Today’s writing prompt: Seeing red.
Photo credits:
Red door – Colby Drake
Children and backpacks – Kent Sorensen
Holiday table – Laura Plunk Davis
Coffee – Laura Plunk Davis
Holiday scene – Jane Person
Red car – Marlene Cullen
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Elizabeth Beechwood
Seeing Red
In the darkest deep time of the year,
In the blinding white fields of snow,
In the evergreen forests,
I see red.
I see the red of holly berries,
And poinsettias and velvet ribbons,
And innocent birthing blood in the hay,
Giving hope in the blackest of nights.
mcullen Post author
I love this exquisite writing, Elizabeth. You say much in few words. I enjoy the visuals. . . I can see these scenes. “And the innocent birthing blood in the hay, Giving hope in the blackest of nights.” Wow! Gorgeous writing. Smiling here.
Elizabeth Beechwood
Thanks, Marlene!
James Seamarsh
It swam across my vision, a wisp of reddish-brown smoke, then swirled as I turned my eye to try to see what it was. The blood seeped within the clear fluid, shifting and spinning with every flick of my eye.
“That’s strange,” I mumbled.
“What?”
My wife was watching cable, back-to-back episodes of some real estate reality show. I shifted my eyes left, right, left. The swirl was beautiful, and reminded me of a murder mystery special effect.
“Something’s happened to my eye,” I said.
I was looking up, because the white ceiling made a better backdrop, studying the flow of two fluids mixing. I recognized my intellectual curiosity. It was my unemotional brain taking over as a defense mechanism.
“I’ve seen floaters before,” I said, “but this is… more.”
My wife muted the television, turned to look at me. I didn’t lower my eyes, just kept staring at the ceiling.
“Call Kaiser,” she said.
She knew me well enough to make it a command rather than a question. Her tone added to my growing fear of the unknown. I stood and walked to the phone. The concern I saw on her face reminded me to stay calm. I smiled, but felt the lie at the corners of my mouth.
I ignored the brownish haze filling my right eye and tried to make out the tiny markings on the back of my health insurance card. Unable to read the phone number, I pulled on my reading glasses and forced myself to focus. Even so, I was only able to remember and dial one digit at a time.
After a brief wait, and a short conversation with the nurse, I was talking with a doctor.
“You need to go in to the emergency room,” he said. “Your retina may be torn. If it’s not taken care of, you could have a detached retina.”
I was used to medical exaggeration. Lawsuits tended to encourage doctors to give very conservative advice. I knew the drill.
“Can it wait until morning?”
It was Friday night and I didn’t really want to spend hours in the hospital emergency room waiting for a doctor to tell me I was fine, exposing myself to who-knows-what diseases.
“I wouldn’t advise it,” he said. “You could lose the sight in your eye.”
Silence.
My heart beat faster. I realized I was taking shallow breaths and took a long deep one, which ended as a sigh. He must have heard my indecision.
“If you don’t go in to the emergency room, at least lie down facing up. It will put less pressure on the torn retina, if there is one,” he said. “But tomorrow morning you have to go and see a doctor.”
I hung up the phone.
“I have to go to the emergency room,” I whispered.
My wife stood up, got her coat, and without a word waited for me by the front door.
I fought back my anxiety and frustration as I headed out the door for yet another trip to the emergency room, as if getting out of bed each morning weren’t reminder enough that I was old, that I was going to die some day, that I needed the help of someone else along the way.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be silly,” she said.
mcullen Post author
Yikes! I was moving right along with the narrator. . .seeing those red swirly, floating things. A scary thought. You expertly captured the sights and emotions of this scene. Phew!
Kathy Myers
I’m always amazed at what a simple prompt can trigger in the minds of the creative. Elizabeth’s piece provides a distillation of nature by describing vivid images. Other senses tag along as well: the cold of the snow, the velvet touch of the poinsettia leaves, the iron scent of warm birthing blood, the contrast of new life in the dormancy of winter. A masterful piece.
James takes me on a journey from the inside out. He speaks volumes about the nature of the character’s personality, relationships, and fears, with his realistic dialog and situations. I love the detail that the wife was watching “back to back real estate reality shows.” I can relate to the appeal of these shows especially to older women. There is nothing so satisfying as watching the fantasy of shopping for or remodeling a house within the span of a half hour. (It’s my version of porn.) But when she’s faced with the realty of a threat to her husband’s health, she jumps into action. The “Sorry” and “Don’t be silly” says a lot with very few words.
mcullen Post author
Thanks for posting your comments, Kathy. I always like to hear what you have to say. You never disappoint! Love your take on things.