We caught every downpour on our way to Québec.
Thunder rumbled overhead where dark clouds gathered and lightning flashed, the greyness seeping into our Honda Civic through the windshield washed with rain. Watery needles pummeled our car’s metal shell with deep reverberations so strong they reached my toes. It was nature’s drum beat, our background music. The radio, muffled as it was, tried to receive both French and English-speaking stations until it picked up pure static and died, leaving my only reprieve the droplets happily racing across my window.
I challenged myself with writing a vignette. I spent a couple of days on the Internet trying to understand what exactly is a vignette. I’m still not absolutely sure, but from what I gathered, it’s a small descriptive piece of writing that puts the reader into the setting. There is no end or beginning, nor is there plot. It’s just supposed to…exist and set the mood? They are compact and shouldn’t include anything that slows the pace. Vignettes could be found stand-alone or as part of a story.
With this, my week here is done. Sora, I’m passing the baton to you! Your prompt from me is: You look ahead at an endless path (you choose what type, be it a paved road, an unmarked one, a body of water, space, etc. Up to you). Where are you coming from? What are you leaving behind?
Look forward to next week, when our in-house poet takes the stage with the skills of a Renaissance woman!
Weekly Wanders of Waking Writers 