tantewillemijn (tantewillemijn) wrote,

Daily 100 week 1

A few of you may have seen me mention #Daily100 over the last month. What was that all about? Well, a few writing friends and I took up the challenge to write a little something every day for a month. At least a 100 words, not related to any Work In Progress and no serials. Writing on Sunday optional.
I liked these little things so much, I want to share them with you. Here's the result of week one in reverse order.

Saturday 8th

Trude felt the sand underneath her feet as she ran. On the softer stretches it tried to crawl up between her toes as she firmly touched down in her run. The wind made her long white skirt whirl around her legs. She laughed out loud. This felt so good. It was hard for her to distinguish if this was really happening or if she was just dreaming. She had this dream so often.

She could taste the salt of the ocean on her lips. Suddenly she halted and turned towards the water. She made it. Panting she lowered herself on the beach to watch. The sky was exploding in reds, oranges, yellows, and purples. The setting sun set the waves on fire. What was that noise though? It sounded familiar. It installed a sense of urgency in her. Not yet. A few moments more, she begged. The alarm clock would not be denied though.

Friday 7th

I’m just going to be blunt about this. I’m not a summer person. While everyone is happy with the warm weather and runs outside, I tend to hide indoors. And by hide, I mean hide. The kitchen window is open for the cats, but I keep the back door and curtains closed to not hear and not see people. There, I said it.

A few of the kids of my family have their birthdays during the summer months, resulting in garden parties. I usually wiggle my way around that by telling them I am working the night shifts and need to sleep. I mostly am anyway.

And what’s with barbecues? I really don’t get that one. Didn’t we bring that cooking shit inside for a reason?

I get a sunburn within ten minutes. Fifteen if I use sunscreen. I don’t like heat. I am a nerd and have allergies.

I. don’t. like. summer.

Thursday 6th

Loaded and unloaded dishwasher. Did three loads of laundry. Cleaned most of the kitchen. Cleared away the mess my husband leaves here and there. Emptied trash twice. Waited for a package. Tried on new clothes. (two sizes smaller, but hey, they fit) Had breakfast, lunch and dinner. Cleared table after dinner and loaded the dishwasher again. Walked 5.000 steps, wrote over 7.500 words, played and sang a few songs.

Fed the cats and gave the bird clean water. Showered, put on my pyjamas. Stayed up to date with E-mail, Facebook, and Twitter. Watched Masterchef. Went to the bathroom a gazillion times.

And then Husband asked me what I’d been up to today. “Ah, well, you know. Nothing much.”

Wednesday 5th

“Horseshit!” She yelled.

“I think you mean bullshit, Love.” He calmly corrected her.

“I mean horseshit and don’t call me Love!”

He backed away from her a little bit. In all their time together he’d never seen her this angry. And he was lost as to why she was having a go at him.

“I’m only trying to help.”

“No, you’re trying to control me. You’re always trying to control everything.”


“Just shut up. I’m done, I’m out.”

He moved to block the door. “What’s going on here?”

“I’m tired of you deciding what I should wear, where I should keep things and who I should see.”

“I’m only protecting you. You always lose things, I thought giving them a…”

“I don’t lose them. I misplace them, and I always find them. Because they’re MY things.”

“Darling…” He lifted his hands as if to show he had no tricks up his sleeves.

For a split second she stared at his face, doubting between listening to him or giving up.

“Oh, stuff it.” She whirled around him, walked out and slammed the front door behind her.

At her car she searched through her purse. In the end she emptied the contents on the roof of her car. Things rolled to all sides. In a reflex she tried to save them. Her lipstick rolled down and hit the pavement. It broke open. The vibrant red formed a sharp contrast to the grey it smashed upon. He had given it to her.

She heard the front door open. Frantically her hands searched amongst her possessions. Crap. Where did she leave her car keys?

Tuesday 4th

The view was nice. From her seat by the window she saw it all. Who arrived and went back out. The bus stops and shops across the street. School kids with headphones on, chewing gum, lost to the world. The women with their prams and screaming toddlers. She couldn’t hear them of course. Hearing had been gone for years. Besides, she would be too far up to hear them.

She remembered having a life once, a long time ago. These days all she ever did was wait. Wait for lunch, for dinner. Wait for the nurse to help her to bed and in the morning back out. And the big wait. Waiting for Death. At some point in life it was all that was left. Waiting. All day long. Just waiting.

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