Day One beneath the Sun....


It is yet another day, and we are well into our writing challenge quest!  

How are we all feeling about our word of the day?

Hopefully, you are eager to get started with another challenge for another day ... let's get started!






 of our writing challenge:


con·cert
noun
ˈkänˌsərt/
  1. 1.
    a musical performance given in public, typically by several performers or of several separate compositions.
    "symphony concerts"
    synonyms:musical performance, showproductionpresentationMore
  2. 2.
    formal
    agreement, accordance, or harmony.
    "critics' inability to describe with any precision and concert the characteristics of literature"
verb
formal
kənˈsərt/
  1. 1.
    arrange (something) by mutual agreement or coordination.
    "they started meeting regularly to concert their tactics"





Day 1

We made our way quietly to the safe haven. I lead the group of us through the long, dark, damp tunnel and unlocked the strong, steel door that lead us inside of the compound. I felt as if I was outside of my own body. I stepped into the space that Johnie and I had created. A space that we had dug, curated, cultured, decorated, established. It was a space I knew, well.  Maybe not as well as I would from here on out, but it was a space that I had created and implemented, from the coir doormat that boldly, happily spelled Welcome to the brown leather sectional that was placed in a common area with the brown shag rug to rest your feel. The floors has been lined with cheap linoleum that Johnie and I had picked up on sale. The kitchenette area was big enough to allow our entire group of twelve to stand in with ease. The rooms off of the common area were set up with more air-mattresses that needed to be inflated. The floors had been done in carpets that were left over from the house remodel. There were five bedrooms, or rooms of sorts. A shower had been set up with a sink and gas lamps that ran off of natural gas pockets that Johnie had dug for on the property.  A unit was regulating the natural gas in the far end of the compound with a line that lead from the underground tunnel in the carriage house. 

The horror of the loud bangs from the nuclear explosions outside, above ground were causing me some anxiety. What is they hit the natural gas pockets? What if they hit the pumping station?  All of which Johnie had reassured me would not reach us or the pumps, as he had taken precautions for just this type of emergency. 

How prepared had we really been?  

We were thought of as wackos with friends and family, some of which are setting foot in our crazy world as I write this. It had been a means to an end, although one that I could not have expected to happened quite so soon in my lifetime. We were bunker-ed down, whether I liked it or not. I knew this is what had to be. I knew that if we had any chance of survival, this was it. 

I asked Johnie, shortly after we had all settled and my Mom, Grandma and Aunt had settled in the kitchen to prepare a celebratory feast of tuna noodle casserole, heated by our gas powered counter oven, what would happen if someone was looking for us, for survivors, and found us? 

I find it odd now that he deflected my questioning. At the time I was not sure if it was a purposeful act, but thinking back, I am for certain it was a ploy to not answer my questions. Why? This made me think that something had happened to the cave that we entered in. I am starting to hyperventilate at this thought. The thought of being trapped. Trapped, alive, underneath the ground. 

It had only been about half a day and I was already missing the blue sky, the sunlight that would shine through that little window we had just a day before. The concerts would be heard of the birds singing their tranquil songs was now far away and the deafness of it was almost as if it were to much to bare.

The girls were settled in one of the room, presumably the one that they had now laid claim on, the one that I unknowingly had sought out as theirs but placing toys of different sorts in the room. They were deep in play with Lego building and farm animals lined up all around either side of their buildings. Unphased by all that was happening around them. They seemed oblivious. I, of course, knew better, but it was a weight off of my shoulders to see them behaving so normally. 

My Mom's brother, my Uncle and Father-in-law were playing cards with Johnie at the card table that was set up along the wall of the common room. 

I stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene that surrounded me. I was inhaling the normalcy that was our safe haven. No birds were chirping.  The sunshine could not be seen, but here were eleven people who were making the best of this situation. They were living. We were living. That had to be enough for now.



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How did you use the word, CONCERT within your story? 

Was it difficult to affix it in the writing? 


I hope that everyone is finding their writing groove and having as much fun as possible!  This is about learning how to take a word and challenge yourself to turning that word into a piece of your story...your art. 




Until Tomorrow!
~Kel




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