Rebirth

‘Resurrection’ was a potential title for my last blog post which I discarded. At the time, however, I knew of another piece that I was planning to write where it might fit. And now that it’s come time to do it, I’ve passed over the name once more in preference for this one. Such is the creative process.

I originally cracked this ultra-short piece out with a deadline in mind, October 31st, because, as everyone knows, November is NaNoWriMo. And once that started there was no hope of publishing this mini piece until way after NaNo was done and dusted.

Below is the piece as well as the accompanying art. When I posted it on my Instagram account, each sentence was actually a caption to the accompanying latte art that I had poured for the purpose of making one giant latte art. And by giant, I mean 3×3 photos. This was my take on those other Instagrammers that took a single photo and cut it up to publish as 9 consecutive posts, something that is easily done with some app, I’m sure. My version is a far more ambitious twist on that, a reversal, in fact.

It was fun because it was like flash fiction, quick and with little commitment, but refined to pack maximal punch, combined with another fun thing I do in life and in my café job.

Without further ado,

REBIRTH

From the pyre of his rebirth, he rose with a scream triumphant.

Tail lashing, he shot upwards, sparks riding in his wake.

The spectacular plumes used in courting streamed behind, like bright ribbons proclaiming his arrival.

At the peak of his ascent, the phoenix spread his wings, catching the bonfire’s updraft.

The heat lifted his spirit, washing away memories of the twilight years of his previous life, filling him anew with the fresh fire of youth.

Rainbow-hued secondaries flared, sprays of colour that would identify a phoenix to his mate,

Orange and gold wingtips stroked the air, tongues of fire licking, hungry.

He swept his gaze across stars and beach, where the bonfire began to smoulder.

Where was she who had prepared his pyre? Instead of a courting dance it seemed that first there must be a hunt.

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On A Roll

The past few days I’ve been able to write a consistent amount each day, usually for a couple of hours. The venue has been changing, earlier in the week at a temple on the open terrace, more recently in one park or another, on top of a hill. It’s something that I want to keep up while I have momentum.

At first I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about but I had a few things in mind. I wrote them all down in a rough list on the page. In the end I’m not sure why I picked the one I picked but it probably didn’t really matter. The main thing was just to start writing.

I only had a little idea of what I wanted to write about with the two characters but once I’d started writing about them it started to flow. Even when I came to a bit of a roadblock, not knowing where they should go next, something I’d written would guide me to where the story would go. It’s almost as if the story was writing itself, as cliché as that is.

And as I wrote it seemed that ideas would bubble to the surface, connections to other ideas I had floating around in my head. It seemed that my subconscious had been busy plotting while I wasn’t looking. Things that had been bouncing around my head for quite some time were finding their places and I am finally getting them down in prose.

Just a happy little discovery on the journey to become a writer.