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I got today’s prompt from Marc at Daily Writing, who had got it from Greg at Protagonize.

They wrote poems (you can find Greg’s poem in the comments of Daily Writing) but I am just going to write.

Pigeon Vigil

I know they are there. Thirty years will not have halted the generations long vigil. Thirty years will not have dampened the stout hearts within their iridescent breasts. They would be different if I went back today. Long gone would be the cripple with feet taken by some unknown danger. Our mom had speculated that perhaps the little one had landed on a bare section of electrical line as she helped us coax the more hardy ones aside so that bits of bread could be more easily tossed to the crippled pigeon. Even then I wondered just how many others must do the same until that sole pigeon was the most well fed of all the pigeons.

They kept vigil on the power lines, roof ledges and other high areas of Marina Del Rey. They watched, ever alert for the passing visitor to pause and toss an offering to them. As I remember them now they were a very courteous flock of pigeons. Until they saw the gentle arc of bread. Descending down to the morsel they would scrabble to be the first one to it, flying away as soon as they had claimed their prize to perch once again in their chosen vantage point. Carefully selected for its view of the area favored by visitors feeding the pigeons.

I should like to return there one day. To sit on the small bench I can see in my minds eye and toss bread to the boardwalk for the pigons that have no doubt maintained their long vigil.

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Okay, perhaps it does not exactly mesh with the spirit of the word vigil, but the first thing I thought of when I read ‘pigeon vigil’ was those pigeons at Marina Del Rey.

I was reading over the older prompts at Writer’s Digest’s writing prompts page and when I read this one I just had to try my hand at it:

Your neighbor has taken in an unusual pet and it does something unpleasant to your house/yard. Confront your neighbor

There was something about that writing prompt that just made me snicker and I had to try my hand at it.

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The bag of groceries hit the ground with a heavy thunk, canned goods and vegetables rolled in different directions, unnoticed as I stared at the roof of my house. An old Victorian, I had carefully rebuilt it over the span of twenty years. Woods salvaged from old construction to match the original woods they replaced, the shingles had been taken from a dozen different demolitions and tossed together, mixed and put up onto my house in a lovely collection of old woods that had blended perfectly.

It had been such a lovely house, and now… it needed a new roof. The shingles were being doused by the hoses of the fire truck by the time I pulled out of my shock enough to sort out what had happened to the house. There was only one explanation and I knew it was the right conclusion. Hands fisted I stalked past the muttering firemen and through the flowerbed that had already been trampled by the helpful firefighters that were drowning everything in my house to add water damage to the smoke damage.

I pounded on the door of my neighbor’s house, my fist hit so hard that it rattled the heavy door on its hinges. This was not like when my garden had been dug up. It was well beyond the damage that my car had suffered the week before and somehow even worse than the pile of excrement that had been on my lawn on a near daily basis since the man had brought home his new pet. When the door opened it was tempting to keep pounding on the man that stood there, instead I pointed at my house. “Do you see what your dragon did this time?!”

Sorry about the silence, I had to work on my taxes the past week and a half to get them finished off and in by the October 15th deadline.

I’m snaring my writing prompt for today from Writer’s Digest where they have:

You’re 12 years old and have entered a school Halloween costume contest. There’s stiff competition, though you’re confident you’ll win—until you find out someone has bribed the judge. Write this scene.

I actually think I encountered a situation like this one, but I was not 12, I was 11. Let me go over it for you here, shall I?

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At just shy of twelve I did not know much about contest bribery, but I did have a strong suspicion that something was not quite on the level with the panel that had been set up to judge the class costume contest. There we stood, lined up along the front of the classroom waiting to be judged for our costumes. Now, I admit, I was not the traditional witch that had come to be my trademark costume for every Halloween since I had first dressed up, but I was not to feeling too bad about my scarecrow outfit. Burlap bag over my shirt, straw tucked into my sleeves, collar, pockets, and cuffs, a hat… I was a rather decent, if cobbled together from old clothes and odds and ends, scarecrow – even if I do say so myself.

I was, therefore, feeling pretty good about my chances of winning something in the class costume contest. Slowly but surely prizes were awarded for this or that. Scariest, prettiest, most original… all the usual awards for a class costume contest. Finally they came to the last one, the best overall. I knew I had to be a shoo in for it, since my only real competition at that point were all wearing store-bought costumes.

Then came the moment, the moment in my life when I first realized that there was no such thing as a fair judgment when the judges could be bribed or perhaps best friends of the parents of a contestant. For all I knew one of them could have been a parent of the kid that stood near me and was suddenly the center of their attention. I remember hearing someone say how difficult the inflatable bug head had to be to wear all day. That swayed the other judges and ignoring the scratchy straw and burlap I wore that was so much more irritable to wear than a inflatable cockroach head, they awarded the prize for best overall to a kid dressed up in a store bought costume with an inflatable bug head hat. Because it had to be uncomfortable to wear.

To this day I am fairly certain there had to be some kind of bribery or favoritism going on in the judge pool for that contest.

Okay, I have to get back to working on my writing, and that means that I have to do the occasional rambling written prompts about assorted stuff. So, I made up a personalized Day Planner sheet to print out and have printed out a few weeks to get me started on it and the first thing at the top of the “blogs” list is Daily Writing Prompt.

Rather I do as I did today and look out the window to see the colors of fall and write free writing for a few minutes to see what happens, or I find a prompt elsewhere, or just get inspired by something to write a bit of randomness, I will write to this blog every day I am able to work at the computer from now on.

Today’s prompt was inspired by watching the faded green and yellow leaves spiral from the aspen trees down to the roof of the tool shed out in the yard. I just started typing on my AlphaSmart and kept going wherever the muse went for a few minutes, no editing since it was first written.

Feel free to leave comments with your own writing or a link to where you have your writing posted.

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Fall Colors

Twirls of color fall gently to the ground, leaves caught in a spiral on the wind. The season has changed now and winter is in the air, the once green trees faded to yellow, then barren, ready fr the heavy press of new fallen snow.

There is a stillness to the autumn, a brief moment when breath is held, the world paused to listen and wait. Snow coats the high peaks of the mountains, the late afternoon sun not quite warm before it will set, a moment earlier than it had the day before. Winter comes, on silent still nights. Winter wraps the world in a chill blanket ant bids it sleep as if in death.