Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Grab Bag fiction

Deep in the jungle in the African desert there are witch doctors who perform the ancient rites of the ancestors. I visualized such a woman sitting on the barren desert floor ,in front of a fire. She had on a shawl made of silk the color of the deepest part of the ocean, a midnight blue almost black with a silvery haze to it. Her eyes shone bright as flames of ember. The skin on her face weathered by the heat and the desert storms , seasoned by the years of her own existence. The fire crackled and hissed like a snake slithering over the autumn leaves. She listened carefully as the fire spoke to her soul. Her eyes captive ,mesmorized by the smoke ,as it rose in swirls upward into the dark of night . She began the chant ,her holy ghost tongue. Her body heaved and her head swiveled back and forth. She was in fetters of her own pain , the pain of dental problems she believed her very nature would cure with fire , chant and spirit. She began to visualize the tribal healers come riding upon the clouds. They rode on chariots of mighty winds, in their stead they carried the healing power of the universe. It is said that when one began to see them come , your spirit would fall into a deep sleep and it is then you would be cured of the ailment you suffer from . Upon awakening you will not remember the pain or the fetters by which you were bound.

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