Sarah put up some musical prompts for writing to today. I've never done this before and it was fun. There were 2 different pieces:
I want to fly, to feel the breeze stroking my armpits, my hair sleeked back from my forehead by the thin wisps of clouds rushing through it, my arms stretched wide, finger tips and toes pointed. My neck is free of weight, looking ahead, not down at the land beneath, at the shifting horizon because I'm going fast now. And there are trees; tiny and still, yes, I have a real different sense of perspective because I remember how from the ground they were heavy and foreboding and rustled in the gales. Up here there is no weather as such, just air, light and coolness.
I'm feeling threatened, it's dark. There are brick walls, dirty from the bottom up, they're chipped at the corners. At the end of each alleyway, there promises to be a light but when I get there, its corner is as dark as the last one. In the distance I can hear raucous, drunken laughter, I smell wisps of cigar smoke, doors closing and muffled screeches of tyres. A cat startles me by jumping from the top of a wall on to a metal dustbin. It lands on the edge of the dustbin lid which couldn't have been on properly as the cat clatters to the ground, meows and streaks off into the gutter. There is a rustle of paper from the dustbin, the tinkle of cans being disturbed and three rats run over the top edge, down its side; their smooth movements belie the existence of their feet and they all run in unison, synchronized and I wonder if it's just habit or calculated. The rats have gone and I am scared because I can't remember which direction I came from. I don't want to have to wait here for sunrise.