Raw Earth Ink
spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
The Higher Call
Posted on October 18, 2019 by tara caribou
He dips his pen into the inkwell. Lifts it carefully, tapping it gently on the edge of the jar before moving back to his paper. His fingertips, forever stained with the heavy black ink, never hesitate. Not a moment passes where there aren’t thoughts and ideas swirling inside his heart and mind, stories to be told in a few short lines. There’s a old wooden clock on the wall ticking away the moments he’ll never see again. His writing quickens. So many things to say. He knows he’ll write until there’s no more strength in his fingers. Other than the clock, it’s just the scratching of the nib you hear. Periodically punctuated with ejaculations of fury or a sharp bark of laughter. In the corner sits a worn teddy bear on a three-legged stool. It’s soft tan fur now matted and thin. It once held the affections of the little boy who used to sit in the very same place, silently watching his poppa create. His light brown eyes always observing, absorbing, but he never did learn how to speak. He hasn’t sat on the stool for decades while the aged man he once watched still writes and writes and writes.
tara caribou | ©2019
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Category: Flash FictionTags: 200 Word Story, Author, Character Sketch, Flash Fiction, Life, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Poet, Prose, Relationship, Writer, Writing
Raw Earth Ink 
very random and thought provoking … where did this come from? sounds inspired by something personal and a little unusual?
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Just strange little scenes I see in my mind and feel compelled to write out.
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that was really nice Tara!
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Thanks Frank! I’m glad you liked it.
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Oh so Deep. Nice piece of your thoughts,
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Thanks John! I’m glad you liked this.
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Love it! I can see him sitting there while the silent teddy bear is watching! Well done.
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Thank you Dwight!
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Great vivid snapshot! A writer’s work is never done 🙂
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Yes! That’s so true.
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I really identify with this piece!
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That’s wonderful Chris! To have it resonate with you makes my day.
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