Welcome Geanna! So glad to have you back for another guest post. This post, Mystic Moment, was written as the result of a writing prompt (see below for details) that was provided to the Writing Writer’s Group in preparation for an upcoming meeting in September. Read on, you’ll be inspired…
By Geanna Sowers
Joella Lovell down shifted her car into second gear. Her car gave an unnecessary grumble as she drove it into an empty parking space. The Blue ridge Parkway provided lovely overlooks and small adventures on almost every drive. With the agility of youth, Jo flowed
out of the bucket seat of her sporty ’69 stingray Corvette, muscle black, trimmed in chrome, glinted in the sun. Her hazel colored eyes were covered with cheap sunglasses. Her shoulder length, sable brown, ponytail bounced sassily with her every movement of her height a willowy, five foot eight.
The unrelenting sound of the cicada’s filled her ears. The drifting tang of apples and mowed grass floated on the mountain air. A little walk would loosen her up before she finished her drive to visit family.
An old stone church stood just off in a meadow like a stoic guardian of it’s past congregation and relatives. The front of the graveyard was boarded with odd sizes of slate slabs driven into the ground while the back and sides were surrounded with various oaks, pines, and dogwood trees. The air felt refreshing to Jo, as compared to the lower elevations where she had recently moved to find work. She felt her mind begin to calm. The mid afternoon sun warmed her face; the gentle breeze wafted wet leaves and pine cones.
As she walked amongst the resting places of souls long gone, she noted that the grave stones were named with what must be local families, all unfamiliar to her. The dates, from 1700s to 2000s were enchanting, yet gave her pause, as she strolled around with a lanky stride and unconscious grace.
Suddenly an odd sense came over her. She noticed the frosty kiss of autumn and saw that the trees weren’t as green or summery. They had started their march to change into golds, reds, and oranges. The lyrical hum of honey bees working and the familiar chirp of song birds seemed to weave into the air and move on. A shadow of a flock of Canada geese soared high above in the classic V pattern. They flew into the blue cloudless sky as Jo looked up and listened to their distant honk. She felt the hair on her neck rise up; her arms had goose bumps. The whispers of the mountain hummed in her brain; a mystic moment. She was home after all.
Thank you, Geanna! This post came to Geanna as a result of the following prompt provided to the Writing Writer’s Group (WWG) from The Writer mag October 2014 issue:
Here is the prompt that inspired Geanna to write:
Write as much as you can using the following prompt (perfect for setting the mood for the fall): A character enters a cemetery, but not to visit a grave or to attend a funeral. Why is the character there? Who or what does the character encounter? Create an unconventional graveyard scene with a surprising outcome. Describe the cemetery sights and develop atmosphere through sound and weather.
Let us know what you think of Geanna’s interpretation by leaving a comment. Tell us what you thought about reading the WWG members’ words. It means so much to an author to receive feedback and comments.
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Thanks for reading!