Friday is finally here. I don’t know about you, but this felt like a really long week to me. I for one am happy to welcome the weekend. It may be filled with all of the chores that I put off during the week, but there will also be some fun stuff too. It will be a nice recharge. But before the weekend arrives, there is Friday to work through. So before the workday starts, it is the morning writing prompt. Timers set and go!
Well, that was different. At least for me. But there you have what came out of my brain today, unexpected as it is. If you are interested in seeing the prompts without my writing attached, I will be posting the upcoming prompts in a post right after this.
Friday, November 6th: He was eager to get started.
He was eager to get started. He had watched for years, studied and followed along with his grandfather’s movements, but never had he been allowed to work in the shop. He was only allowed to sit and watch, to observe. Now he was being given a chance to touch something, to try and make something with his own hands.
His fingers twitched as he looked at the stack of wood. How many times had he seen his grandfather take similar piles, cut it, shape it and come out with something beautiful and unexpected, Now it was his turn. He barely listened to the words of the instructions as he studied the pile of wood wondering what he would make. So many ideas crowded his brain. He could hardly wait to begin.
“You have all that?” His grandfather asked.
He could only nod. The words were like flies buzzing in his ears. Annoying and superfluous.
“Carl will be keeping an eye on you and help you out if you get stuck. “
Again he nodded. He turned to watch his grandfather leave. The easy gated walk seemed slower today as though he was waiting to be called back to answer more questions. Mike shrugged it off. His grandfather was old, old people sometimes moved slow. He let the thought go and turned back to the lumber.
He looked it over and discovered it wasn’t flat and smooth. The boards were rough, rougher than he expected. Splinters looked like a distinct possibility. They also weren’t entirely even and some of the pieces still had bark on them. He frowned not remembering that part of watching his grandfather. He only remembered the smooth boards almost satiny sleek under their layers of polish.
‘Maybe it is the polish that makes them smooth,’ Mike thought. He studied the bits of tree presented to him and chose the one he thought looked the best. He drew it out of the pile and dragged it over to the work bench, the end of it bumping along on the ground behind him. The board was heavier than he thought it would be. He tugged it over to the work bench and leaned it against the table. He sucked in air through his teeth as he felt a splinter sink into his finger.
Thinking of infections and how he didn’t want to lose a finger on his first dy in the workshop, Mike went over to the first aid kit on the wall. There were no tweezers in the kit but he managed to squeeze the splinter out of his hand without the, he then found a bottle marked antibacterial and doused his finger with it wincing as it stung. He bandaged it up and then went back to his work table ready to get started.
‘For real this time,’ he told himself. He found the board was too long to work with so he left it propped against the side of the table and picked up one of the saws. He cut into the side meaning to cut off a chunk to work with. In his mind he decided he would carve the board into manageable bits and then lay them across the table to see what could be made from them. This seemed like the best plan. It took him more than an hour to cut the board into shorter lengths. By the time he was done his hands were covered in brown stains from the antibacterial liquid and bandages where he covered the former splinter sites. When he looked at the boards he felt disappointed. They still weren’t smooth but the ends weren’t even. Some of them were cut at angles and some of the cuts he made were quite jagged instead of straight across as he intended. It didn’t look quite right but he couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong.
Ten til Midnight 