Thursday May 1st, 2014

The exercise:

Welcome to May, the 2014 version. Now write something that has to do with: careful what you wish for.

Inspired by Greg's comment on yesterday's post, much to my character's chagrin...

We managed to get almost all of our onions into the garden this morning. Things were slowed a little by temperatures reaching toward 30 degrees (officially it hit 27, though I would be surprised if it wasn't hotter here), but it was still a good start.

In the afternoon I took a drive to our local farm supply store to pick up some organic fertilizer and diatomaceous earth.

Because those cutworms are going to die. Tonight, preferably.


I am free at last. There is real, live vegetation brushing against my legs as I walk. Coconut water still lingers on my lips, my tongue, my throat. I can feel it in my belly, moving with me in a comforting way that the sea never did.

As to how I got here... I am not proud. Utterly necessary, without question, but I do not wish to think on it. The lies, the sneaking about. Getting caught, sliced throats and blood pooling on the deck. Not my finest moment.

But I am here. That is what matters. That is all that matters. I am alive and on solid earth once more. Where I belong. Island or mainland, I cannot possibly care.

The past is behind me and will stay there. I must keep my eyes forward. No time for looking back. Enjoy the feel of this tree against my fingers. Allow the birdsong to caress my eardrums. Breathe deep the smell of wet earth and flowering plants and... cooking meat?

What's this? A clearing up ahead. A bonfire burning bright. People seated around it, each one very nearly naked. How strange. I should change course.

But that aroma keeps pulling me forward...


Greg said...

I'm starting to believe that you live in a desert, as you seem to swing between temperature extremes without a whole lot of time between each swing. Still, I'm sure you're enjoying the sunshine more than the snow!
The diatomaceous earth sounds like good stuff, and pesticide free as well! I'm not entirely convinced by the article's report of people eating a quarter-cup a day in order to live beyond 100, but each to their own I guess.
Ah, your poor sailor. I'm sure he didn't deserve to be dumped on what I suspect is a cannibal isle! He sounds pretty happy with his lot so far, for all his machiavellian scheming to get there :)

Careful what you wish for
There were six rows of people gathered around the grave, and the Presiding Religious Authority (he preferred to be called Des) had to clear his voice several times before the mutterings and sobbings died down to a suitable level for him to speak and eulogise. However, he only got two sentences in before the child's mother started crying again. He paused, hoping that her husband would calm her down.
"She was six!" screamed the mother, pulling herself away from her husband's arms. "SIX!"
Two more people stepped forward to try and calm the distraught woman, and she tried to escape, slipped on the slick earth, and tumbled into the grave. Des tried very hard not to roll his eyes, and beckoned to the gravedigggers, who were stood off to one side, sharing a cigarette, to get a ladder and help her out.
When she safely back on the side of the grave, and being discretely held by her husband and his two burly brothers, Des tried again.
"SIX!" bellowed the mother, struggling. "Six! I wish she were still alive!"
Silence fell as the words sank in and everyone felt a horror at what had been said. And in that silence came the tapping of a little fist on the inside of the waiting coffin.

Marc said...

Greg - well, we do! And apparently we're heading back toward highs of 9 or 10 on Sunday, so there you go.

I don't think anyone could convince me to consume the stuff myself, but I'm hopeful that it'll do what we need it to do in the greenhouse.

That's a delightfully horrific tale you've shared here. That ending is just... yeah, very good work.

Also: Des seems like an interesting character and I wouldn't mind hearing more from him :)