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Duality


Photo by Cristiano Pedroso Roussado on Unsplash

First-ever weekly prompt! How exciting is that? Very, is the answer. I know, I was supposed to start this whole Weekly Prompts project, I shall say, a few weeks back, but, well… I don’t really have an excuse. That settles the matter of me being late to start it, I hope.

Now, the whole idea of this, is that I will take a constraint, a prompt and a word limit and randomise it. After which, I shall write whatever fate decides. Easy enough to understand, but annoyingly hard to put in practice.

So, I cheated. Badly. I completely ignored the first two results I had, because they were really complicated, and to be fair, it’s the first time I’m doing something of the sorts, I need to ease my way in. So, I cheated my way out of it by randomising it yet again.

I ended up with possibly the easiest combination I could have, and I was happy, the only thing left to do is the actual writing, so I shall see you on the other side.

o Write in the first-person plural;

o Write a scene or a poem in which you meet your earlier or later self;

o 600 words limit.

We both knew what it meant to meet each other. What it meant for us, as beings, but also for the future we both might have. Who in their right mind would refuse the possibility of meeting their own self? No one. At least that’s what we both thought.

The irony of meeting ourselves. What we would have given before for the possibility? And yet, when the time came, it was a day difference and nothing more. What can change and what experience one might have to help the other in any way? Disappointed and sad, we looked at each other as if for the first time.

Here she was, in the form of our self, coming exactly one day from the present day. Looking at one another, we both appreciated the hair. One was washed, neatly arranged, the other was one week due a wash, oily and tied at the back. We shrugged in approval, for both states were known to us, both equally acceptable.

There was that matter of cleaning the house, and doing the chores and we both nodded our heads, one trying to avoid the thought of the job she would have to do, the other already past that point, free to do whatever.

Another shrug brought forward the book we were expecting. The first meant to show an excited feeling of waiting for the parcel, the other showed it already came, and the book was put in the library, before the book we received last week and after the one we “read” last year.

And that was it. No problem solved or to be solved, no dark secret to be shared amongst ourselves. All we had left to do was sit on the sofa, in the living room we both had, one of them just slightly cleaner. Once down, we both looked at each other, not knowing what to do. Fair enough, we could play games, but we had but one laptop and no way we could share. Same with books and the same with food. Maybe not with food, so we both ate, after waiting for a while. We both were too lazy to move and put the food onto plates. In the end, the younger one moved, for age has priority.

While eating, we had a good idea of playing chess. We both though ourselves to be good players and now we had a chance to test exactly how good. We finished eating and jumped to arrange the board. Easy task one might say, but we had two players of white and not one of black, and we stared at each other a long time until we decided we have a weird scary face which will never work, so we rock-paper-scissored our way out of this madness.

We spent close to two hours on one game, at the end of which we decided that we are either too stupid to win, or simply geniuses, the answer to the problem to be discovered some other time when we decide to visit one another. If such time shall ever come, and why would that time come again, that was a different question.

Tired and annoyed, we decided that we are not a good company. We had the same jokes, same taste in music, or movies, or books. It all might sound all nice and good but when you are to listen to the same idea twice, only the second time reinforced, the day goes by slow, and time seemed to stop, bored by our thoughts.

One thing’s for sure, we were better off spending time at work.


Final Word Count: 600 (I shall reward myself with chocolate!)

Welcome back! I hope you liked this one.

It proved to be quite tricky, in a way. Normally, I would have had some sort of dialogue with myself, not just waste time, but I found it would be impossible to do, given the fact that the story was supposed to have a first-person plural POV. A dialogue would require dialogue tags, which would have undoubtedly sounded like “she said,” “I said,” and while I was fine with the “she said,” one, I had a problem with the first-person singular one.

The only way I could have avoided this is if I completely removed dialogue. True, it might have been the easy way out, but I think, in the end, it worked.

Now, on to some other pressing matters. This first week which happened a month after the actual first week was an exception (I can read how confusing this sounds). From next week onwards, I will follow a strict schedule, so do not worry about my commitment. If I managed to write a poem a day with no exception, then I can indeed write a short story per week.

And to make it even more exciting, here is what you will read next:

Tuesday, 28.04.2020:


o Write the piece as one long sentence;

o Write a scene which slowly becomes a dream;

o 1300 word limit

See you all then, and have a nice week!




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