This week, make a forceful case for… something.
My uterus, my decision.
In the beginning I would like to thank all wise and startlingly male commentators regarding the abortion law that is maintained in Poland. Your opinion is so valuable, I’m sure, since you have uteruses, jajniki and periods each month yourselves, you regularly go into labor every 9 months, you can really appreciate poor females situation. I’m so happy that we can properly discus the miracle of labor, of pushing a watermelon through lemon wide channel. It’s nice that you know how comfortable it feels to have a body squirm on your bladder and the crazy hormones induced morning sickness. It’s also heartwarming that you feel the pain and shock of damaged life that suddenly is located inside your body. Not to mention that you can relate to the forced intercourse, when another man pushes hard rod inside your delicate organ. Yep, glad that males and females can talk about such experiences as equals.
And now let’s be serious because it’s a serious matter. Polish abortion law is one of the most strict laws in modern Europe. It’s as strict as Irish and Maltan law. And that’s it. In all liberal, democratic and modern countries the government doesn’t stick the nose up women vaginas.
In theory a woman can terminate the pregnancy in three cases: when she was raped, when the pregnancy is threatening her life and if the fetus has a lethal defect. That’s theory. In practice the doctors and pro-life activists will try to deter and postpone the decision until often it is too late.
Now, I’m not intending to persuade anybody to get an abortion. Why? Not because I think it is evil or inhumane or unchristian, but because simply IT IS NOT MY BUSINESS what anybody does to her or his body.
I don’t understand this need to look between our legs and make the space there a public business. It is not public. It’s a private area get that finally!
For today’s challenge, try a twist on a technique Ray Bradbury used to beat writer’s block.
The fog was like a cotton white blanket that hung low over the surface of the lake. The night was dark and damp. The cool air made even the crickets all eerily silent.
In the darkness that surrounded the lake valley, the only source of light was a single lit window. Be brave dear traveller and step through the mists and windows of the universe.
If you hear the fog horn cry, it means you are very late, as late as a White Rabbit was for a Mad Hatter tea party.
Run as fast as you can, cower and jump over the ravine rocks. Try as you can but you can never outrun the deadly pale scythe of fate.
Boarding the night train will scarcely help you, it will only buy you more time. But time is precious isn’t it? And as the carousel of life twists and turns in the brightly coloured carnival of life, no man can forever sit securely in a lush compartment of destiny.
Today, we challenge you to create a compelling setting for your story.
Braxton was a typical small, sleepy town located in a godforsaken part of a prosperous country. It was a home to all sorts of strange individuals as well as some entirely regular folks. They all mingled on the main market square, stopping by a century old wishing well to drop a coin or two out of habit mostly, as no one local believed in superstitions and omens. But it was good for the occasional tourist.
In the early twentieth century Braxton was voted as the most boring and dreary place in this part of a country. The dwellers of Braxton couldn’t agree more.
However you would be mistaken if you thought that there was completely nothing to see in this hollow shell of a town.
For starters the town was circled by a tight ring of various kinds of trees and bushes. The wild paths were often crossed by brave animals and even braver hunters with rifles.
On the most south side of Braxton one could find pleasantly small lake with nenuphars and water lilies. It is a place frequented by all – people and animals.
When you entered the town from the north, you were welcomed by a towering shadow of the small basilica consecrated to Saint Mary. The silver dome of the basilica towered above the town as the highest peak in Braxton. The white walls shone from a far, guiding the weary traveler home.
Time to work out your own funny bone! This week, write about whatever topic you’d like, but go for laughs.
Poke fun at yourself, write a limerick, find the absurdity in a real-life situation, come up with some groan-worthy puns, sketch a comic, put some fictional characters in a farcical situation — all’s fair in comedy.
This is my attempt at this week writing challenge. I thought I would try something new and play with composing a limerick. It turned out to be a complete nonsense but I had fun writing it, I hope you have fun reading.
I. I once knew a man from Peru,
Who liked to use the loo,
He likes it so much,
that he took a batch,
of toilet paper from Peru.
II. There was once a boy named Bill,
He often ate sausages from the grill,
He ate them with mustard,
But he didn’t like custard,
And so he was often ill.
III. Annie often took a sway,
Thinking come what may,
All day reading books,
Hiding in the house nooks,
To her parents great dismay.
IV. I knew a girl named Sue,
Whose hair had a strawberry hue,
She fancied a boy
But he was terrbily coy,
So she wished he got a clue.
|I once knew a man from Peru
The door to your house/flat/apartment/abode has come unstuck in time. The next time you walk through it, you find yourself in the same place, but a different time entirely. Where are you, and what happens next?
I was beat. Dead tired actually. Mauled after the whole day at the office. The only thing I dreamed of was to get into the shower and crawl into bed. I bet I would be asleep in three seconds.
Unfortunately my doors had other ideas. They simply wouldn’t budge. Not even an inch. I turned and turned my key but it seemed like the problem was with the door itself. They seemed glued to the doorframe.
Oh, no, nothing will beat me to my bed. I pushed angrily at the door and suddenly the wood gave in. I fell through the entrance and landed on something soft, green and grassy? What the…? Did I break a plant at home? Wait a minute I have no plants. What is going on? I raised my head and stumbled to my feet. The sun blinded me. Under my feet was indeed, a grass. I could hear birds and raised my head to see a few black spots on otherwise clear, baby blue sky. Before my eyes there was vast, green field with only few boulder blocks scattered. On the horizon I could see some big shape rising in the distance, menacing, sinister, the big unknown.
I turned around disoriented, wanting to go back to my apartment, only to find out that there was no door anymore. My door was gone and only a shaky, half rotten frame remained. There was no way back.
I was literally in the middle of nowhere. What is going on? I must be dreaming. I bumped my head or fainted from the exhaustion. Yes that must be it. I felt that dreadful feeling of insecurity, fright and complete lose set in.
I was all alone, in a strange place, in a different time… And to think that I thought this day couldn’t get any worse…
Weekly Writing Challenge: Through the Door