Klutz

That's what I'm changing my name to. I just tripped over a gear bag, fell flat on my face, slammed my shoulder into a steel tank, and my head into a tab projecting from a toolbox. Ouch. I used to be graceful and a whole lot less clumsy. I have an icepack on my noggin.

July 30--Write about an eclipse--The shadow of the earth glides like black death over the face of the burning star in the sky turning day into night, sending birds to roost, and causing dogs to howl. The scene is lit by an otherworldly orange glow that turns skin to a sickly red and looks like it should reveal secrets writton on faces like hidden tattoos. The prepared ones stand in silence, faces upturned, wearing glasses with black lenses to keep from incinerating their retinas, looking like ranks of religious believer adoring their prophet. The wind has dropped, barely a leaf stirs as if the entire planet is holding its breath waiting to see if the day star will reemerge from captivity.

One of these days I'll be really happy with what I write about this prompt. Every time I try I get a little closer. See you later, aching cranium and all. I've got the Bananagrams!
--Barbara