On Eagles' Wings

After staring at the webpage, unblinking, for the past few minutes, it’s now entirely a blur. I blink, and the small box in the corner seemed to dance in front of my eyes, inviting.   I take a deep breath, and release it with a hiss between my teeth. I swallow.  What do I have to lose?   Finally, I click on the box, and it pops up.   Hi, there. I’m Z. What should I call you?   Hi, Z. I’m Celine.   Hi, Celine. How can I help you today?   I pause for a moment, wondering if I should tell this stranger the truth. Something feels like it’s stuck in my throat, and I try desperately to clear it, unsuccessfully.   I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Can we just chat?   Sure, Celine. I understand. We can chat about anything you’d like. Well, how was your day?   My day? It’s been a tough one, that’s for sure. In fact, it’s been a tough week.  I scratch the top of my head, try to untie a knot I discovered in my hair, and give up.   It was okay, I guess. Not so good.   Why’s that?   I have a diffi

Date: 14 th Mar, 2023, Tue Writing Prompt: Dancing Shoes   ***   The attic smells of damp, and nostalgia. There’s a window on the far end, but the sunlight is mostly obstructed by an old wardrobe that looks quite apologetic, its doors bent, and its hinges exposed. So, Lynn turns on the light, the brightness revealing just how much of a mess it is, and gingerly makes her way through the minefield of boxes, tables, and knick-knacks.   Lynn knew her grandmother, whom she called Gran, pretty well, and knowing her, she’d have chucked all the things that were oldest the furthest in, and then just slowly piled on the rest as they came. Her Gran wasn’t the most organized person, obviously, but she has to admit, it is a legit method of organization. It at least gives her an idea where to first look for what she’s searching for.   She pushes some stacked chairs aside, and after a moment’s hesitation, hops over a large wooden chest, one that looks like a pirate’s, like it could possibly hold tr

Date: 13 th Mar, 2023, Mon Writing Prompt: Alarm Clock   ***   It’s an ugly thing, for sure. Somebody gave it to me as a gift, probably someone cheap. Was it for a birthday? I can’t remember. I wouldn’t have used it if my old one hadn’t been broken, coincidentally.   It’s a digital one. Super plain. Just a rectangular face, black all over, with brightly lit red numbering. Boring.   I never thought much about it, just used it out of necessity. But tomorrow, it’s super important that I wake up on time. So, I’m setting the alarm, and I’ll try to get some sleep.   12:10AM   Serves me right for watching that series just before bedtime, the one called You . Part 2 was just out, and I couldn’t resist. I knew it was going to mess with my head. It’s so dark and twisted. But I couldn’t help it. What is it about these psychopathic serial killers that is just so entertaining to watch?   I wish I could have just killed all the people who tortured me, especially the ones when I was growing up. The

Date: 11 th Mar, 2023, Sat Writing Prompt: Cosy Nights   ***   The fire dances, crackling happily as it nibbles on the logs. The room is dark, except for the light from the fireplace; it’s the old-fashioned kind, with an exposed brick frame, and a poker standing by its side.   Megan and Zack sit side by side, their arms touching, their feet cocooned together under a plaid blanket, covering up to their thighs. Megan has her cup of hot chocolate nestled between her brought-up knees, her hands hidden under long sleeves as she cradles it while Zack has his settled on the carpet beside him. She blows on the surface, and takes a tentative sip; the steam fogs up her glasses, but it only takes a few seconds to clear.   The microwave hums in the corner in the tiny kitchenette, warming up the lasagne that Megan just loves, and Zack tolerates. But he has to admit, the smell of chicken and cheese is tantalising, making him salivate. Just a couple more minutes.   Megan rests her head on his left s

 Date: 7 th Mar, 2023, Tue Writing Prompt: Refreshed   ***   Ah. Lavender. Lemongrass. Jasmine. They smell absolutely divine .   I close my eyes, and breathe in the scents. I feel them enter my nostrils, and somehow fill my entire body, like a large warm comforter, enveloping me in calm, my body turning to jelly.   As I inhale deeply, lying flat on my stomach, in the background, I hear the tinkle of chimes, melodious xylophones, even the soft rattle of the angklung , reminding me of that crazy trip to Bali with my girlfriends for graduation.   For the first time then, I had let loose, and it was the best time of my life.   I had paid for it when I came back though, when he found out, but it was worth it. Just like I will probably pay for this later today. I push the thought aside, and let out a breath I am not aware I’m holding.   A few minutes pass. I feel utterly relaxed, and laugh to myself, thinking, At this point, they could do anything to me, and I’

Date: 6th Mar, 2023, Mon Writing Prompt: Last Person *** Traffic jam. Again. A super loud honk from the car ahead pierced my eardrums, sending a shooting pain through my skull. What now? I wondered, but wasn’t entirely invested in it. The driver in front must have been dreaming, or more likely texting on the phone, and not moved when he (or she) was supposed to. Not that I’ve…never done that myself before. I stared at the red lights in between the swipes of the windshield wipers until they became blurry, then rubbed my hands down my face. It’s been a really long day at the office, and I thought I could have avoided the jam by leaving late. But of course, it had to rain, and there had to be an accident along the route home… So here I am. I could feel my eyelids fluttering closed, and I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Just hang on till we get home, I thought. Then a quick hot shower and bed, before it all begins again tomorrow. I sighed. Sometimes I wonder if

Date: 5th Mar, 2023, Sun Writing Prompt: Coffee or Tea *** She was sitting by the window as she always did. Somehow, the seat there was always available when she stopped by. The drink menu was open before her, her eyes on it, but she wasn’t seeing the words. There was a sudden waft of freshly baked pastries, croissants, it seems, and she was very tempted to get them. But she’d told herself, no tidbits, just a drink today. Even though she was hungry, she didn’t think it would be a good idea to eat anything that might mess up her lipstick. She wanted her lips to pop, draw in, entice. There was a ping on her phone, and she looked at it. Nick had texted her. “Free for a drink?” it said. “I was hoping to talk to you.” She sighed. She knew what it was going to be about. But, to be frank, she wasn’t really interested. She hadn’t been interested the last time, and things hadn’t really changed since. She wanted desperately for him to understand that, but he just didn’t. Some may admire his pers