A prompt piece I wrote for my prompt group: Hand Pen Gauntlet The metal hand pen gauntlet fell off the table, onto the ground and rolled. I glanced down at my feet where it thudded to a stop. My fingers tapped my chin; should I pick it up or not? I had picked up the gauntlet for several years now, again and again. My arms tired of picking up the heavy metal off the ground. The stress of working day and night toward my dream of writing my book took its toll on my mind. I wouldn’t let this gauntlet slide pass me one iota. I gathered my strength to battle once again. The challenge didn’t bother me at all, but picking up the heavy metal of a pen sure did. I decided to put the gauntlet on my hand and arm, it fit like a glove. It tightened around me and I felt the creativeness of words swell up in my heart and mind, of the stories I would tell and the written work dictated that I should press on toward the higher mark of the challenge. When I finished working for the day, the arm piece slid off my arm. The next day, the metal hand pen gauntlet fell again. © Mary Knuckles.
Posted on: Sun, 31 Aug 2014 15:48:20 +0000
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