Watching from the kitchen window, she wondered what her girls were imagining today. They wrapped binder twine around stones, making odd-shaped balls. Then they disappeared into the trees near the pasture, returning with sticks, attaching twine to each piece of wood. The balls and sticks were tied to their bike fenders. Curiosity got the better of her, sliding the window open in time to hear them laughing as they put crowns of wild flowers on their heads before peddling down the road yelling, “Just Married”. Sticks bounced behind and the twine covered rocks became balloons tied to fenders.
Life through the mind of a child is amazing. The imagination they have to create the places they have been or are yet to travel to other than in their mind, is like no other. Fresh and invigorating, and too soon it gets left behind for the place we adults call life.
As children, we played for hours outside, making up characters, planning excursions across fields and down trails, crawling around in the rocks and trees when we became our favourite book character. Indoor, immersing my mind into the stories of books that we were encouraged to read. Setting up tea parties with dolls and stuffed animals. Playing store in the pantry, making tickets to pretend to sell to our parents for them to watch us perform a play we had concocted. None would have been possible without an imagination that was turned on each time we opened our eyes and were introduced to something new in our lives.
I think that is one of the reasons I like to write. I get to float through the clouds to Imagination Land, gathering tidbits of memories and what-ifs to embellish and create. Storing them in the grey vault of the brain for just the right time to pull them out and add them to a story, start a new one, or create a tale filled with whatever falls into place.
The question that is often presented to writers is, “Where do you get your ideas from?” My answer is, “The imagination and life itself is a wonderful research tool.”
As children, we played for hours outside, making up characters, planning excursions across fields and down trails, crawling around in the rocks and trees when we became our favourite book character. Indoor, immersing my mind into the stories of books that we were encouraged to read. Setting up tea parties with dolls and stuffed animals. Playing store in the pantry, making tickets to pretend to sell to our parents for them to watch us perform a play we had concocted. None would have been possible without an imagination that was turned on each time we opened our eyes and were introduced to something new in our lives.
I think that is one of the reasons I like to write. I get to float through the clouds to Imagination Land, gathering tidbits of memories and what-ifs to embellish and create. Storing them in the grey vault of the brain for just the right time to pull them out and add them to a story, start a new one, or create a tale filled with whatever falls into place.
The question that is often presented to writers is, “Where do you get your ideas from?” My answer is, “The imagination and life itself is a wonderful research tool.”
| Ann Edall-Robson Author, Photographer, Lover of Life "Capturing moments others may never get to experience.” to edit. | Be the first to get all our latest news and updates. |
September 12, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about balloons on a bumper. Is it a spectacle, an occasion, an eccentricity? Why are the balloons there? Who is involved? Go where the prompt leads!
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