The hope of rituals

Chuck Wending is at it again, serving up more writing challenges. The current one “…is as apt as you want it to be — the theme of your as-yet-unwritten story must be, we need hope in the face of of hopelessness. It’s a bit dramatic-sounding, but themes are rarely served by a soft touch. So, that’s your task. Tackle a short piece of flash fiction that deals with that as its central theme: why we need hope in the face of its opposite. You’ve got, mmm, let’s say 2000 words for this one. Due by Friday, January 27th, noon EST.”

I originally pushed back against this one. I don’t feel hopeful. I’m depressed, for so many reasons, about so many things. The political situation just seems to be the cherry on the shit sundae. But I also know that when I push back against things that I probably need to pause to take a closer look. Maybe I truly am just not interested. Or maybe, just maybe, the very uncomfortableness of the topic is the very reason I should create around it.

So I thought, “Ok, I’ll try 100 words. I like 100 words.” Instead of a story it blurted out a very quick poem. It fell into 100 words exactly, without my usual angst in chopping out extraneous bits. This isn’t exactly what Chuck was going for, but it is what he got.

This intro is longer than the actual piece.

The world screams
Discontent on every page
Enraged colors
Clashed orange, pink, gray, green
Sharp corners, sharp tongues
Speak alternate truths
Wring holes in our souls
Bring hearts in our soles
While Earth spins its daily habit
The sun makes its rounds
So as above — so below
This quiet magnitude
In measured ritual
Finds the Belleek teapot
Filled with slow measure
Steeped leaves, infused air
Delicate tings of cups against saucers
A plate of Linzer cookies
Ruby throats vying for attention
A reassurance of friends
A murmur, a laugh
The sun rises
The tea pours
Hope stirs in the rituals