Truth in Fiction

I've been meaning to work on my creative writing skills for a while, but I spend so much time working on my analytical writing, that I often lose interest come evening. So I'm going to try and commit to writing for a minimum of 10 minutes a night 3 to 5 nights a week to practice. I guess it's my resolution for 2012. Who knows, my jumbled thoughts might make for an interesting read or two. They may even link into an occasional story, but I have no real agenda with it other than to hold myself publicly accountable on the blog.


Entry 1:
Trees surround him like columns, a shaft of light shines through the thick canopy, full of specks. It reminds him of a cathedral in Cordoba, Spain that he used to visit as a child. Funny place it was, full of contradiction and the physical embodied of centuries of religious power struggles. It was a pagan temple, then a Visigoth church that was turned into a mosque by the Moores and then reconverted into a Christian church. Not surprisingly, it's still controversial.
Despite being an atheist, religious analogies are the only way that he can verbalize how his runs through the forest make him feel. He is daydreaming and his eyes wander up to the roof of leaves.
"Shit!" he thinks, as a root seemingly reaches up out of the dirt and grabs at his right toe. He stumbles forward and feels his body go tense, preparing for a fall. He windmills his arms and catches himself. His heart rate has suddenly quickened and he feels incredibly alert, but also a bit embarrassed. Although he hasn't passed anyone for the past 20 minutes and he hardly ever sees anyone in this part of the mountain, he does a quick look around, certain that a group of hikers, or, worse, another runner, caught his moment of weakness.
"Pay attention" he chastises himself. He realizes that his right ankle is a bit sore and tight from the unexpected jerk. He focuses on it for a few steps, assessing the range of motion and level of discomfort. "It's alright" he thinks after five or six gingerly taken steps. He allows his full weight to land on the foot and his attention drifts from the feeling in his ankle back to driving himself quickly and silently along the trail.