Friday October 14th, 2011

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: purpose.

Not a lot of harvesting to do this morning, as we're bringing mostly apples and squash to the market tomorrow. We did manage to get some potatoes, a few pints of cherry tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, and a handful of corn. Pretty much every night now comes with the threat of frost, so I'd be surprised if we have any of that stuff still around for next week.

Third to last market of the year, here we come!


"This kind of defeats the purpose, don't you think?" I ask Nick in a tone weaker than I intended.

"That depends," he replies as he pauses in his work, "on what exactly you think the purpose is."

"It's a charity event," I mumble while staring at my shoe tops, "so the money is meant for the needy."

"I'm so glad you agree," Nick says with a wide smile as he returns to stuffing the money in his backpack, "because I really need to pay off my credit card bills."


Greg said...

I guess the apples and squash will survive a frosty night or two, so they'll be the market goods for the last couple of markets then? How's the part-time job hunt coming along?
I think I like Nick, though when I reached the last line I did start to wonder if he isn't actually Henri with a pseudonym!

Jenny was knitting with a purpose. The bottle of bourbon was three-quarters empty already and her needles were a clicking blur. Around the room, the rest of the knitting circle had one-by-one laid their own knitting down, and were now staring, mostly open-mouthed at Jenny.
"Is that... is that really a Fairisle sweater... for a... sheep?" asked Mrs. Demorphin in a horrified whisper.

Brittany P. said...

Mitchell set his wrinkled hand on the kitchen counter. He studied the mica top, searching in the counter's design for his purpose. Why did he go to the kitchen? His frown deepened, revealing worry lines etched on his brow. For an instant, he forgot completely where he was and who he was. Scared, he shifted his aging body to the dining table and sat down. A tear formed and escaped down his cheek as he realized something. He was more afraid of slowly forgetting everything and everyone than he was of death.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, them and the potatoes.

The job hunt is going slowly, but that's okay. Still keeping busy around the farm and just wanting to get it started. I shall keep you posted :)

Jenny! :D

Brittany - that's extremely powerful. Beautifully handled.

world of experience said...

The cow in the field eats grass to make us milk.
The bird flies in the sky to make us feel free.
The fish swims in the sea to be eaten by bigger fish or us.
Humans do, be and think as much as they can, to keep busy, earn money, feel important.
The grass grows under our feet, oblivious to any other purpose.

Marc said...

World of Exp. - liked the philosophic take on the prompt :)

Drake Davenport said...

That was an awesome story. Nick sounds like someone I would enjoy reading a book about.

This is it, Braq thought as he hefted his sword above his head, letting out a battle cry that could be heard around the world. This is my destiny; who I am; what I was born to do.

The men rallied behind him as he headed toward his destiny. And then- then the sword came down.

Marc said...

Drake - great imagery in your scene, very powerful stuff.