Sinjin Chronicles 2

At night I can hear the wind talking to the hills. At least that is the sound that looms largest in my mind’s eye. I don’t know why the howl and the hiss and the faint undulation that sounds so very much like someone speaking should swell with darkfall, the wind gauges and tech installations report no significant change in wind speed and direction after dark, and yet I’d swear to you that the sound increases. It thickens, intensifies, forming a great dark mass that churns and undulates somewhere deep in my limbic brain. Layers and layers of sounds and shifting rhythms that fool the brain into thinking that it hears voices imbedded within the maelstrom. But it doesn’t, not really. As much as your brain tries to pull some sense of language it can’t so you are left with the aching and pervasive and unsettling feeling that something of cosmic importance is being said just outside your ability to comprehend.

Sinjin Chronicles - Day 1

It is only natural that they should have forgotten me by now. I mean come on, it has been nearly ten years earth solar time that I’ve been out-bound, and seven years, five months and twelve e-solar days since I landed in this hell-hole. The time passage alone  is enough to forget, and on top of that, why would you want to remember the daughter/sister/aunt that besmirched the fine old family name by landing herself on the United Systems most notorious prison planet? That the charges are treason and murder must make it all that more excruciating. One wonders how they can possibly carry on. And yet by all reports they do, and well if the latest gossip of the Sur-ply Ships carries any shred of truth.


Now, all that being said, the name is the thing and I still have one, Sinjin is still me and I am still she. Not that I much resemble myself these days with hair bleached white as bone and skin burnt the deep red-brown of a Nicoben nut. Gone is the fresh-faced, by the numbers, star recruit, plucked from the ranks and onto the Republican Star Guard by virtue of a fine family name and a pretty face - though I like to think being top of my class in hand to hand combat and adaptive intelligence had something to do with it. But that’s probably just pride speaking. Ever my downfall.


Hey, I still have all my teeth and most of my fingers, which is more than most of my fellow prisoners can say. And believe you me, the end of my right pinkie finger chewed off by the Red Beast in a quad fight three months into my 15 to 20 stint was a very small price to pay for the rep that came from pounding his well-larded ass into the salt pan of the yard.

I'm finding pieces of...

I’m finding pieces of my broken heart strewn all over the place this week, sometimes in the most unlikely of places. Today I found one amongst some random gravel under the postbox when I mailed a sympathy card to a friend who has just lost her Dad. Even though it was dirty and mostly covered with a rime of frost, it threw a glint of light up to my eye and I stooped down to pry it from the bit of frozen dirt and dead dandelion in which it was lodged. The deep ruby red of it even shimmered a bit in the gloom of the January day. Likely a trick of the light. A chance capturing of the beam of a headlight of a passing car, maybe. But I like to think it’s more than that. That maybe, just maybe there is still some fiery spark deep within. Someday, when I’ve gathered together all the shards I’m ever likely to find maybe this one will spark its fellows into a conflagration and my heart will throb with love and purpose once again. 

6-minute writing prompt from Deb Norton at www.partwild.com 

Before we were here...

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Before we were here we must have been somewhere else. No one knows for sure, or I should say, some think they know for sure- - but they have belief not data. Unless you wish to quantify the preponderance of myth and religious belief that describes such a place and call that “data”. In some traditions it is called purgatory, in some a piece of heaven known as “the guff” where souls wait to be born, or, in yet other traditions, re-born. Many insist the data shows that we are simply evolved primates, but though part of our bodies certainly does seem to indicate we are first cousin to the chimpanzee, so many other things are vastly different. Personally I think there is some truth hidden within religious tradition and myth. I like to think we are human alien hybrids of some sort, set here to supplant the great lizards of eons gone by. Sometimes I even wonder if the disappearance of the dinosaurs was, as science currently hypothesizes, the result of a cosmic catastrophe or a planned and well executed genocide clearing our ideally terraformed plant for new experimentation in lifeform genetic engineering.

6-minute writing prompt courtesy of Deb Norton at www.partwild.com