Wednesday, August 10, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge : Day 22

Alright, pushing on to the finish!  Today's feature photo is brought to you from... wait for it, wait for it... freestocks.org!  (Incredibly creative name, no?  But it is nice to sometimes find something called exactly what it is).  The quality there is excellent, and the price unbeatable (we knew that already, right?).  How excellent you ask?  Well, you are free to browse their categories (fashion, food and drinks, city & architecture, people, animals, objects & technology, and nature), though I wasn't super impressed with the selection (spoiled, I guess, looking at all kinds of quality photography sites).


Tuesday, August 9, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge : Day 21

Wow, we're already at the three week mark!  (And incredibly, I missed the two thirds mark yesterday.  Incredible, except for that I do know myself a little, and a math-related fact like that is completely forgettable).

To celebrate, I will give you yet another Jordan Matter photo.


Monday, August 8, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 20

I'll make this brief.  The picture is from Unsplash, taken by Tony Webster  (hailing from the oxymoronic Madrid, Iowa).  Have at it.




Sunday, August 7, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge : Day 19

So today I decided to try a new source for pictures: Morguefile.  There appear to be a variety of photos there, of varying quality.  While there are still some stunning options, there are also more amateurish/less spectacular to wade through.  Also, unless you modify/alter/change the picture, you have to credit the artist (not that that's a bad thing, but just to make a note of that, since that's buried in the terms and conditions you probably won't read).

So, I am happy to present to you this photo svklimkin (no, I don’t have any other name to credit him).


Saturday, August 6, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge : Day 18

As tempting as it would be to have recourse to the familiar picture sites I've used already, I thought I'd look at Gratisography.  The selection there includes plenty of interesting photos, many of them quite whimsical.  I chose  to start with something on the more moderate side.  Would love to see what you can come up with for this one!


Friday, August 5, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge : Day 17

I'm sure I've said it before, but it bears repeating: the pics at Unsplash are amazing.  The panoramic vistas particularly, are steadily wearing on my resolve to not use pure nature pictures (the ambiguity as well as absence of human characters & actions decided me against them- at least for now).   But, there are a plethora of other fantastic options, so I hope you enjoy this picture from them, and find it inspiring for your writing.


Thursday, August 4, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 16

You know, I think these dramatic pictures might make me think harder but also more creatively for a writing idea.  They relate to common human experiences, and yet, demonstrate them with flair and their own distinct flavor.  So, I'll take the liberty of presenting yet another Jordan Matter photo.  I bring you: "The Dictionaryphile"
(Because we all just have those moments when we want to fall asleep with that tome of meaning;-).

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 15

I don't know about you, but the past few pictures were beginning to feel a bit prosaic.  Not that fire is all that still, and not that they each had plenty of quality material to grow inspiration.  But they didn't bespeak action and drama, if you know what I mean.  So, I decided to go back and browse through the work of NYC photographer, Jordan Matter.   Take this picture for inspiration.




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Her alarm clock said four on the dot.  That was an hour earlier than usual, she didn't- no, she had a flight to catch!

The suitcase was already packed, the checklist looking happy with all its checks, and there was just the lovely list of daily home things to run through before she left.

Matt off to work?    Check.
Maria scheduled to come later for house cleaning?   Check.
The reports sent to Kyle?  Check.
The meeting notes sent to Jared, Anna, Frank... oh, and Jenna, she needed to do that. 
  

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 14

Wow, two weeks already!

OK, I'm not going to say it's just flown, that it seems like just yesterday that I started writing, my pen has just been running ink so nicely.  I won't lie to you.  While it does seem hard to believe that time moves so quickly (seems to speed up in direct proportion to your level of busy-ness), I can hardly say that writing everyday has been super easy.  Mostly it has involved carving out time earlier in the morning (read: getting up earlier), and drawing inspiration from random sources throughout the day.  

Because, nice as it would be to claim that everything I've written has been solely inspired by all the lovely pictures I've been putting up here- that's not how it works.  It probably hasn't worked that way for you either. (Unless, perhaps, you spend more time staring at the image for inspiration, and connect with visual things better.  Maybe.).

