Weekly Writing Challenge: Leave Your Shoes at the Door
I started as I always do, half asleep on Suzanne’s comfortable sofa, listening to her hypnotic, melodious voice. She was moving me backward in time, past my birth in this world to another time, another place, another lifetime. This wasn’t my first past life regression. I’d been down this road before and wondered who — and when — I would be …
– – – – –
Standing on the riverbank. Wiggling my naked brown toes in the long marsh grass, prickly under my bare feet. Doesn’t bother me. My feet are hard from running barefoot, as good as shoe leather. I’m watching the brown, slow-moving river as it rolls along. I live by this river. It’s my friend, my companion. Today, it’s going to give me something special. I am thinking hard about how I’m gonna make it happen. I’m thinking about fish.
The pole is a bit rough in my hands, but it’s perfect for me. It oughtta be. Cause I made it myself from a sapling near my house. More a shack, I guess. Everyone I know lives the same, in some kind of place built of leftover stuff — sheet metal and boards from shipping crates. And anything else we scrounge. You can find all kinds of stuff in the swamp and it’s just amazing how many kinds of scraps you can use to make a home. A nice home. Cozy. Dry in the rain.
The weather is damp and warm and I’m a little sweaty. The air is still. No wind. I like when it’s real quiet. All I hear are humming bugs and a few birds. Sounds I hear all the time, nothing to take my attention away from what I want. A big fat fish. I have a real hankering for fish for tonight’s supper. If I want to eat it, I’ll have to catch it.
Is this a good place? I can tell by looking. If there are rings on the water, that means fish have come up to the top to snap at bugs. Oh! There’s one! Big one, I think. Over there, at the bend where the pool is deep, one of the few deep parts of this muddy old river.
I have to stay quiet. Not scare the fish. Most folks don’t realize it, don’t know fish hear us just fine. You don’t see their ears, but they have’em. All the stuff we say, the noise we make … well, fish know we’re here and swim off if we make a fuss.
I creep over to the pool, grab one of the big wriggly worms from out my pocket. I collected’em early, when the air was cool and damp like night. That’s when the big crawlers come up, before the sun is hot.
All the fish are gonna want this fat worm, just you see.
Plink. In goes the string. I wait. Swoosh the line a little, back and forth. Fish like to chase things. I know.
Aha! I got one! Careful now, careful, slow, bring the head up. Ooh, big one, don’t want to snap the line. Gonna get me some stronger line sometime, when I have a few cents to buy something at the store. Focus, focus, focus.
There he is! Got’em! GOT HIM GOOD! There’s gonna be a fine dinner tonight!
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I loved this! I’ve always been fascinated with past life stories and this one was so especially vivid and colorful. I have so many thoughts/questions. I’d also like to see it fleshed out… is this a real story? I mean, a real story of a past life vision? Is Suzanne a real person? If so, have you seen other lives? (Thanks for participating in this week’s challenge. 😀 )
Yes, it’s a real vision and Suzanne is/was a real person and a good friend. She has gotten old and has a serious degnerative disease that makes communicting with her extremely difficult, but for many years we were close. She taught me a LOT (I actually met her by attending a seminar she held on past life regression). I was her student then her friend.
I have seen three (four? I don’t remember exactly) past lives. Suzanne was VERY good.
I never saw anything traumatic and all my past lives were undramatic. Most people’s are. The most unique life I saw I was as an unmarried business woman in Victorian England, intentionally single at a time when being a single woman was NOT a popular choice. But I’ve never been anyone famous or important.
I have seen people from this life in other roles … Garry, my son, my best friend, my brother — all have appeared in other lives as other relationships. Apparently we reiterate relationships in various incarnations. Souls are linked for reasons we can only guess.
Love to fish, loved this story. I saw your above comment about fleshing it out a little more…maybe a Kindle Single?
I have to see where it’s going … in my head. I’m thinking, though. Thinking thinking …. zzzzz
Love the world you paint there. Beautiful words to create a memorable image.
I wish I had the time to really flush it out. I haven’t seen the whole story in my head, yet. Maybe I will eventually 🙂 Meanwhile, thank you.
Reminds me of Dana Carvey’s bits last night on Leno, including the one about the wisdom of fish who keep falling for the worm bit.
Many things can be said of fish, but high intelligence is not (that I know of) one of them. Maybe someone can do a Hitchcock-take-off called “The Fish” where massed schools of our gilled enemies try to attack us only to discover they can’t breathe the air!