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kisahawklin ([personal profile] kisahawklin) wrote in [community profile] 15_minute_ficlets2014-09-14 06:48 am

Prompt #203

If you wish to do this as a spontaneous exercise, don't look at the word until you're ready to write (I recommend having Write or Die open in another tab). If you're going to mull over the word and write later, peek away.

Once you've completed your ficlet, please either comment here, or post a link to it, if you're posting on your own journal. Feel free to reference the community or number of the prompt in your outside posts, but if you use the actual word, please put it under a cut to avoid spoiling others, should they want to write spontaneously.

Today's word is: struggle

struggle [struhg-uh l]

verb (used without object), struggled, struggling.
1. to contend with an adversary or opposing force.
2. to contend resolutely with a task, problem, etc.; strive: to struggle for existence.
3. to advance with violent effort: to struggle through the snow.
4. (of athletes and competitors) to be coping with inability to perform well or to win; contend with difficulty: After struggling for the whole month of June, he suddenly caught fire and raised his batting average 30 points.

verb (used with object), struggled, struggling.
5. to bring, put, etc., by struggling: She struggled the heavy box into a corner.
6. to make (one's way) with violent effort.

noun
7. the process or an act or instance of struggling.
8. a war, fight, conflict, or contest of any kind.
9. a task or goal requiring much effort to accomplish or achieve.

If you've missed a word or twelve and would like to catch up, please see the Master List.

[personal profile] gisil 2014-09-15 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)
The sound of locusts reverberated from the woods several dozen meters away, and the humidity lay heavy on the air, filling Hildegarde’s lungs with the scent of lately-bloomed flowers from the fence. She was bent at the vines, tying the tender vines to trellises with twine, a task that required both strength and delicacy. Unaccustomed to the task, Hildegarde found her movements more brutal than her strength warranted. She could feel perspiration gathering beneath her heavy mass of hair, tied down with a kerchief over her forehead.

A cooler rush of air brushed her face and filled her senses momentarily, and she sat back on her heels. Her gaze drifted down to the Rhine, where it lay like a glittering thread between the basalt cliffs, far beneath the green steppes of vineyards. Everything looked just as she remembered from her childhood, but it was more decayed. She wondered how it would look in ten more years, or twenty. Could something dying, like her estate, be resurrected, or would it have to be reimagined as something new?

The castle had lasted for centuries. Even if her family line didn’t continue, it would persevere, and be turned over to other hands.

Hildegarde could not resign herself to that idea. Even if she never married, she wanted to live to see the vineyards ripen and produce again.

She ended the short break and continued her work, aware of the waning light. Soon it would be dark, but she had worked by moonlight before, just as her predecessors had.

She remembered where she had been a year ago. At the start of her debut, in a white gown, she had been presented to Queen Victoria, as befitting a noblewoman beneath the Kaiser, Victoria’s son. She had had many offers for her hand, and become engaged. Even if things hadn’t ended like they had, with her family losses and her broken engagement, she sensed it still would not have come to be. That world had been an ill-fitting glove.

Here, in the twilight, she was close to the ground for the first time in her life. Close to the soil, and to the means of her survival. This was where she preferred to be.
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)

[personal profile] edenfalling 2014-10-01 03:35 am (UTC)(link)
Title: As through a Glass, with Joy
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Wordcount: 325
Summary: When the Dawn Treader turned and began rowing west, Caspian thought he would never recover from the piercing sweetness of the uttermost East.

As through a Glass, with Joy