Alphabet Challenge

Another Tuesday Group challenge:

Write a piece using at least one word starting with each letter of the alphabet. The challenge must not be visible, the words must be used in such a way that the casual reader does not notice they are reading a challenge piece.

Clear water stretching out, as far as I could see in every direction.

Aurora Moon was a great little boat.

Yar as my more experienced yachting neighbours would say. Couldn’t really get into all the fancy parties and elitist chat myself. I like words, yar was a particularly good one, sleek and quick to the helm to quote the screen siren Grace Kelly in that movie, can’t think of the name but it was a remake of the Philadelphia Story. But words are for communicating, I don’t like using words to show off. To quote another actress “Pretenscious? Moi.” Yachting language is so nuvo riche, a great joke, but they probably wouldn’t get it. But I just don’t want to get into that kind of ridiculous war.

They remind me of the horsey set. Awful accents, cliques and a complete lack of interest in the beauty of the sport they are only involved with because it is expensive.

When I ride I want to feel the freedom, commune with nature, communicate with a being of another species.

 

I don’t want to prattle endlessly about inconsequential nothings, like how unique your ‘mount’ is, because he has a spot one fifteenth of an inch from his tail, now if you want to talk about where he always seems to want to veer off or any unusual quirk of personality I’m listening. You want spots get a marker.

A jovial chat with another horse lover, especially one who can feel the right time for silence, a particularly beautiful vista, a chance to gallop for instance. That is my ideal companion.

But I don’t care how much your horse cost. My god how gauche, next you’ll be telling me how much your kid cost. Oh home bred, they are practically free I purchased mine from Romania $188000 USD, but … What’s his name is so worth it.

The waves are getting more boisterous as the breeze becomes a zephyr. I need time, time to think, no time to not think. To not think about yesterday’s xray and what it means. I need time to feel the wind in my hair, to hear the gentle lapping of the water , to smell the brine, to taste the salt water spray to see nature at its zenith without civilizations omnipresence.

The jangling cacophony of our world, like a toy xylophone in the hands of a hyperactive toddler, constant discordant and painful. The constant light pollution and jumble of colours and patterns, zig zagging, moving an assault to the eyes.

The artificial stench of chemicals, the stultifying sweetness of processed food. The air palpable with toxins.

Why did we let this happen?

And if I don’t have the surgery, if I don’t take that risk, that is all I will have. No freedom on horseback, no sailing alone. Not an invalid but…

That’s it, Give me liberty or give me death. I won’t cancel the surgery tomorrow. Now since this may be the last time I am out here alone it is time to clear my mind… and drift with the tide.