This first challenge has two parts. You may do both parts or just one. Your choice.
August 19 - SPECTACULAR SETTINGS.
For this challenge you will be asked:
1. to share with us a
paragraph from a novel, or an extract from a poem, or a photograph that stopped
your heart with a spectacular setting etc.
2. then you will
describe to us how your chosen 'setting' spoke to you. Why did you like it?
3. then you have the
option to:
1. write your own
'setting' piece in any genre, or
2. write your own poem
which highlights 'setting' in some way, or
3. share a photograph
that blows you away every time you look at it and tell us why.
4. share an artwork
that shows a 'setting' you love and tell us why you love it.
5. write a small
playscript which is all about 'setting'.
Remember, setting
is both place and time.
Many thanks go to our hosts Denise Covey and Yolanda Renee for re-establishing WEP, a bi-monthly writing challenge, they work very hard to ensure everything runs as smoothly as possible.
Here is my contribution:
PART ONE:
 |
| Picture courtesy of the internet |
Heidi By Johanna Spryi
CHAPTER 1
UP THE MOUNTAIN TO ALM-UNCLE
From the old and pleasantly situated village of Mayenfeld, a footpath
winds through green and shady meadows to the foot of the mountains, which on
this side look down from their stern and lofty heights upon the valley below. The land grows gradually wilder as the path
ascends, and the climber has not gone far before he begins to inhale the
fragrance of the short grass and sturdy mountain plants, for the way is steep
and leads directly up to the summits above.
I read Heidi as a young
girl, probably nine or ten years old.
The description of a path leading up to a mountain took my imagination
as something I had never experienced and probably never would.
The language is quite
simple but has enough, almost exotic, vocabulary about it to appeal to a young
girl’s imagination, ‘stern and lofty heights’ – ‘inhale the fragrance of the
short grass.’
It was only in books
that I could realise the potential of such words and try and use them in my
everyday language, not that that went down well with my peers who thought I was
a bit of a snob.
As the story proceeds
it becomes clear that this idyllic route to the top is going to change a little
girl’s life in ways unimaginable.
On a clear sunny morning in June two figures might be seen climbing the
narrow mountain path, one, a tall strong-looking girl, the other a child whom
she was leading by the hand, and whose little cheeks were so aglow with heat
that the crimson colour could be seen even through the dark, sunburnt
skin. And this was hardly to be wondered
at, for in spite of the hot June sun the child was clothed as if to keep off
the bitterest frost. She did not look
more than five years old, if as much, but what her natural figure was like
would have been hard to say, for she had apparently two, if not three dresses,
one above the other, and over these a thick red woollen shawl wound round about
her, so that the little body presented a shapeless appearance, as, with its
small feet shod in thick, nailed mountain-shoes, it slowly and laboriously
plodded its way up in the heat. The two
must have left the valley a good hour’s walk behind them, when they came to the
hamlet known as Dorfli which is situated half-way up the mountain. Here the wayfarers met with greetings from
all sides, some calling to them from windows, some from open doors, others from
outside, for the elder girl was now in her old home,. She did not, however, pause in her walk to
respond to her friends’ welcoming cries and questions, but passed on without
stopping for a moment until she reached the last of the scattered houses of the
hamlet. Here a voice called to her from
the door. “Wait a moment, Dete; if you
are going up higher, I will come with you.”
The power of words can
conjure up fantastic images, spectacular settings and along with an image, as
on the cover of this particular book, a story to unfold.
I only wish I still had
my childhood copy of the book. I do have
a copy downloaded on to my Kindle for posterity’s sake.
PART TWO:
SPECTACULAR
SETTINGS
This picture
plucks at my heart strings. It is a
picture of a very dear little boy plus the added spectacle of the sea meeting
the sky. To me, it is very evocative. The
freedom and joy expressed in the little boy’s stance is priceless.
THE BEACH
Different
hues of blue spread across the horizon, the sun glinted and sparkled on the
water, shining like diamonds on crests of gentle rippling waves. The horizon stretched out as far as the eye
could see, the sky a cloudless azure, a perfect summer’s day.
