The exercise:
Write four lines of prose that have something to do with: overflowing.
I scrounged up about two pints (maybe a pound and a half?) of strawberries this morning, to go along with a handful of raspberries. So, uh, not really enough to justify going to the farmers market tomorrow morning.
We're skipping this weekend, with the expectation that by next Saturday we will have more than enough berries to make the trip worth our while. We'll probably bring along any remaining tomato plants that still look good, but the berries will obviously be the focus.
In other news, Max got me out of bed at 5:15 this morning. There was no way he was making it through the day on that little sleep, so he had a mid-afternoon nap. As I'm typing this it is shortly before midnight and he is just now settling down for sleep.
This is why we usually don't let him have naps anymore.
Mine:
She walks slowly through the market, the basket in her hand causing her to tilt dangerously to her right. It is as though her left foot is barely touching the ground when it is its turn to inch her onward. Apples, potatoes, onions, beets; they appear to be working together to try to tip her sideways.
Surely it is merely a matter of time before she falls... ah, never mind - a nudge from an absent-minded fellow shopper is all it took to correct the issue.
3 comments:
5:15 is early! I can see it's been a long day for you, and you wouldn't have had the advantage of an afternoon nap. Still, he may sleep longer tomorrow so you should get a lie-in :)
Well, it may be a shame to miss the market this week, but I'm sure you'll put those berries to good use nonetheless! The raspberries sound delicious.
Heh, had you written that after the market I'd have taken it as something you'd actually seen happen there! Nicely pulled together in just four lines.
Overflowing
"The cornucopia is overflowing again," said Myrtle. Her husband sighed and lowered his newspaper, the bottom edges rustling against his knees.
"What with?" he asked, a note of trepidation in his voice.
"The entire basement is flooded with milk," said Myrtle, "so it is better than when it overflowed with fish, but the level's rising and I'd rather not have the carpets smelling of cheese!"
I always knew that arterial blood had pressure behind it, that that is why blood draws were aimed at veins instead. But I had no idea how it could just keep pouring out of a wound like the dagger in Evander’s back. Within the time it took for him to fall to his knees, his vest had already darkened, the sun reflected off the wetness blooming around the dagger hilt.
As mesmerizing and terrifying as it was, I wrenched my gaze away from Evander and towards Cris experiencing his own outpouring around the arrow lodged into his chest.
Greg - nope. Sleeping in just does not seem to be a thing he does, no matter what time he goes to bed the night before.
That seems like a... less than ideal... location for a cornucopia. At least one that is prone to such severe overflows!
Ivy - ah, that's a neat take on the prompt, and well executed. Great details really bring this one to life.
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