This blog is for all who desire to create with words and images.
You are encouraged to participate in any way that is meaningful to you.

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All prompts beneath the photos are only suggestions.
You are free to use the photo to be inspired to write any way you desire.
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There is no deadline on posting,
you may offer your writing to any prompt anytime.
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Write and you are a writer.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Page 123


Suggested prompt...
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Grab the book you are currently reading and and open it to page 123
use a sentence that grabs your attention to inspire your writing today.
(Sharing the book title and author is nice but not mandatory.)



__________________________

"Probably both suspecting each other and keeping apart - and life so very short." (From The Tuesday Club Murders, by Agatha Christie)

***

She flipped through the last pages of the magazine before tossing it aside. The waiting room was empty. The receptionist at the desk worked quietly behind the closed glass window, her belly big - evidence of the baby she was carrying.

Mary sighed, her own possible pregnancy a long-shot at this point. At forty-four, her fertility was waning - add to it the lack of a viable father - and she felt as though she would never experience the magic of carrying her own child, the lucky pain of bringing him or her into this world, or the joy of raising and guiding a new human life on this fragile planet.

She observed the receptionist with a cruel eye. She didn't note a band on her finger. Was she also a client? Would she also carry a child that had been placed inside her through artificial means? Had her body accepted this form of reproduction? And why her? She was only a receptionist. What kind of life could she offer to a beautiful, new life, ready to be shaped, and nurtured.

Mary reached for a second magazine, throwing an angry look towards the receptionist as the young girl looked up and smiled...

***

Amy's fingers froze on her keyboard as she gazed out through the reception window. The last patient of the day, Mary Bly, shot her a dirty look. Amy wished she had Mary's life - her clothes were proof of a rich wardrobe. Oh to have that kind of money! She would not want for anything, and life would be so easy.

Amy's shoulders twitched as she looked back at her computer screen, her personal email account open:

"Dear Mom,

I know I haven't sent an email in awhile, but things haven't been going well. I know I should call, but it's easier this way. I'm pregnant, and I don't know what to do. I can barely afford to take care of my darling babies now. Please don't ask about the father. He's not going to help out either.

I don't know what to do. What do I do?"

***

"Mary?" a nurse called as she opened the door into the waiting room.

"I'm the only one here," Mary mumbled as she rose, slinging her purse over her shoulder. She walked through the door and past the receptionist, who again offered a slight smile.

"You must be one of the lucky ones," Mary said tightly as she passed.

Amy's smile faded as she pressed 'send'. "I guess," she whispered.

~
Tracy




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14 comments:

Simply Heather said...

The Words that many of us are in need of hearing today, as I've opened up to page 123 in The Message Bible; I'm lead to Exodus.

The verse that calls to my attention, speaking life into me and possibly to you, right at this very moment is...

GOD said, "My presence will go with you. I'll see the journey to the end."

If only you truly knew the vast array of my thoughts today, my writing could not convey the entirety of them.

Yes, these are the Words from a loving Father above; words that reach down, deep within my soul and blossom with the color of hope.

~ Denise ~ said...

"Of course, absence of evidence is not always evidence of absence, but you won't find ..."

me trying to hide anything. Those Thin Mints were really good ! ;)

Sarah said...

"Julie moaned. She wept. She rammed her fist against the nearest fishtank[...]"

Why is it so hard to be a deity?
I want to help these people
yet I know in my heart
that I cannot help everyone.
I want to be like Jesus,
in hell serving people
ice water
laced with morphine.
He knows he can't help everyone.

But he can try.

***The book is Only Begotten Daughter by James Morrow***

Dani said...

"Even as I shuddered away from the images, I felt my eyes fill with tears and the aching begin around the edges of the hole in my chest." -New Moon by Stephenie Meyer

I'm reading this book for the third time aloud to my husband. Just started, so I hadn't gotten to this part about pain yet. But it brings back memories to me. Memories from reading these word for the first time and remembering more memories from times in my life when I felt like there was a hold in my chest. Times when I felt like I was searching among the brush to find something and feeling like there was nothing to find.

Times like this we feel we have nothing, and maybe even that we are nothing. This is always when I turn to my faith and know that I am someone and that there is a higher plan for me that I just don't understand. This hope and faith I have is something I hope others can have too. Something I hope people who may feel they are nothing can find for themselves, and know they are never alone and that they are eternally loved.

