“Feeding Frenzy”

Cathy of Rant’s and Ramblings invited me again to a writer’s workshop. She issues a prompt, in this case, the phrase;

“I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.”

The interesting twist however, is that this sentence is not the title nor the first line, but rather the last line.

Her previous prompt that I wrote for was based on writing a story that ended with the line “an innocent victim of lie told in silence.” I decided to write a poem for that prompt instead.

“Hurts”

They never told me not to go there
the stony path by the river wild
where the moss covered logs
lay heavy across the ground
slick with moisture rotted wood
an obstacle to be overcome
I clamber over to find a hole
deep into the earth it goes
no light will ever come back
for fallen in will last forever
An innocent victim
of a lie told in silence.

I wasn’t planning on participating in this new prompt, but all of them leaned on me and *suggested* that we collaborate on a story. This is the result that we wrote on Sat. Dec 2nd while I was at work. We spent about two hours together in our living room, which we have just started using as a safe place to all be together. Sometimes we talk, or dance or just sit around and chill.

Cast of Characters:

Brian
Dewy
Bernard
Pit Bull
Little Brian

“Feeding Frenzy”

The flash of the cameras were blinding as she stumbled up the steps. Hand over hand dragging her bleeding body ever higher as her life force slowly ebbed away.

“I don’t like this story.” (That’s Little Brian).

“Ok, how about this.” said Brian.
Great gouts of water splashed over the glass walls of the tank. Those sitting in the front rows were doused with the icy liquid as the killer whale gorged on the fish thrown him. “Wheeeeeee!!!” said LB clapping his hands. “Darn it!!” said Dewy, “now my shirt is all wet and showing all my rounded assets.”

“Cut” yelled Bernard. “Dewy, that’s not in the script! How many times do we have to do this?”

“And who is the star here Mr. Fancy Pants director??” Dewy retorted, fire flashing from her eyes and her wet, silken locks flowing around her body as the audience lusted…

“Enough bickering you two. We’re trying to write a story here.” Brian said. “Can we please get on with it.”

“I have an idea sir.” Pit Bull spoke up. “Perhaps a more challenging story line is needed.”

“Such as?” B said tapping his foot impaitently.

“Will you just chill out bunny boy?” snapped D. “Let PB have his say.”

PB gave a courtly bow as he said, “thank you my lady. You are a jewel in the firmament of blog world.” PB cleared his throat and began his story. “There was a young boy who grew to be a man. Along the way he knew pain, and fear and suffering. But he also knew love and caring and laughter. He met a woman and they married as was wont in those times, but still there was a hole in his soul. He tried many a pleasure to fill that void, but it always left a sour taste in his nether regions.”

“What’s a nether region?” asked LB pulling his thumb out of his mouth.

D. smiled, “just your bottom sweetie.”

LB thought for awhile. “Can I put my nether region in your lap?”

There was a shocked silence in the living room, as LB had never sat on anyone’s lap before; ever. D. held out her arms and LB climbed up and sat down and rested his head on her chest. “You’re soft here.” he said looking up into her face. D. just nodded and tears came to her eyes. “Your eyes are watering.” LB ran his fingers over her cheek through the moisture and D. just held him tight and cried.

(An intermission break please; in which I had lunch and tried to control the tears.)

“All right everyone! Lunch is over! Places; and action! ” Bernard shouted out, his voice echoing off the living room walls. Four pair of eyes swiveled in unison to glare at him in disdain. Bernard gulped and quickly sat back down.

“I do believe that you PB, were in the middle of the story?” B gestured for him to continue.

“He finally found an outlet that did not curdle his innards in a form of verbal spewing called the blog.” intoned PB.

“Excuse me? Verbal spewing? Is that what you think I do?” Dewy asked with her hands on her hips.

“Not you, fairest creature in the land, (except for Echo). The so called Bunny spews all day and all night! I can never sleep!” said PB.

“Well if you weren’t skulking about in darkness all the time, maybe we could open the windows and let the light in!” B. fumed.

LB spoke up, “please stop fighting. I don’t like it when people yell, bad things happen when people yell at me.”

PB and B both knelt down in front of LB and apologized for their rants. They all shook hands and solemnly swore to keep their discord to a minimum in the future.

“As I was saying.” PB continued, “he found the blog and commenced to empty his cranial matter all over the fetid swamp that passed as civilized discourse. In reality, this utopia was filled with all the same horrors of the real world, the real world that the man had forsworn.”

“That’s too many grown up words you are barking at me.” LB was fed up. “How about something for us littles?”

B thought for awhile before he said. “All right LB, here is a poem for all the littles in the world.

“The Littles”

Born in an imperfect time
They play now
For forever.

They never get old
And never fall ill
For forever.

They live inside
Where it is safe
For forever.

Born for a reason
Reveal in glimpses
For forever.

A new life is born
I’ll love him
For forever

Therefore,
I shall not waste my days
in trying to prolong them.

Thank you for reading. Here are all the links to others participating in the prompt.

Wolfbaby

Laundress

Dr. Schwab

At Your Cervix

Kim (Emergiblog)

The Wandering Author (?)

KT-RN

Frequency of Silence (JCR)

Patient Anonymous

Pearls and Dreams (PK)

Mimi Writes (Mimi)

Potpourri Of Writing (Mary Emma)

Charlie

Ladybug

Musings of a Distractable Mind (Dr. Rob)

Bankerchic

Cathy

Taken by Brian, Great Barrington Mass.