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!
Random words: bellybutton, stampede, unicorn, turquoise, hairbrush, tuxedo, mummy, lattice, pensive, tank.
It was just another day, just like any other. A unicorn stampede and a mummy in a tuxedo passed me on the road outside of Cairo. I didn’t even know there were unicorns in Egypt. I thought they were strictly a Bavarian myth kind of thing. And why was the mummy wearing a tuxedo? Was this some kind of reverse anachronism? Anyway, no pensive bellybutton gazing for me. I was in my used tank (you’d be surprised how cheap they are on eBay!) on my way to the pyramid. I had just dyed my hair turquoise and needed to buy a new hairbrush. I entered the pyramid through the lattice gate. The Pharaoh greeted me chillily, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t there to make nice. I just wanted to get in and out with my new hairbrush. Well, wouldn’t you know it, but the unicorn and the mummy were there too. So I bought them all a drink, including the Pharaoh, and that’s how it all started.
Random Words: Pen, springboard, garden, meteor, logjam, fertilizer, herb, horizon, footprint, chessboard.
My garden spread out before me. It was a small garden bordered by a high grayish brown fence on three sides. I could not see the horizon with all the neighbors’ houses so close to my own. But the garden was green and it was mine. I loved to sit out on the porch in the mornings drinking my coffee, a springboard to my day. My garden both relaxed me and energized me. It was mostly a flower garden, but there were also raspberry bushes. Oh how I love raspberries. The bushes never grew enough berries at one time to make homemade jam, but you could eat them right off the bush to your heart’s content. No herb plants though. I still can’t grow herbs for long. They just keep dying on me. I don’t have a green thumb. My garden was actually someone else’s altogether. I was just a temporary caretaker, living in the house less than two years. What a logjam of memories from such a short period of time. That garden was probably the best part of those years, and I didn’t even create it. It is still a fertilizer for my mind. The utter stillness in all that growth. My pen stops as I remember the light. I always remember the light. It was a cool blue light most times, lying in the shadows. During the heat of the day, it was a steamy bright yellow. Of course, I’m speaking of the summer months when the garden was redolent with green spicy notes hanging in the heavy air, filled so lushly with undergrowth that not one footprint was ever visible. The winding stone path meandered around haphazardly and half hidden. Every time I walked it, I would see something new, some flower or leaf I had not seen before. It felt like an endless discovery. One time, I found a jack in the pulpit! There were so many different greens in the garden, it was like a shifting chessboard of crayola colors shimmering before you. My time there was so short. It was like a meteor in my life, there for an instant and then gone. I’m not even sure it existed. But I will remember it always.