 Handprints from Cueva de las Manos (Cave of Hands), Spain. Most of us have seen photographs of the Paleolithic paintings on the walls of France's Grotte Chauvet. Some of the pictures are 32,000 years old.
While the horses, owls, and rhinoceros are exquisite, what I find haunting are the hands. Hundreds of outlined hands cover the walls, some imprinting the animal paintings with a kind of artist's signature, some all on their own or in groupings. Not limited to the famous European caves, similar handprints are found worldwide, in places as diverse as South America and Australia. Their makers pressed their hands onto stone walls throughout the centuries and millennium, forming 'a great crowd of witnesses' to humanity's unwritten history. While the words of men seem to dominate much of our written history, prehistory was more egalitarian. Modern analysis and measurements show that many, if not most, of the Grotte Chauvet's handprints, belonged to women. What were these women saying? What were their stories? I believe their stories are essentially the same as ours: I was here. I lived. I loved. For just a moment, I was. And so they were. And so we are. Let us whisper our adventures into our daughters' ears. Let's laugh with our friends, and write our hopes and dreams in our journals, letters, and blogs. Tell your story. Leave a handprint on the Wall.
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 Today has been an exciting day! Received the news this morning that my little 'trash bandit' poem for the 10th annual #Halloweensie contest received an honorable mention! Check out all the other winners and prizes here on Susanna Hill's blog.  Results are in and I'm thrilled to learn my take on the Little Red Riding Hood story was among the winners.
A big, big thank you to both organizers Kaitlyn Sanchez and Lydia Lukidis as well as guest judge Donna Barbra Higuera. Read more about the contest, as well as all the fabulous writers and their prizes here on Lydia Lukidis' blog. Though the contest is over, the Fall Writing Frenzy fun isn't! Kaitlyn found a way to keep the writing energy going--check it out here. 2020 Halloweensie Contest It's time once again for Susanna Hill's Halloweensie contest. (10 years and going strong!) The challenge: write a kid-friendly story of 100 words or fewer, incorporating the prompt words. This year's words are: skeleton, creep, mask. So, naturally my thoughts turned to these cute little bandits:  THE TRASH BANDIT by Carrie Karnes-Fannin Under a thin, dark moon, the masked bandit creeps (hand over hand) along a thieves’ highway strung above dented and dusty trashcans filled with skeletons of meals past. Gripping the humming, thrumming wires, she stops, (swaying so slightly) and peeks through frosted panes into the (strange, still) wood and stone dens of furless two-legged beasts. A silent shadow, she takes what’s needed, and washes her bandit’s hands of the rest. Then, (unseen by the tame, yawning tomcat), the masked thief shakes her striped tail and steals back into the (singing, thriving) oh-so-wild night. (96 words)
RED On a new moon night in an ancient wood, Rose, a red shadow of a girl, slipped between trees and spread her hood on the damp ground, waiting for Lupe, who ran with a wolf’s silence through the forest toward her. "People will talk," Rose whispered. "Let them," Lupe replied, her dark hair a shining tangle weaving them together. "We don't have to." And Lupe was right-- no words were needed between them. Night passed as they held hands, and watched stars spin round the sky. When morning was still a rumor, a huntsman, tracking deer, found instead Rose and Lupe, asleep, wrapped in the scarlet cloak. Rose's heart skipped as Lupe leapt to shield her. "What will you do?" Lupe demanded of him, knowing Rose was afraid of her village’s words biting and cutting them. "I will keep your secret," the boy offered. For though a hunter, he wasn't cruel. “Thank you, friend,” Rose replied, borrowing bravery from Lupe’s kisses. "But there's no secret here." They walked homeward, with fingers entwined. A crowd gathered, but no words were said, except one: “Welcome.” For people saw, shining like the full moon, a love that would become legend. (197 words, inspired by photo #6) Happy World Poetry Day! Here is my little contribution to the celebration.
THE SONGS OF BEES by Carrie Karnes Fannin Elms bend underneath the snow, their branches dreaming of buzzing and light. Shaking off the cold, bare limbs stretch and make ready to welcome their friends, as the warm winds slip between the trees, whispering green rumors of Spring. Their bold buds lift up to meet the young sun as she takes her morning place, lighting a path for stumbling, dusty bees who hum golden honey songs. |
