Day 42 Mulling Over Life And Writing

Day 42 of the daily prompts:

Fruit

She peeled the orange as she watched the sun setting behind the mountain. She had been hiking all day to this view. Here, there was an endless line of people with their cameras and phones snapping pictures at the peak; she couldn’t see past them. She wanted to throw the orange at them and roar them to go away. This had been her sanctuary for decades, and social media has ruined it for her and others. People were agitated, annoyed, and hostile at each other. Every one of them wanted to take THE magical photo at the peak when the golden hour hit the scenery around it.

She sighed. It wouldn’t do anything good if she rushed at them and watched them fall to their deaths. There would be another line on another day. The world had changed, and she had to deal with it. It was just that it was not her world anymore, yet she could escape. Oh, how she longed that she could slip between dimensions into another timeline where there was no social media.

Skunks

He was on his porch, watching two skunks stroll down the neighborhood. They had no hurry in the world. He frowned. Skunks are solitary creatures, and now the two males seem to act in unison as if they had formed a bond together.

He couldn’t get up. All he could do was sit and observe silently the odd behavior. The skunks were checking out every post, every walkway, as if they couldn’t decide what their home was. He wanted to invite them in and see where the odd behavior stemmed from. He had worked with skunks before.

Talking Dog

She listened to the murmurs coming from the corner where the dog was. It had been yapping all day, complaining about the temperature, the rain, the food it had gotten, her smell, the noise she was making. Nothing was too good for the dog. She should have never tampered with the dog’s brain. She should have never let it speak the human tongue. Now, she faced an ethical problem: if she, as a scientist, could alter the dog’s neurological pattern so it could never speak again. There was no doubt that it was conscious, even how annoying it was. It reminded a lot of her grandpa, who had nothing good to say about the world.

She sighed and kept writing a detailed account of how she had made the dog able to speak.

The Prompts are from the book: A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

I wonder if it shows that I found all the prompts difficult today. None of them exited me. I feel bad about that, as this is day 42, a magical day that holds all the meaning of existence. It doesn’t, but I love The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, and the number 42 will always have meaning for me.

I have a firm plan to write my book after the prompts. I haven’t managed to pull that off for a couple of days. I give myself an excuse that it’s okay. I wrote the prompts, so I wrote today, and I don’t need to write my book. It doesn’t work that way. I still feel lousy for not writing my book. Being human feels like a cruel cosmic joke. Nothing makes sense, and all we can do is try our best, yet we make a mess of even trying our best. And I don’t think it is just me. I’m not that special that the cosmos has something against me personally.

Anyway, I am avoiding writing by jabbering here.