POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE
By Nandy Ekle
I am going to attempt something new each week here. I have a list of story prompts that I want to use for my blogs each week. These are not my original ideas, they are from several lists I have found.
So, here is Number Two. Not sure what to call it, but here goes.
SLEEPLESS (accompanied by a picture of a woman lying on her side on a bed in the dark with her eyes wide open).
One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four sheep, five sheep, six sheep, seven sheep, eight sheep, nine sheep, ten sheep . . .
Nope. Still wide awake. Oh, now my feet itch, but I can’t reach them. I’ll have to sit up and bring my knees to my chest. This is not fun since my knees don’t like to bend that far. But the itch is one of those sharp, SCRATCH ME NOW types of itch. So, I toss the cover off, raise my upper body up while pulling my knees up, and my hand curls into a claw as it zips to the spot. Oh! deep itch, deep scratching, hurts so good.
Okay. I’m now going to try sleeping again. I turn to my right side because that’s where my best sleep is. My left arm is down my side so that my left shoulder is supported. Ah. I am finally comfortable, just warm enough, and my eyes think about closing.
Suddenly, my right shoulder feels like a rusty nail has been pounded directly through the joint. The pain is unbearable and I have to turn to my other side. I push the covers off my arms, rotate my hips and shoulders, and lay back down. I pull the covers back up to my ear when I realize my pillow has shifted. Now I have to grab it and reposition it to support my head and neck so my left shoulder is not smashed as much as my right shoulder was, and the shell of my left ear is in the low part of the pillow. It tends to ache in the middle of the night if I don’t.
Now I’m feeling slightly drowsy when heat nearly explodes out of my chest, down my arms to the tips of my fingers. Sweat breaks out on my upper lip, under my arms, and my legs down to my toes. I throw the covers off and flip over to my back. The air around me in the room is icy, but feels like heaven while I ride the heat wave out.
After a few minutes I feel the flame inside me start to wind down. The coldness of the room seeps into my skin and I reach for the cover. Now I must go through the routine of finding the comfort spot on my left side again.
My eyes close and I wait for the bliss of unconsciousness. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four sheep, five sheep, six sheep, seven sheep, eight sheep, nine sheep, ten sheep . . .
Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.