table. 

“What are you doing, Aniisa? Trying to join Efral in Shinali? Only Azilet’zal gets to decide that, you know.” The sharpness in his tone prodded at the sore places in her heart. Her batir would have swatted her fiercely could he but see her now. She hung her head. 

“I’m sorry, Deith’n,” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to continue. “I just don’t know how to keep moving forward. My,” she gulped back a sob and continued, “my Visioning pilgrimage was to begin this very dawning. And he was supposed to be here. He promised. And I’m not ready. We were planning to go and gather all the supplies when—” she stopped abruptly and dropped her head into her hands. Silent, unwanted sobs shook her. 

Sudden warmth enveloped her and she latched onto the comfort like a wanderer in a barren wilderness. 
“I’ll bear this sorrow with you, ‘Niisa. You can lean on me and for now, I’ll be your strength.” 


Since that dawning a naida ago, Deith’n had continued to come. Aniisa couldn’t bear the silence and he was her friend, had been Efral’s friend, first. This dawning, he’d come to help her go through Efral’s belongings. It was past time to do it, but she hadn’t been brave enough. Not alone. 

That first dawning when Deith’n had to pick her up off the floor, he’d helped her fix a meal. Then he’d patiently detangled the knots she’d made in her hair. He warmed water and sent her to the cleansing chamber right before he left to find more firewood. If Aniisa was honest, she probably would have starved herself without his insistent presence. 

She was going to have to stop relying on him. Her parents and Efral had guided her well to be able stand on her own. And she should. Azilet’zal obviously had work for her to do. It was long past the time to go see just what that work was. 

“Are you coming, ‘Niisa?” Deith’n called from Efral’s room and though his voice was a bit deeper and a little more flat, a lump rose in her throat. She forced it down. 

“Yes,” was all she could manage in answer, but she hurried. Best to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

Together, they sorted and cleaned until every nook and cranny had been checked. Considering the roundness of the rooms in a d’gut, her batir had managed to create corners where none had existed along the walls. The thought brought a wobbly smile to her face. After crying so many dawnings, it felt awkward. 

Deith’n hooked a finger under her chin and made a big show of examining her. “Is that a smile?” He rose a little on his knees and leaned closer. “Why, yes, I think it is.” Sitting back onto his knees, he released her chin, crossed his arms, and asked with a grin of his own, “What brought that on?” 

Aniisa shrugged. Her chin burned where he’d touched it. “Just the way his room and his things were so much a reflection of him. Did you get some kind of powder or paint on your hands? My chin burns.”

Deith’n shook his head. Aniisa frowned, confused, and opened her mouth to ask him again, but he turned and got back to work. She didn’t know what to think of his strange behavior. Staring at his back wasn’t getting this task done, though. 

The shelf Efral had constructed from sturdy wooden poles and strong woven, grass ropes beckoned her. Aniisa brushed her fingertips along the structure, allowing herself to open up that memory and relive it just for a moment. The joy in completing such a project, the pride in creating it all by himself, had puffed Efral up that dawning. But still he hadn’t let it ruin his attitude toward others. 

The top shelf was high. She couldn’t see whether there were things on it or not. By stretching, she managed to check for things they might have missed. “What’s this?” she asked as her search elicited a scritching sound. Sliding it forward, she pulled down the bit of partra which was covered in her youngling scrawl. 

The List of Fun was written in big, wobbly letters across the top of the page. Underneath were the numbers one through ten. Only five had been filled in by her. After the disastrous trip to the fast-flowing, woodland stream near their d’gut, she’d forgotten all about the list. But apparently Efral hadn’t. In clear, neat lettering, he’d continued. 

Deith’n’s smooth voice murmured as he read aloud. She was fine until he got to number eight. “Recieved flowers and a big hug for my birth dawning celebration from ‘Niisa.” But he didn’t seem to notice she was crying again, because he continued. “Number nine. ‘Niisa is smiling and laughing again. It only took eight minsikin, but she can have fun again. Number ten.” 

Deith’n flipped the page, but Aniisa knew he wouldn’t find anything. He finally put the page on a nearby stack and looked at her. Seeing her tears, he reached up again and wiped them away, leaving one hand on her cheek. 

Aniisa leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. “Thank you for your help, Deith’n. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t come when you did.”

“I couldn’t just keep watch any longer. Your sorrow…I felt it like it was my own, ‘Niisa. I can’t explain it. When I heard such deep mourning, I couldn’t stand by and leave you alone with such a great burden.”

“My thanks to you, Deith’n.” She reached up and covered his hand with one of hers and felt him tremble. Her eyes flashed open in alarm. Had Efral’s passing been so hard on him, too? 

At her look, he backed away and dropped his hand to his side. “It looks like we’re almost done. Is there anything else you need my help with before I go home?”

Aniisa looked out of Efral’s window. The suns were on their downward path, but it was unusual for Deith’n to leave before Mit’ra was touching the treetops. Had she said or done something wrong? Was he overcome with his own grief? 

“I’ll be back morrow dawning to help you pack for your Visioning pilgrimage.” He was through Efral’s woven grass door and down the hall before Aniisa realized what was happening. 

“Wait,” she hurried after him. “Deith’n wait, please!” 

He didn’t stop until he was at the front door. And he didn’t turn to look at her when he spoke. “I know I’m not your batir, but will you allow me to go with you?” 

“It’s unusual for anyone to go with a pilgrim, but for someone not of the family who’s already taken their own pilgrimage,” she shook her head, “I’ve never heard of it.”

“’Niisa,” he began, still facing the door, his hand on the locking mechanism.

“You are most welcome, Deith’n. I shouldn’t agree, but I would like it if you were there.” 

What was going on in her head she wasn’t sure. But she was going to find out. 

Azilet’zal gives. Azilet’zal takes away. Azilet’zal gives more again.


Thanks so much for stopping by today. I hope your spark of creativity was lit by what you found here. 

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Robin McElveen

Robin McElveen is the author of the Children of Y’Dahnndrya YA fantasy series. She lives in Louisiana with her family, their dog, several farm cats, and a few chickens. In addition to writing, she enjoys singing and playing music, creating art, and sewing costumes.

https://www.authorrobinmcelveen.com
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Book Notes: November 9, 2022 - Historical Romance