 | Hurrah, the flash fiction challenges are back and the prompt is the perfect fit for my aspirations for my first post of 2023. I always enjoy reviewing my reading and writing plans and aspirations for the previous year and listing what I hope to achieve in the year to come. This year, I thought it might be a little different: having been quite ill in late spring and early summer, I’ve been wondering how to balance work and letting go. |
There’s still a lot I want to achieve in my writing but – while I’m almost back to my usual fitness – the shock of my immune system attacking my body lingers on. I thought a 99-word story about a sabbatical might help me explore the question of whether I need to be less driven.
But the words didn’t come. Nor did the inclination to set out my goals for the year. I was about to accept I was going to take a sabbatical from the sabbatical prompt when I did some idle googling and discovered that, as well as the usual meaning of an academic break, it’s an archaic word for the sabbath. A few minutes later, I had my story. Maybe the lesson for me is remembering to play.
But the words didn’t come. Nor did the inclination to set out my goals for the year. I was about to accept I was going to take a sabbatical from the sabbatical prompt when I did some idle googling and discovered that, as well as the usual meaning of an academic break, it’s an archaic word for the sabbath. A few minutes later, I had my story. Maybe the lesson for me is remembering to play.
The first sabbatical
He’d toiled bloody hard, there was no denying it. Beginning with light so he could see the results when he created the sky, the soil, the sea. Some think he should’ve spent less time on the galaxies, but he never suspected they’d waste their precious resources on rocketing to the stars.
After two days on the animals – land, air and water – he was knackered. Yet he regrets devoting the seventh day to relaxation when there was so much left to do. Those hours swinging in a hammock should’ve gone to improving the humans, ensuring they wouldn’t ruin his work.
He’d toiled bloody hard, there was no denying it. Beginning with light so he could see the results when he created the sky, the soil, the sea. Some think he should’ve spent less time on the galaxies, but he never suspected they’d waste their precious resources on rocketing to the stars.
After two days on the animals – land, air and water – he was knackered. Yet he regrets devoting the seventh day to relaxation when there was so much left to do. Those hours swinging in a hammock should’ve gone to improving the humans, ensuring they wouldn’t ruin his work.
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