You’ve probably heard me complaining of spending my weekends working on project implementation.  Starting this weekend, I have to go through three weekends’ of project implementation and that does not sound fun at all.  I am basically stranded at home, having conferences after conferences to ensure that installation is carried out successfully without any issue.  I have just ended all of the conferences today.  Luckily, I don’t have any more conference tomorrow.  Everything went pretty smoothly.  Between the conferences, there really wasn’t that much downtime to pass, other than writing a fictional story.  All my family members were out having fun.  My son went skiing at Trollhaugen.  My daughter went skating and then swimming with her dad.  It might seem strange to write fiction to pass one’s downtime between conferences.  I am not fond of writing fiction as I lack creativity.  So, why even try writing one to pass the downtime?  Don’t laugh at me!  Since I lack of creativity, I couldn’t think of anything else to do.   I have two more installations for the following weekends.  Maybe I will complete this story then.  I haven’t thought of the title yet.      

 

Written by Elisa English, all rights reserved

Drafted on 1/29/2011 in Minneapolis. 

 

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Inside the house was utter silence, not a pin drop to be heard.  Came into her view were toys scattered and pieces of paper strewed everywhere.  Uneasiness crept up her spine; she froze for a moment.  Feeling unsettled, she roamed from room to room only to find stillness filling the air.  Frantically, she ran outside into the backyard.  There was neither a rustling of leaves nor a sound obtruding but the deep stilled hush that permeated the woods in this inky blackness.  Fear saturated, she collapsed to the ground, unable to form a coherent thought.  Her world shattered, “Emily. Carly”, reverberating in the air were echoes of her cry.  She awoke with a paralyzing rush of sadness enveloping her, so deeply bone-aching that it was excruciatingly unbearable.  Was this nothing but a dream, this recurring dream which left her intensely perturbed?  This overwhelming sense of loss, agonizingly heart-wrenching, clouded her mind with confusion. 

Outside, the night was still and dark as in her dream, not a trace of light seeping through nor a breath of air stirring.  She stared vacantly into the emptiness where her mind wandered in the impermeable twilight that lay beyond.

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That’s it for now.  I don't have a clear idea of what I wanted to write.  It is just to pass the downtime.  :)       

Written by Elisa English, all rights reserved

Drafted on 1/29/2011 in Minneapolis. 

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