Defying Gravity

Ozlem Yikici recently issued a Triptych Trials Challenge. I was too busy to participate in the last one she issued but since I have met my word count goals for the past few days, I let myself have a little break from novel writing to participate this time.

Her challenge is truly a challenge and I am not sure whether or not my piece works for it but here are the rules:

You can chose any of the prompts she has issued which include this picture:

The following few lines of poetry:

Tear out a page of the book and make an aeroplane.
Launch it.  For an instant it seems that you have fashioned
A shape that can outwit air, that has slipped the knot.
But no.  The earth turns, the winch tightens, it is wound in.

-Defying Gravity by Roger McGough

or a mannerism art movement piece. The word count limit is 500-1000 words in the genre of your choice. She has given us until the end of the month to complete the challenge.

I was inspired by the picture and the lines of poetry to create the following very short written piece. It is not in my usual style and it is a bit abstract but it was fun to do.

Defying Gravity

I drifted off to sleep in the shade of protective St Paul’s, it’s one of my favourite haunts to visit whenever I was in the city, its age and beauty always made me feel humbled. Across my lap was spread my charity shop bought copy of Roger McGough’s, Defying Gravity, I always fancied myself a scholar but instead I went to the school of life, having spent most of my life on a fishing boat .

As I relaxed, my body melted into a watery puddle on the ground and flowed like the Thames.

A young girl skipped by and scooped a bit of me up with the tip of her bubble wand.

Freely soaring above the London skyline, I rose higher and higher.

I was defying gravity.

I arrived at my destination and I danced graciously with the gods, getting the feeling my life would never be the same again. I wanted to remain with them in that high place forever and ever.

Then gravity won.

As the air inside of me was expelled rapidly, I fell lower and lower.

A bird flew by and I landed temporarily on its wing, I beaded together and slid off.

I tensed as I hit the water’s surface, the force submerged me and once again I was whole.

As I awoke, I gasped for breath, relieved that I was once again in my beloved Venice, the canal was my home, it always made me feel anchored. My cat curled up across my lap was startled by my sudden movement. Soon I would retire, twenty-five years as an academic dean had taught me that a simple life spent fishing was what I wanted to do with my remaining years.