But, that's fine.  In fact, that's one of the things I like (and am better enjoying) about writing; the way it makes you notice things differently.  Inspiration is supposed to come from around you; the picture is merely a spark, a little arrow that you can point in any direction you choose.  While you journey with your writing, you can pick up other ideas to add and weave into your developing piece.     

So, take today's image (from Unsplash again- loving the quality there) and then make sure you keep your senses open for other inspiration.  Draw on your memories.  Explore your environment for further inspiration.  And, to paraphrase Ernest Hemingway, "Just sit down to the keyboard and bleed."


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Perhaps this is plagiarism.  If it is, though, we should all just give up and go completely crazy.  For this is a tale millennia old, but not half as well-known as it should be.
Not one in a hundred people will be able to guess the original with the names changed...


“This is it?  There aren’t any other cisterns?”  The panic rising in Adrian’s eyes creeps into his voice as looks over at his friend and fellow guardsman, Marcus.  Both stare into the city’s nearly empty water tank- the sides are dry except for a shallow pool at the bottom.  And they both know that will be gone soon enough.  The blockade has done its work.

Adrian starts as he hears the shouting outside the walls swell like a sudden wave of thunder.  The siege only seems to be wearing on one side- the side of the outnumbered defenders: their side.

“When there’s no more water…” Adrian starts to mutter.

“That’s not our decision,” Marcus cuts him off, rising quickly to his feet.  “And we didn’t defend our city the last three weeks only to give up now.  We’ve got to make our report to the general.”

“And that is all?”  Commander Felix looks up at them with weary grey eyes, the exhausted grey face of a man pushed past his limits of physical and psychological endurance.  A famine, and then a siege, a siege he knows they do not have the supplies to withstand.

“Yes, sir.”  Adrian turns and slides out of the tent, recognizing the dismissal.

“You are dismissed.” 

Still Marcus stands there.  “Sir, I am asking for permission to go behind enemy lines.”

The general peers at him in the dim light of the citadel’s lanterns.  Marcus is a common soldier, young, not yet promoted- but… he can’t be asking permission to leave at this critical time, can he?  Yet what can he hope to accomplish, leaving by himself?

“If I can decapitate the snake, we can survive the siege.”

“Assassinate General Leo?  You’ve never even seen the man!”  The incredulity in the general’s voice is loud in the dark room at the heart of the citadel.

“Fate willing, yes.  Or die trying.  There aren’t many other options now, are there?”  Marcus’ eyes flicker for a moment before returning to their customary wall of stoicism.

One word and a thousand images dart through the minds of both men; their enemy’s reputation for fierceness and torture is no secret.  But if the city falls…

The general swallows, then nods.  “You may go.  And, if you do not return while we yet stand… you will be remembered bravely, a spur of courage to the others.”

Marcus nods, salutes, and strides out swiftly.  The thing must be done quickly- before the assault is successful, and, more importantly, before he loses his nerve, he reminds himself as he wipes his sweaty palms.


“We will be ready to begin preparations for the final assault tomorrow?”  General Erik’s turns suddenly to one of his many assembled captains, standing stiffly at attention on the left side of his chair. 

“Five days from now, your lordship,” the officer murmurs in reply as he bows.  He wisely keeps his head down, while his superior glares at him with eyes that wouldn’t melt even in the fire of the brazier that keeps off the chill night air.  No other man has half the intimidating presence that has kept the soldiers strong throughout the long weeks of the siege.  But they have been long weeks… For a few moments, the general sits silent, clenching and unclenching his meaty fists. 

“This city!  Is it worth this?” he thinks to himself.  Three long weeks, no negotiations, and every day taxes his army in a way that only those in command are fully aware of.  And the unreasonable chills of foreboding this place gives him… 

“We must shorten the time,” he demands, rising and striding towards the exit of the meeting tent, preceded by his royal secretary, Arsenio. 

Leo is on the threshold of exiting, when Arsenio falls with a gurgling cry at his feet.  Four guards leap toward a shadow as Leo jumps backwards. 

The struggle is fierce, but brief.  “Wait, bring him in here.”  The soldiers do not dare disobey that imperious voice, and bring their prisoner into the dim light of the meeting tent.

“A spy?”  Leo spits out the word with disdain as he sits back down.  This doesn’t ease the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, but at least he can hide it with barking.  “What use did you have with the life of my secretary, spy?”

