The Carrot Ranch Literary Community April 22, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about earthing. Put a character’s hands, feet or body and soul into the earth. Who needs recharging? What happens between the interaction? Go where the prompt leads!
Two unrelated takes from me, one dark one not.
“You wanna get up and run some more?”
He struck her again. She fell to the ground.
He stood over her. “Did you really think you could get away from me?”
Leaf mold pillowed her broken jaw. She couldn’t answer if she’d wanted to.
“You.” He kicked her.
“Will not.” Kicked her again.
Then he staggered back to the house, left her where she lay.
Stretched flat against the cool earth, she breathed in the sweet musty air. She reached her fingers and toes deep into the soil. She gathered strength, gathered courage.
The raised beds were filled with rich well-drained loam that she tilled and prepared for planting. Carefully she marked rows and sowed seeds. She nurtured the seedlings; diligently thinned, weeded, mulched and watered her growing greens and vegetable plants. All the raised beds were lush and verdant, except one.
One bed remained unplanted, though it was also carefully cultivated, its dark friable soil sun warmed.
“Welcoming,” she felt.
Only she knew that she planted that bed every day. Planted herself; then rose up, brushed herself off, raked the bed smooth, always leaving the garden feeling refreshed, smelling of earth.