Random words: even, humility, daylight, dozens, envelope, dinner, limitless, northern, kidnapper, agony.
Even as daylight faded, the envelope just sat there. Dinner had long been eaten, the dishes washed and put away. I just couldn’t face it again. I couldn’t face the agony of opening that envelope and reading what the kidnapper had written to me. Dozens of years had passed since that day. The cruelty of that man was limitless. Year after year, he wrote on the anniversary of her kidnapping. I had long since given up on the FBI. They were never able to trace anything on those letters. All I had left was my loneliness and humility. There but for the grace of God… The northern light shone in her empty room, showing everything but what I longed to see. This year, the envelope remains unopened.
Random words: pretzel, zither, scissors, porcine, butter, indigenous, olive, paw, flagpole, tulip.
Nothing twists me up like a pretzel than the sound of a zither. It all started that day by the flagpole when a porcine zitherist took his scissors to my indigenous tulip garden and cut down every single last one of my tulips. Needless to say, I wanted to paw his eyes out, but I held my temper in check, sat down to my dish of olive butter slathered bagels, and ate till my anger was just a dim memory. Now, not only do I not have any tulips, but I have to go on a diet.
Random words: umbrella, jackhammer, veil, cornucopia, disheveled, blossom, umlaut, bridge, doll, butterscotch.
I saw the butterscotch colored hair of the doll first. Walking my dog in Central Park, I had just gone under a bridge in the park, and I saw this old-fashioned china faced doll with the most gorgeous hair I’d ever seen. I looked around for its owner, but saw no one. The doll’s dress was disheveled in a long-lost, left to the elements kind of way. At least the bridge had acted like a sort of umbrella for it. Who knew how long it had lain there. I heard a jackhammer nearby as my dog nosed at the doll. The doll wasn’t the only lost item under the bridge; there was a veritable cornucopia of detritus left to be found or ignored: keys, trash, a cigarette lighter, even a kerosene lamp. As I held the doll, I saw its dress was covered in tiny clusters of dots like umlauts forlorn without their vowels. I felt an idea blossom there underneath the bridge. So I straightened the veil on my habit, and headed straight for the doll hospital on Lexington Avenue filled with divine purpose.
Random words: pipe, pimple, appliance, clock, pacemaker, guerrilla, cinema, cloud, glacier, suitcase.
I just saw my brother’s guerrilla warfare documentary at the boutique cinema on the edge of town. It is such a beautiful movie, but it is his last. I still can’t believe he’s gone. His pacemaker just stopped right as he finished filming the last scene of the movie. Stopped! I thought they were supposed to work like a clock. I guess they’re just like any other appliance, prone to breakdowns. I still remember him as a teenager, pimple-faced, smoking a pipe in an attempt at sophistication. And now he’s just gone. I can’t shake this cloud of despair. I think I’ll pack my suitcase and head for the glacier where we grew up dreaming of the rainforest and South America.
Random words: skeleton, kaleidoscope, gun, fence, current, rubber, staircase, window, tub, parachute.
Walking into the house, my eye catches the skeleton under the staircase. It’s so odd. Why is it there? Whose is it? When was it put there? I just remember it always being there. It’s like looking out your window and seeing the fence in your yard, but not seeing it. The fence is always there, but you don’t pay attention to it. But a skeleton is not a fence. It’s not an everyday object like a tub or a rubber stamp. It should be like seeing a gun in your house, shocking. I can’t imagine getting used to a gun, and yet I am so used to that skeleton. I try to sift through the kaleidoscope of my memories to remember the first time I saw it. Was it always there? I need a parachute to deal with the current rushing through my mind. Suddenly, I remember. Oh god, I remember now but I wish I didn’t. I can’t breathe. I sink into blackness.
Random words: knife, song, cave, broom, template, hammer, fungus, graph, ovaries, trigger.
With a knife and a hammer, I can make just about anything if I had to. You see, I live off the grid, in a cave. Sure, I have to deal with a bit of fungus here and there, but I sure don’t have to deal with ovaries at all, if you get my drift. Although if you give a woman a broom, at least she can be useful. I want to be left by myself. I got tired of the cookie cutter life template that had been stuffed down my throat all my life. I didn’t want to become some nerdy analyst wasting away in an office. Just looking at a graph is a trigger for me. Oh no, I wanted to live alone and work on my song. It’s a saga ballad. Right now, it’s about 379 verses long and through composed. So you can imagine how much work it is to write it, I’m sure. Well, thanks for trespassing. But it’s time for you to leave. Then I won’t have to knife you.
Random words: army, fly, parasite, spear, booby-trap, bruise, button, dress, chord, radar.
The booby-trap was set. There was no way that fly was gonna get free. I worked all day on that web. I’m exhausted. Now all I have to do is wait. No wait! I have to hide, then I wait. Okay, I’m under the leaf right next to where the branch connects to the trunk. Now I wait. I watch the army of ants march right on past me on their way to the picnic below. How fortuitous that I set my trap on the day of a food-filled picnic. The flies will be here in droves. I might not have to wait for long. I’m like a parasite waiting for my picnic host to provide my next meal. My web looks neat and tidy with strands arcing out in orderly rows. The slightest breeze or touch acts like a radar sending the vibrations to me where I lay in wait. Oh this endless waiting is killing me. It took me so long to make this web, my spinneret feels like one big bruise. Aha! My moment has come! A fly just buzzed by inspecting the picnic below. It flies close to my web. Oh! One leg has become stuck! I race over before the fly can manage to unstick itself. Its wings beat making a fretful chord of music. Just as it seems the fly may get away, I spear it with one of my legs. Quickly, I dress it in strands to ensure my tasty meal stays ensnared. Ah, cute as a button it looks, all trussed up. Bon appetit!