Dan Felstead said...

Page 123 - "Whoever tells the best story wins" by Annette Simmons

Quote: "Think about a difficult decision that left you unsure. In the end what did you decide to do?"

My son broke the news to me about his girlfriend's pregnancy. Two years left before his degree... girlfriend pregnant. I had always told him the consequences for an "adult" decision was that he would be on his own financially. I stuck by it although it was the hardest thing I have ever done.

Three months later, he called at midnight...the electric had been shut off and he was being evicted. 6 hours later, my son would be homeless on the street with a girlfriend that is 4 months pregnant. He asked me if they could come home until they got on their feet. I asked him what his plan was to get on their feet..."I will figure out something", he said. With tears in my eyes and a trembling voice, I told him to call me when he had a plan. 4 hours later, he called.

The plan was to move home and get a job, his girlfriend would keep the pregnancy and give the child up for adoption. I said welcome home.

My son got a job, gave up the baby to a wonderful childless couple and the girlfriend moved away...never to be seen again.

4 years later (today), my son is finishing school, emotionally mature and back on track with his head on straight. We are closer than ever.

The hardest and most questioned decision I ever had to make...the one that I was most unsure about...turned out to be the right one. I hope I am never in that situation again.

Dan

Marc said...

"Sounds of the market in the morning mist" - The Essential Haiku, edited by Robert Hass

Chicken pecking in the dirt,
Stained hands against a shirt,
Crinkling greens placed just so,
Sandled-feet shuffling slow.

Hammer meets nail,
Stalls ready for sales,
The weighty, expectant hush,
Before the morning rush.

Marc said...

Dan - I'm glad sticking to your guns worked out so well for you. That was a heck of a tough spot to be in.

septembermom said...

A quote from page 123 of Alice Walker's "The Temple of My Familiar":

"Artists, he now understood, were simply messengers. On them fell the responsibility for uniting the world."

To those with open minds, hearts and spirits, art can share messages of hope, inspiration and vocation. Art can speak all languages, and therefore bring all people together through beauty and truth.

Monica said...

I just saw this, I haven't had much time to read blogs. I'm glad the photograph inspired each of you to write.

Dan, I feel for you in that situation, it was a tough one to make but obviously it worked out for the best.

Thank you to each of the writers who participated and each were wonderful in their own right.

Monica

Dani said...

Wow Dan! I am so inspired and impressed. What a wonderful parenting method- to trust your child to do what is best. Giving that trust to them is usually what teaches them the most and that is so great that things worked out for them.

Shawn Michel de Montaigne said...

From pg. 123 of my own novel, Melody & the Pier to Forever:

Yaeko stared down at her lap.

The elevator was slowing. Stopped. The doors opened, revealing the long corridor with the bright glass opening at its far end. The psychiatrist motioned Yaeko out with a resigned sweep of his arm, following her as the doors behind them rumbled closed. When they came to the glass door at the far end of the hall he knelt before her, his face very serious. He said:

“I must accept, I suppose, that there are people out there who, when shown the pleasant, easy valleys through Himalaya-sized challenges, will opt to climb the peaks every time instead of walking through those valleys. Valleys that professionals like me are supposed to point out.” He sighed and then reached for Yaeko’s hand, which was resting on a wheel, grasping it tightly. “It shouldn’t surprise me about you,” he went on. “I should’ve known when you refused to put handles on the back of this wheelchair. Nobody’s going to push Yaeko Mitsaki; she’ll do it on her own. It’s in your music too—that utter defiance, that integrity, that refusal to back down from the challenge of the extraordinary, the impossible…. I love your music, Yaeko. I haven’t ever told you that, but I do…. I remember an interview from a couple years ago with your teacher, Amon Fujiwara … He told the interviewer that you would spend months on a single difficult phrase, or even just a single note or two—until you were pleased with how it sounded inside the composition. You never backed down. I remember him saying he learned more about playing violin by teaching you than he ever could just by practicing it alone. And if I remember correctly, Amon himself was considered one of Japan’s finest violinists, yes?”

When Yaeko nodded, the psychiatrist rose to his feet, releasing her hand. He cupped her cheek. He smiled wistfully, then said: “It’s a beautiful day—and another great mountain awaits you. Go, my friend. I’ll clear your absences with your Independent Living teacher. And—I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” And with that, the psychiatrist left her, his fading footsteps sounding like hard-boiled eggshells cracking on the cold white tile of the hallway’s floor.