Marcus raises his head, staring coolly into the general’s grey eyes.  

“None.  A pass of bad luck.  But that will not be enough to keep you safe.”

Leo laughs.  “Safe?  I sit outside your walls, where I have you penned and nearly defeated.”

Marcus’ gaze is unflinching.   “I am but the first.  The braver will come after me.”

“Braver?  You will burn to death if you do not reveal their plans.”  Leo’s sneer is almost exaggerated in his attempt to cover that cold feeling.

The four guards gasp as their prisoner twists his right hand free, only to thrust it into the flames of the brazier.  There he holds it, still staring directly at the general.  “Braver.  I only wanted to be the first because I feared to hear the fate of any before me.  We have hardly begun.” 

Leo gazes with a sort of fascinated horror at the hand burning in the flames.  This soldier would give up his sword hand to impress him?  What sort of people is this?  That chilly knife twists his insides again, turning more savagely as he sees the faces of his stunned officers in the light of that fire.  

"Release him.  He has proved his own courage,"  Leo croaks.

"Then," Marcus says clearly, pulling his burnt hand out while the guards back away, "I tell you freely what you would never have gotten by torture.  Three hundred and seven others have pledged their lives to accomplish where I have failed.  You will never be safe, and will die surprised."

Leo stares back at this bold enemy, then snaps his fingers at the guards.  "See that he makes it back into his city, and goes nowhere else."  

"Commander..." one of the officers begins.

Leo glares at him.  The glare melts, however, as his gaze shifts over all the other officers in the tent.  There is no way he can lead them to attack a city like that now.

"Well, gentlemen, you are prepared to send a delegation for negotiating?"      

Monday, August 1, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 13

Almost to the two week mark!  I don't know how well to say this is going, since I'm resisting the strong temptation to go back and read what I've written on past days- I'm pretty sure I would delete most of it.  But, pushing onward, we've another picture for today, this time from PicJumbo.  There are a lot of categories, though not a whole lot to choose from in all of them, at the free level.  Which is why they offer a premium level, of course.  Still, the pictures are nice, and you might just find something neat in you inbox (if you sign up to receive free pictures).  Fulfilling writing to you!



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This is going to a be a simple article on simplicity (I know, the picture practically drips the word, doesn't it?)

I'm going to avoid the difficult areas, (cough --relationships, big-time priorities, life-goals--) and leave those for you to reason out.  You may or may not choose to apply the techniques I'll address for other, simpler things (like your closet; yes, this is slightly geared more towards women than men).  I know, unambitious of me.  But, let's start with, well, the small and simple.

If you know clothes just pile up in your closet from year to year, the clothes-hanger tip will be optimal for you.  Simply:

  •  turn all your hangers backwards on the glorious day you wish to start organizing and voila!  You've done almost all that is necessary on one glorious day (it may not seem all that wonderful a day, though, compared to it's one-year anniversary, when you will behold the marvelous fruits of your labor).  
  • Hang your clothes the opposite way the rest of the year  This is how you will keep track of what you're actually wearing.
  • Check the date of that glorious day one year later, and you will easily see what you haven't worn for a year.  If you have quality pieces that you simply don't wear, list on Ebay.  Otherwise (or in the case that it doesn't sell within a few weeks), support your local Goodwill (or other charitable thrift stores- you may know of one connected to an organization or church in your neighborhood).  
This tip can be applied over shorter periods of time (every few months), but you just want to make sure you're not clearing clothes that are simply out of season.


Another simplifying tip is the one-in-two-out rule.  While that ratio isn't set  in stone, it keeps things easy and simple.  Whenever one thing comes into your house (a gift, a deal steal you couldn't pass up, etc), choose two things to get rid of (either the profitable or charitable route).  Not an easy rule, but incredible for simplifying space and possessions.


I strongly believe in keeping organized files (maybe because I have so many).  Initially organizing a mass of files isn't easy, but definitely worth it.  My personal rule is to make a new folder (or sub-folder, as the case may be) for any group of 5+ documents.  Folders and sub-folders make finding any document much simpler, and makes your files in general more streamlined.  And, if there's something dated and no longer necessary, it does pay to remember that it's not criminal to dispose of.


