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| http://io9.com/concept-art-writing-prompt-the-creature-waiting-at-the-769946202 |
Slurp.
“You keep staring at
me like I can’t see you. I have
monocular vision: I’m looking directly at you.
You want some?”
She didn’t hesitate, “You were here the other day.” It wasn’t friendly.
“Yes.” Slurp.
She stared at the hills, but looking through them. Clouds monochromatically filtered the day –
all had an even tint, contrasts were not subtle. Her red hair was the only colour for
miles. I switched to my left eye. Where was that bus? I thoughtlessly tossed the juice box to the
ground.
“You have to do that?”
Her glance burned at me. At least
she didn’t bare teeth, I couldn’t take too much of that, “What?”
“You threw it like the world is a trash can.”
“It goes away.” I
lamely put two of my arms out in a sweep to explain the world was big enough.
She swung down grabbing it and throwing it in the bin, “That
hard to do?”
She walked out of my field of view, to the front; I was
forced to tilt my body to track her. She
walked into the street to spot the bus. She
returned next to me, “It doesn’t just go away: it gets worse and someone else
has to get it.”
“Then it’s taken care of, right?” I should’ve been friendlier. I should be friendlier about everything, to
be honest.
She was done with me and dropped into the bench. A notebook flew out and she started to write
furiously. Occasionally she’d glanced up
to give my back a look of disgust.
When the bus pulled up, she rushed in. The driver stared as I didn’t move, “You
coming?” The best I could do was swiveling
my body left to right laterally, a facsimile of ‘no’.
“Alright,” the bus pulled away and it would take forty
minutes for the next. I needed to be
nicer if I were to get on with these folks.
I pulled out another juice box.
The stream of fetid garbage juice was necessary to sustain life. I’ll throw it in the bin next time.
Slurp.
~~~
~~~
Charlie Guest: Chapter 9 posted.
~~~
Getty Statue posted.
~~~
Monday's Mug on sale.
~~~
~~~
"…and
strange delights, new to your seeing;
Ingest
much: as eyes transform being.
We’ll
of passion’s treasures go chasing
Divine
aspects: fancy’s embracing.
Lack
parting sorrows; none to fearing
Strike
to sun’s light: Fore e’er steering
Lash
fast to hope and heart, n’er sever-
So
I be yours, one and forever."
- "Chase: Cut Short", 2001
~~~
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