The Dough is Risen!

This was my first creative free write in nearly 10 years and I wrote it last fall. The topic was touch—the squish of kneading dough between your fingers, the smooth texture of it when you pat it and roll it out.
There was nothing like making bread dough to satisfy her. While most people longed for the toasty smell of it baking in the oven, she longed to relieve her stress and take all of her frustration out on the risen dough. Unlike many forms of stress relief, using risen dough requires a certain amount of patience and time since it takes over an hour to make the dough and allow it to rise. Having already done these things, she was at long last able to punish the dough before her. First, she thrust her fist heavily into the bowl, feeling the dough collapse around her hand and hearing the satisfying hiss of air rushing out. But that was just the beginning. As she took in the scent of risen yeast, she mercilessly punched and punched to release every air pocket and every ounce of anger she could find. She dipped her hand into the silky flour and sprinkled it onto the table in a wide circle. Next, she forced the dough out of the bowl and into the snowy surface. She worked and worked, turning the dough and putting her soul into its kneading, adding flour when it became too sticky until finally she could run her hand over it, feeling its smooth elasticity. She viciously tore a chunk off, grabbed her rolling pin and began working the dough into an oblong shape. Placing the dough onto a pizza pan, she tugged at its stubborn edges, willing it into shape. The corners were always the trickiest part. She tore holes in the dough as she tugged in frustration, having to repair them by squishing the edges of each hole together into one piece. She carefully popped any remaining air bubbles taking in the floury scent. She could breathe again. She felt like herself again. She took the remaining chunk, this time less viciously, and began to roll it gently in the flour. This piece was not as challenging. This piece was more lovable and pliable. There were no holes torn in frustration as she worked the dough into the corners of the pan. Once finished, she slowly ran her hands under the faucet, watching the drops leave patterns on her pasty white skin as she worked to rid her hands of tenacious dough remnants.
This entry made me think of my experiences baking pizzas. I’ve sort of gotten out of baking, but my mom still loves to make pizza and bread. I don’t know if she vents to the dough as much as I used to, but it really felt great to beat the living daylights out of some dough once in a while. Perhaps, I need to make some pizza again. Are there any activities that allow you to vent frustration in unusual ways? What are they? How do you get rid of that heavy anger we all experience at times? Please leave a comment down below and tell me your stories.

In Search of Ilithor

The Free Write
This post is based on a free write I did earlier this month. A free write is a writing exercise where you use a pre-written prompt or personal experience and write about it for at least 10-15 minutes. This is a great way to unlock your brain if you feel creatively blocked or just to help generate ideas for whatever you might be writing. There are many websites and blogs and provide such prompts. This writing, however, was taken from a personal experience I will explain further at the end of the post. Enjoy!
The Story
Aaron had the monster in his sights as he breezed through time and space, overcoming every obstacle. He steered the ship easily around stacks of cans and small boxes. He was going to succeed this time. The endgame boss, Ilithor, slipped around the corner, dodging each missile Aaron fired from the control panel. He wasn’t going to be an easy catch. Aaron tried to steer his ship quickly around an asteroid, but the left wing clipped the giant rock. -4,000 hit points=fail. Aaron restarted his ship, again in pursuit of the scaled green, slimy Ilithor, determined this time to reduce him to mere particles among the stars. Carefully yet swiftly, he maneuvered the ship around obstacles with Ilithor locked in his sights. He fired the first missile—success! Ilithor was -1,000 hit points. Only 4,000 left to go and he still had 5 missiles. That left a little room for error but not much. Aaron locked Ilithor in his sights once again and fired. Ilithor slipped around the side of an asteroid. Epic fail! Now he only had 4 missiles. He sped his ship forward, gaining on Ilithor. He fired again. Boom! Ilithor lost another 1,000 hit points. Aaron was getting tired of messing around with this boss. He pulled out his super missile, the SP1000. He was trying to take aim, but Ilithor was moving quickly, veering from left to right and back again at a rapid pace. He whipped around the side of another asteroid and Aaron followed, setting the SP1000’s sights on Ilithor. Aaron saw his moment as the target locked and fired. The missile soared through space and blew Ilithor into millions of tiny particles. Achievement unlocked: Slimer—defeat Ilithor. Suddenly, Aaron felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up at his mother. “Time to go, hon.” He steered the cart out to the parking lot, knowing he’d be back next week.
The Experience
While I was doing my regular grocery shopping once I saw a young man in the store who made shopping with his mother at age 10 or 11 (a ghastly thing to many boys that age) into a game. The mother would instruct him to put something in the cart and he would do so, giving himself achievement points quietly. At one point he took a corner too fast and bruised his leg, which was a loss of hit points in his words. I was so amused since I have a gamer hubby that I just had to share this story. I hope you enjoyed it! Have you ever overheard anything interesting that inspired you to write something or document the story in a journal or scrapbook? It could be your children at play or a conversation you heard in a public place. Please tell me about it in the comments section.