Morning all. It is a bright and sunny day. Its been cooler here the past could of days but apparently even though we missed the promised rain, the temps are once again lifting. The grass has reached the crunchy stage of the season too. I always feel bad for walking on it when it gets like that. It feels a bit like desecration. But grass death aside, I am ready to start the day if you are. Wiggle those fingers and flex your brain. pick up your writing implement of choice and let that timer go, I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.
As with most of the longer sentences I feel like I was dropped into a preexisting story rather than starting one from scratch. I know that each only had one sentence but It just feels that way to me. At least i feel i write slightly differently with a longer sentence than I do with a shorter one. I like them both and actually I kind of want to see what happens to Bernard. Or what happened to him in the past. It is nice to have both sorts of prompts. And I will probably be thinking of Bernard all day now.
Wednesday, July 14th: The laughter echoed through the room bringing warmth and light to shadowed spaces.
The laughter echoed through the room bringing warmth and light to shadowed spaces. It startled Bernard at first. He hadn’t realized just how cold and dark his world became until he heard the laughter. Its bright warmth threw the room into sharp contrasting focus.
Had the light been this dim for this long? How long had it been since the curtains were opened?
He knew intellectually that his servants would have opened the curtains each morning and made certain they were closed each evening, emitting light and air into his rooms, but how many times had he arrived, found the merry sunshine and affront and shut the curtains again, preferring the dimmer glow of candlelight?
Even though the child was gone, her shining joy as she discovered the world around her for the first time taken away by her parents to light their own home, some of the warmth remained with Bernard. As though impelled by it, he moved to the window nearest him, gripped the velvet drapes and pulled them apart. The rings holding it to the curtain rod screitched along the surface unpleasantly.
Light flooded in, bathing him in a golden glow. “Midafternoon,” he said, his voice holding a touch of wonder.
That was when the light fell this way on the side of the house, enveloped this room in gold. It felt almost tangible as it touched his face, like silk warmed by a living body brushing across his skin. He moved to the other windows, ancious for the gold to fill the room as it had in the past. He was filled with a longing to see it. His steps moved faster hoping he wa not to late in the day to see the room once again fully bathed in gold.
One by one the curtains were flung open admitting the light. With the last one parted, he turned to study the room. Golden light streamed in, it was glorious, but not quite as he remembered. Comparing memory with reality he moved to the mantle. In times the ornaments gleamed, the veins in the marble of the fireplace surround looking molten in the light. He touched the marble now and his fingertips came away with a fine coating of dust and ash. His eyes scanned the room.
Had that dust been there long? How had the cobwebs gotten so prevalent?
He knew how, just as he knew why the curtains were closed. This was his favortite room, even in his own darkness. He made it as dark as he was, He closed the curtains and chased the servants out, leaving them no time to perform their duties.
“This ends,” he told himself.
It was time to fully step back into the light. “And here is as good a place to start as any.” He moved to the bell pull to summon the butler.
Ten til Midnight 