Goldie said...

Infidel – My Life Author Ayaan Hirsi Ali
Page 123 – I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this: a prosperous, self-confident stepmother with a government job.


I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this: a prosperous, self-confident stepmother with a government job. My father re-married soon after my mother had died from a long illness. I was outraged. He hadn’t waited long enough and it didn’t seem right; somehow disrespectful. Now, here I was at the airport meeting this woman for the first time.

I had refused to go to their wedding and he told me all about her last night. He me gave an enthusiastic report, singing her praises, but of course he was a man in love. Previously I did not want to listen to his zealous descriptions and had walked away leaving him bewildered and upset. She was due to arrive home from England where she had been on business. He convinced me I should come to the airport to meet her. I softened and agreed that I would. I had mixed feelings. One part of me told me I should be happy for my father, as he’d no longer by lonely. The other outraged part said he was unfaithful to poor Mama who had suffered so much and I was not going to like this woman one bit. If I did, I’d be letting Mama down.

She met us in the airport lounge and kissed my father lovingly before she turned to face me.
‘Hullo, Amelia, I’ve heard all about you and I’m pleased to meet you,’ she said as she reached over and shook my hand. I bristled and didn’t answer. Her hand was warm and soft, but her handshake was firm. Her perfume, a warm floral scent, misted around her.

‘Sometimes it’s hard when circumstances change isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Come, we’ll have coffee and talk. We walked together to a coffee shop while my father collected her luggage.

‘How are your children?’ she asked after we were seated and having our coffee ‘I believe you have a boy and a girl?’

‘They’re fine, thank you,’ I mumbled staring down at my coffee cup.

‘You know Amelia, I love your father and I too have lost a marriage partner because of sickness. Please be happy for us,’ she pleaded and smiled at me.

It was at that moment I felt I was going to like her even though it was against my resolve to do so, for when she smiled, it was as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud on a wintry day. Her green eyes glowed with kindness and her mouth turned up at the corners in an appealing way.

Something deep inside told me this woman had character and integrity. I knew then that everything would be all right.

For blue skies. said...

Part 3: Badoom

how inspiring...?

Tracy said...

"Probably both suspecting each other and keeping apart - and life so very short." (From The Tuesday Club Murders, by Agatha Christie)

She flipped through the last pages of the magazine before tossing it aside. The waiting room was empty. The receptionist at the desk worked quietly behind the closed glass window, her belly big - evidence of the baby she was carrying.

Mary sighed, her own possible pregnancy a long-shot at this point. At forty-four, her fertility was waning - add to it the lack of a viable father - and she felt as though she would never experience the magic of carrying her own child, the lucky pain of bringing him or her into this world, or the joy of raising and guiding a new human life on this fragile planet.

She observed the receptionist with a cruel eye. She didn't note a band on her finger. Was she also a client? Would she also carry a child that had been placed inside her through artificial means? Had her body accepted this form of reproduction? And why her? She was only a receptionist. What kind of life could she offer to a beautiful, new life, ready to be shaped, and nurtured.

Mary reached for a second magazine, throwing an angry look towards the receptionist as the young girl looked up and smiled...

***

Amy's fingers froze on her keyboard as she gazed out through the reception window. The last patient of the day, Mary Bly, shot her a dirty look. Amy wished she had Mary's life - her clothes were proof of a rich wardrobe. Oh to have that kind of money! She would not want for anything, and life would be so easy.

Amy's shoulders twitched as she looked back at her computer screen, her personal email account open:

"Dear Mom,

I know I haven't sent an email in awhile, but things haven't been going well. I know I should call, but it's easier this way. I'm pregnant, and I don't know what to do. I can barely afford to take care of my darling babies now. Please don't ask about the father. He's not going to help out either.

I don't know what to do. What do I do?"


***

"Mary?" a nurse called as she opened the door into the waiting room.

"I'm the only one here," Mary mumbled as she rose, slinging her purse over her shoulder. She walked through the door and past the receptionist, who again offered a slight smile.

"You must be one of the lucky ones," Mary said tightly as she passed.

Amy's smile faded as she pressed 'send'. "I guess," she whispered.