It
wasn’t very often a day like this happened in the UK. Molly had decided to make the most of this
rare opportunity, packed up her large, cavernous stripy bag, stuffing in suntan
lotion, bottles of water, wet wipes, nappies, a change of clothing, snacks and
treats, her mobile phone (most important) a couple of towels and various other
must-haves for a day at the beach.
After
settling down in a sunny spot, she slathered his arms and legs and nose with
Factor 50, as he protested and squirmed with lots of laughter and tickles along
the way but she must protect her blonde, blue eyed baby boy from the ravages of
the depleted ozone layer. She jammed his sun hat on his head, turned him
towards the shingle and let him go.
She
let Timmy run loose where she could keep her eye on him because if you gave her
18 month old toddler an inch then he would gaily and cheerfully take the mile.
His
little legs toddled off, his arms came up, his hands fisted in joy as he kicked
out with his legs finding running a bit more difficult over the pebbles than
running around on a floor or the paved courtyard at home.
Molly
could hear his squeals of delight as he spied the water. Luckily there was a drop down to the beach
before the tide met the sand so if he took it into his head to go charging
towards the salty water she would be able to catch him and bring him back to
safety.
Crossing
her legs into a quasi lotus position Molly reached into her bag for her
tobacco. Keeping a beady eye on her
youngster she rolled a cigarette and thought she would add a little magic to it
this morning. They planned to stay on
the beach for several hours so she would be safe to drive back home later.
Taking
a well earned puff, she exhaled slowly as her thoughts turned to more than a
year ago when her labour pains began nearly two months early. Living in a hamlet in a headland on the south
east coast of England, sheltered in an area of low-lying land, meant that a
journey to the nearest hospital would take 40 minutes. Luckily her good neighbour bundled her and
her partner, along with her own young son, into her car and drove as quickly
and as safely as possible to the hospital.
Frantic
calls to the imminent grandparents ensued but young Timmy decided he wouldn’t
wait for anybody. After a couple of days
in an incubator and a couple of weeks in the special care unit Molly was able
to bring her small baby home.
She
waved to him as he called to her, pointing to something he saw out on the sea,
his bright inquisitive eyes spotting something only visible to him. Perhaps it was a glint from the sun making a
shape of a whale or something similar.
Mellowing
out and relaxing her mind further Molly now considered her future. She had a major decision to make and although
most of her mind was made up she tried to consider all aspects. It really wasn’t going to be an easy
decision.
Pros
and cons, what-ifs, maybes, should she and, most importantly, could she make a
life if she took this course of action. Molly
knew she would upset a lot of people by taking this decision but her main
concern would be to ensure Timmy had a loving home life, his relations around
him and that she had a good support network.
She
unfurled her limbs, stood up and stretched in to a yoga pose she used to do, elongating
her back and folding her waist over to reach down to her feet. As she rose again she saw Timmy’s quizzical
face in her eye line.
Jabbering
away in what she termed ‘Timmy-speak’ he pulled at her shorts making her come
with him and pointing to the sea. Molly
picked him up in her arms and pulled his trainers and socks off, slipped her
own sandals off on to the rug, adjusting Timmy’s weight in her arms a bit more
securely, they made their way over the shingle to the edge of the water.
Timmy
squealed as she dangled his feet in the salty water. She placed him down on his two feet, gripping
his hand tightly, much to his protests, as a gentle ripple washed over her
larger feet and his tiny, white feet.
A
piece of brown seaweed became entangled inbetween Molly’s toes, cold and
squidgy and lumpy; she let go briefly of Timmy’s hand to disengage the smelly
algae from between her toes.
Down
he went on hands and knees, full face into the briny liquid. Molly scooped him up as he spluttered all
over her; she brushed the water from his eyes and pushed his hair back on his
forehead.
‘Again,
mummy, again,’ came the delighted shouts.
Nothing
fazed this boy of hers. He had no cares
in his little world, he cried, he was picked up, he was hungry, he was fed
along with all the other caring aspects of tending to a toddler. If only her
own life was that simple.
Back
on the rug, cuddled into her, her sleepy boy nodded off. Molly took the opportunity to gaze out to the
sea, the horizon a line divided by two colours of blue, meeting far out. She knew there was more out there, she knew
there was another life waiting for her.
Did
she have the courage? Should she wait
and see if things got better? Did she
want them to get better? She must find
an answer soon.
Word
count: 1002
