Writing Prompts - first week of 2011

Blame

The fireworks lit up the sky in splendour and a thousand faces turned their attention to the drama above their heads. I, on the other hand, was too busy fiddling with my camera, which had decided to stop working, just at that moment when the first big bang resounded.

We had arrived at the harbour early afternoon looking for the perfect spot. The place was already swarming with keen firework hunters who had taken up refuge from the scorching sun under all the shady oaks and eucalyptuses in the area. Luckily I had predicted as much and had brought along the necessary gear in the form of an umbrella. The tripod and camera had been set up to cover the entire panorama. I had put the camera to test with a few clicks and minor adjustments that would guarantee the once in a year snapshots of the awaited new years celebrations. I would capture the harbour, water, sky as well as capricious passers-by in a timely manner and we would licence the copyrights from this extraordinary device and become rich and famous. There had been no doubt about it. Well, that had been the plan anyway.

The fireworks were meant to last for a full twenty minutes. Ten had already been wasted. A smoky sky continued to be set ablaze and other professional photographers were engaged in filming the scene, much to my growing ire. The harbour shot up streams of fire, creating a semi-halo effect. I drew my attention back to the camera and thought how this was not meant to happen. Another five minutes passed and frantic as I was to fix the darn thing, I knew that I could either battle with an aged yet familiar predicament further or give in. I decided to give in.

Only five more minutes remained and I knew that the finale would be spectacular so I walked up to where my husband stood and watched. Cheers and screams of awe filled the air around us with explosions of colour raining down. The sound of a thousand rumbles of thunder in one tore through the place until finally a sudden calm rang in our ears. The smell of burning filled the air along with the claps, pounding music and continued cheers. It was all over for us.

“Woah!! Did you get all that?”

I turned toward my husband who was holding his brand new camcorder now filming the crowds around us, and shook my head.

“The darn thing conked out. Here.”

I handed over my grandfather’s old camera which I had promised we would finally get rid of if it broke down one more time. At least one of us had caught the new year’s festivities on film despite my silent blameworthy glances which I kept casting on my old, inherited camera.

Paranoia

When the lights went out, he was suddenly aware of everything around him. Staring at the ceiling, wide-eyed, the ticking sound of the clock and, of course, the whooshing sounds that kept coming from the room at the end of the hall kept playing at him. They had warned him about the night-time visitors - ghosts was the name they had whispered cautiously - but he was not prepared to submit to their paranoia. It was, however, quite a difficult feat given that the whooshing sound kept getting louder with every tick-tock of the clock.

New beginnings

I tore up the deed and a took long stroll,

The last one, they said, before my proverbial fall,

But the winds of change gave me full control,

And led me anew to rejuvenate my soul.