Organizing and simplifying may not be your favorite hobby, but you will thank yourself later, when, instead of searching and searching for something, or pushing through piles and piles in your closet, you find a simpler, clearer space, neat and orderly.

What do you do to simplify your life?



Sunday, July 31, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 12

I hope at this point you aren't running out of creative steam.  Because, let's face it: as endless as that fountain of ideas may seem at 2 a.m. some nights, that dry screen other days will seem cruel and superior plenty of other times.  'You know what?' it says, 'Don't you think this page looks better blank?  Empty of your scribblings?  Your ramblings?  Your trite and hackneyed ideas and stories?'.  I don't have an answer to this ever, really- I don't argue when the other side can't listen.  One compromise (you may have noticed) I use, is giving the page some space.  A whole column of just whiteness and periods, before I spoil the beautiful emptiness with thought-splatterings.  That page can keep its blankness- but the next one is for the writing I know I need to get down.  If I don't, I never will have anything worth reading, and the blank page will have won.  

I know it may not be getting easier- yet.  Establishing a daily habit wouldn't be such a fantastic thing if it didn't take effort.  But you get what you put into it (like everything else), so I hope you get something good out of this photo from Kaboompics, where photographers generously put out their photos under the Creative Commons License, helping artists like you and me.






The sheets are soft and still smell like fabric softener.  Lucy doesn't want to leave them, and fumbles for the snooze button.  No, that's not for today, she remembers: Kristen's coming!  That name is enough to send her springing out of the bed, and onto the little rug in her apartment's single bedroom.  

Fumble through the dresser, throw together breakfast, and... well, the process of cleaning her place, small though it is, will take some time, and not a little effort.  But Kristen's coming!  And into her cleaning mode Lucy plunges.  


The vacuum is roaring over what Lucy is sure must be the last square foot of space when she hears the knock.  Not loud, not brassy-- Kristen never uses the knocker or the bell.  This is going to be so much fun.

"Kristen!"  Lucy squeezes her tight, and feels that easy laughter she's always loved bubbling up in her friend. "Oh, it's been too long.  you really have to come down to Austin more often than this.  Besides, a lovely musician like would love it here."  Then she suddenly pulls back.

"You have something to tell me."

Kristen laughs again.  Is it the same?  Lucy can't say what exactly strikes her as different, but she senses something in her friend's laughter- something nervous?  But, before she can ask, Kristen bursts out, "We're going on a picnic!", thrusting the wicker basket into Lucy's arms.

"A picnic?  Oh, you didn't have to make-"

"Nonsense.  I already know where we're going- you'll love it.  And I know you don't get out enough, so don't even try to get out of it."

"Alrighty then," Lucy concedes with a smile.  "I'll get my cane."

"Oh no you don't.  Or do you not trust me to guide you arm in arm anymore?"

Both women chuckle.  "Well, let's see," Lucy says, "You've got two broken legs, a broken arm, and a fractured wrist in your history.  And, heaven help us if you sneeze."  

"Oh, well, bring it if you like, but I think it will be more fun this way.  You don't need a "stick-eye" when you've got two friendly eyes and a chatterbox mouth for you.  And you really do need to get out of your little studio for some Vitamin D."

The sunshine does feel wonderful to Lucy as she walks with her friend.  It hadn't been a far drive in Kristen's car, though any car seems much faster than the bus, Lucy thinks.  She'd noted each of the turns announced in strident tones by the GPS- it had seemed strange that Kristen took two wrong turns, but Kristen had passed the time pleasantly by talking steadily about her work back in Dallas. 

But, after a steady stream, here in the park, she stopped.

"Lucy-"  Kristen was mumbling- something was wrong, I knew it, I knew it, Lucy thought to herself in a flash- how did I miss it before?  

"I-I don't know how to tell you this..."

Lucy squeezes her friend's hand, and hopes her smile is reassuring.  But the clamminess of her friend's hand does nothing to encourage that hope.

"I- I'm going completely deaf."

"It’s the medication I have to take for my allergies," Kristen spilled out quickly.  "I didn't know about the side effect, but it's already too far gone- I have a hearing aid, but the doctor said it's only a matter of time ..."

