Monday Motivation, Snowpocalypse 2021, and Writing prompts!

SO, I know there was no post on Friday but that was because I decided something. As I sat, exhausted from the week, I realized I had nothing left in me to write with. I needed the weekend to recharge and prep for the oncoming snowstorm.

Monday, I decided. Monday was what worked best for me. I have the most motivation on Monday. I'm not yet beaten down the week.

Here we are. Monday! I will try to do a writing prompt each Monday (and will explain the rules below) and if I don't, I'll post some art and such here and little stories from just everyday life. I'm a writer and an artist but also a human being!

Those in Colorado (and the midwest in general) know that we got an insane snowstorm over the weekend. I don't know the amount of snow that we got but let me tell you, it was the most that I've seen in years. The power stayed on, thankfully but there was a point where we had to go out and dig out our gas vent! Make sure that your pipes are always uncovered, folks. Here are some pictures from the snowstorm. It was fun and stressful- all at the same time. When the roommate and I returned from uncovering the vent, we were both like "wow, we survived a near death experience, what an adrenaline rush". That's how intense the snowstorm was (and how out of shape we are haha). 

Now, for the writing prompt! I have a whole system in place for these already. They are mostly just a "keep it limber" and "be creative" exercise for me. I always encourage people to join me and show off their work! 

Rules:
1. Set a timer for 10 minutes
2. Think about the prompt and write whatever comes to mind for those 10 minutes
3. No EDITING, that's cheating. This isn't about grammar, this is about creativity!
4. Share. Don't be afraid not be afraid to share your unedited writing. Perfection is impossible.

Today's Prompt

Grief

            Tucked under his arm was a bouquet of flowers wrapped in plastic. They were the same color flowers he’d been buying for the last ten years. Each year he made the long trek through the ruins of the once prosperous city to a cemetery. There was rarely anyone else there but today was different.

            There was a couple, huddled together in their coats to ward off the rainy weather. It was nearly freezing and would likely become snow after the sun went down. Khadrim didn’t much care about the weather, he was used to dealing with the elements. He preferred the rain clouds to sunshine but even as he thought it, he rolled his eyes at himself.

            The couple walked through the cemetery, along the paths that had once been well-manicured but were not abandoned to time. Khadrim did not follow even though they appeared to be heading right where he wanted to go. Instead, he made his way around the old House of Worship attached to the gates of the cemetery and leapt atop several boxes before making his way on top of the building. He would watch them from the roof, next to one of the spires in case he needed to hide.

            Together the couple made their way to a row in the back of the cemetery. They were whispering amongst each other and kneeling in front of a plaque. Khadrim couldn’t see which one it was, but he had a distinct feeling that it was one familiar to him. He watched them as they grieved for some time before turning away and making their way back along the path and out of the cemetery.

            Khadrim leapt from the roof when they were gone and went on his way. He avoided people most days. It was easier. There in front of the grave, on the wet grass, the one that he had come to visit several times a year, was a small and modest bouquet of flowers. It was laid with care and Khadrim looked to the one he’d brought with him. They couldn’t be more different. His had been bought at a store and these looked to be lovingly put together by those who had left it there.

            He brushed his fingers over the flowers and then over the grave. Years had passed but the wound was just as deep as it had ever been. A man who had been a parent to him for a short time lay memorialized beneath his feet. There had been no body to bury but a plaque in an abandoned cemetery was better than no memory at all. He had deserved the world and Khadrim couldn’t give it to him.

            Laying his bouquet next to the one that the couple had left behind, Khadrim crouched and stared at them side by side. Familiar hands had placed those flowers there and he hung his head. He grieved for the brief friendships he’d lost and the life that he had once dreamt of. He had long since moved on, of course, but every so often the pain stung.

            Grief wasn’t something that time healed, not the way that people talked about in books or shows or stories. No, grief was something that you grew with and learned to live alongside. Eventually it had stopped eating him alive, but it was always there, a constant truth of his life. At first it had been like a hole that had encompassed his entire being. With time, however, it had become a smaller and smaller hole, the kind of hole that he could walk around most of the time. Every so often his foot got stuck and he had to fight his way through it again.

            Brushing his fingertips along the plaque, he whispered a farewell and a thank you and then stood up, shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked along the pathway that would take him out of the cemetery. Just as he had predicted, as the weather had gotten colder, the rain had turned to slush and snow.

            He stood at the gates and stared into the serene gray sky. Flakes of snow fluttered above him, blissfully unaware of any of the chaos and pain that the world it fell upon felt.