Boy, it seems like a while since I jumped on a Write Now prompt, but I know that’s not the case, since I wrote for the 22 February prompt. Time is a weird concept.
Speaking of weird, today’s prompt took me in an interesting direction (quit rolling your eyes; just because I tend to say that periodically does not mean you should make faces like that…), which I titled “Behind Me Is Future:”
I wanted to know more about my past–no, my history; from where had we come? To whom were we connected? The ties had been severed so long ago and in such a horrific way that no one in my living family had answers. I tended to think they didn’t care, it being a part of a past to which they felt no kinship. The village child in me longed for distant family nonetheless, knowing there was so much more to be unearthed. So I traveled back to the continent of my ancestors, hoping to find something, someone, who could tie me to the land. I walked down dusty paths, ate with fingers cramped from writing in the journal. I decided to attend a prayer meeting, knowing I would probably not understand the dialect. There was a crowd forming, waiting to get into the tent for the evening meeting; while standing in line, I was tapped on the shoulder. I turned to find the path stretching away; there, in the distance I stood, looking over my shoulder at the me who was. Forever changed, I moved off down the path, toward the life I was meant to live. I was home.