Lucy sits silent for a second, processing.  From the strange,  desperate tone of her friend's voice, it sounds like there isn't much that can be done about it.  But she's hardly thirty-

"Lucy?"  Even though Kristen is almost mumbling, Lucy catches the quiver in her friend's tone, as if she's become afraid of her own voice.

"Why didn't you say anything about it before?  No, never mind."  Lucy hugs her friend tightly.   "You are stronger than anyone I know," she murmurs, hoping that she said it loud and clear enough, but afraid it might've been too loud too.

"I-I just I don't know," Kristen whispers.  "I-I- but you know more about this than anyone."





Saturday, July 30, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 11

Today's picture is brought to you from Picography, the lovely site where "photographs are provided free of charge and under the Creative Commons Public Domain CC0 license" .  The intriguing photo I selected, should you be interested, was taken by Dave Meier.




Would be glad to see what you come up with for this one in the comments (or whatever your thoughts are on my daily writing, which you are always welcome to share).
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Fall leaves feel

Jenny rubs at her face again.  "Sofu, I don't know about this haiku thing."  She looks at her grandfather, hoping he will understand her in English and she won't have to explain her difficulties in her stumbling Japanese.  "Sofu", the affectionate Japanese term for grandfather, is about the only word she would be sure she would get right. 

"I will see."  Her grandfather's wrinkle-creased eyes peer over her shoulder at the notebook.   The page is empty except for the one line, written in a careful, neat hand.  A cautious but uncertain hand, he thinks.

"It is not bad, Aiko."  Jenny bites her lip as he calls her by his Japanese nickname for her- 'beloved'.  "But, the haiku- you must feel it- different."

Jenny looks up at him confused, so he tries again.  "You see the two 'f's?  And the 'l's?  That is not what haiku is about.  That is English poems."

Jenny sighs.  Her mother had somehow thought that learning haiku from her grandfather would be so much fun for both of them, as Jenny excels in her freshman English class, writing A+ poems, and her mother cannot remember a time when her father didn't enjoy his amateur haiku writing.  

But, haiku is not English poetry, Jenny thinks frustrated, sighing again as she remembering her sofu's observation.  Haiku isn't about alliteration, isn't about similes and metaphors, isn't about rhyming-- it doesn't seem to be about anything Jenny recognizes when she thinks of poetry.  

"Take a walk?" her grandfather suggests.  

At least they can both enjoy the sunny but cool October weather of southern Hokkaido, Japan's northernmost main island; the pressure to speak and get things done blows away with the refreshing breeze.  Jenny thinks of the warmer weather back home; they'll be taking the long flight back to Southern California in a couple days, their visit to Japan and her mother's family over for this year.  Yes, at least the awkwardness isn't so bad out here; the quiet of the country surrounding her grandfather's simple little house is soothing, gently complementing the natural green beauty of the ponds and plants Jenny doesn't know the names of.  

"Aiko, you see that bird?"  Jenny turns to where her her grandfather's wrinkled index finger points.

The heron is perfectly still, a natural statue in a boat that seems as in harmony with its surroundings as the bird.

"You see it?"  Jenny is confused that her grandfather repeats the question.  Clearly, she must be seeing it; she's following his finger, and looking directly at it.

"Hai, I do," she answers a little quickly.  

"Watch."  A few moments later, the heron takes off, spreading its wings in a graceful arc of white and grey, lightly splashing the water with its feet as it rises from the boat into the air.  One moment there, then gone, but more beautiful than before and after is the special moment between the two, the flight that heralds fall. Jenny gazes after it for a moment. 

"That- that is haiku.  You feel it now?"

A simple moment in nature, a season in a moment- "Yes, I think I do, sufo," Jenny whispers, unwilling to disturb the moment.  Nature doesn't work with rhyme schemes, or strive for human structures- and yet...

"It is poetry," Jenny murmurs.  "Clear and beautiful."

The lines are already forming in her mind as she looks back at her grandfather, whose smile shines out like the sun emerging from a winter cloud.  

Poetry, a little pool, reflecting the facets of the world...




Friday, July 29, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 10

Today's picture is from Superfamous Images (the work of Dutch interaction designer Folkert Gorter, based in Los Angeles).   The Superfamous images collection offers a lot of stunning vistas, cool pictures of stone, and interesting perspectives on water (more watery pictures can be found under the  but does it float page).  




Now, let's get writing!

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There used to be few things that I feared more than my fear of heights.  I've lived in the mountains for the last ten years now, and never gotten over that terrible acrophobia.  

And I have it bad.  A yard away from any edge, and I'll already get that sickening feeling, where my stomach starts playing at being ocean waves, my head pretends to be one of those spinning globes, and my knees start shaking like there's some incredible dance move they've got to bust.  Yeah, not much fun.  And don't even talk about looking down at any height above ten feet.  You'd rather I not throw up on you, right?

None of that has really changed.  And yet... well, I guess I should just tell you what happened.

Being the older brother of a fearless girl has never made my acrophobia easier.  But when Jenny was eight, I didn't think it could get any worse.  Who else could I depend on to tell every single one of my new middle school friends that I was super scared of heights?

"Hey Jimmy, guess what?  Tim is such a scar-"  I didn't always manage to stop her in time, though, and my secret was out.  Sure there wasn't any spot on the playground to test my fear- the monkey bars and playground were safe enough.

But, I knew that everyone else was thinking of the ledge behind the school when Justin, a boy I never liked, asked me if I was afraid of heights.

"


Thursday, July 28, 2016

30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 9

Rolling on, today's picture comes from the beautiful gallery of Life of Pix, "hand-made with love by Leeroy Advertising Agency in Montreal & its network of photographers" (as they state on their home page).  Pictures are organized under 13 categories: 

1) Animals 
2) Beach 
3) Black & White 
4) City 
5) Construction 
6) Desk 
7) Food 
8) Industrial 
9) Nature 
10) Object 
11) People 
12) Sea 
13) Textures  


And the picture we're actually concerned with?  Alright, no more delaying, from the Beach category...






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"Are you alone?"

Christi started at the sound of the girl's voice.  "I guess I thought so until a second ago," she tries to answer with a nonchalant shrug, and flick of the jagged black hair that fringes her eyes and vision.  The nonchalance doesn't come easy, and it must show.  Well, she doesn't need this stranger to know that.

"Its such a chilly place." Christi hears the girl shiver, though she must find the cold more interior than exterior; Christi would describe the temperature as cool, but not cold.  Not except for the grayness which she too feels piercing her to the core.  Well, there were plenty of other things that had already done that.

"So why are you here?" Christi asks the girl, still not turning to look at her, and keeping her own face hidden in the shadows of her hoodie.  The plenty of things had been painful, but to have her plan to end them interrupted?  Could the world stop being spiteful for a minute? 

"I was going to ask you that."  The girl steps directly out in front of Christi, and stares up at her.  Christi uses all the self-control at her command not to gasp.  That curly black hair, those grey-green eyes...

"You look like- oh, never mind."

"Well, why are you here?" the stranger girl asks.

"I asked you, remember?"  Christi wonders how long it'll take for the girl to go away.

"I don't have a reason unless you do." 

Christi looks up suddenly.  "What?"

"My reason is bound with yours- so why are you here?"

"This is ridiculous-"

"It is." the strange girl agrees.

"What?"  Christi looks up again.

"It's ridiculous that you want to take something infinitely valuable, and throw it away.  There are some who could envy you for it."

"Envy?  Envy what?  My life?"  Christi snorts in disbelief.  "I don't think you know what we're talking about."  What kind of pain we're talking about, she thinks bitterly, her insides curling in response to the reminder.

"If we could envy you, there are few things we would be envious of, but your earthly life, the time of your choice, and your pain would be towards the top of that short list."

Christi stares at the girl again.  "Envy a human life?  Envy pain?"

"Pain has immeasurable meaning and worth- only your mere mortal eyes can't see it," the girl answers cryptically.  Christi wheels around, but she's gone.

Meaning.  Worth.  Pain?  That sounds like... something in the back of Christi's mind clicks.  She'd heard that somewhere... where?  She has to find it.  Rising, she walks quickly away from the dark water and the death by drowning she had planned for herself.

She doesn't see the strange girl flash a smile at her earthly charge, so narrowly saved.