Day 63 Ruminating And Writing

Owl

The hoot sounded above her head. She knelt on the ground and watched as the approaching patrol came into view. She waited for them to pass before the faint hoot echoed over her head. The moss under her feet felt soft, muffling her steps. She would only have to reach the edge of the woods, and she would be safe. None one dared to go to the stretching prairie. That was where the wildness lived. There were tales of strange people who hunted with bows and arrows, wearing skulls over their faces. That was where her salvation lay. She and the owl only had to get there.

Perfumes

She stepped into the perfume shop. She was sure it hadn’t been there the last time she was in the city. It was a cute shop with its organic wipe. She could get gifts for her sister and mother.

The smell was oddly mellow. She had expected to be attacked by the usually strong, bitter smell of perfume counters. Here, the scent reminded her of her childhood meadows. It immediately made her feel at ease.

Puppy

The dog rolled under his feet as he tried to catch it. It let out a happy yelp and tried to bite his ankles. He swirled out of its teeth way and scooped the puppy in his lap, and started petting it while avoiding its attempts to soak his face with sloppy wet tongue kisses. He let out a laugh and buried his face in the puppy’s fur.

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

I figured it out! The scene, I mean. Not the whole existence thing or how societies should be organized. I will leave that for tomorrow. However, the way I figured the scene in my book out leaves problems for later. I have to rearrange and reposition other scenes because of it, and I have to figure out how it fits into the overall narrative, but I guess that’s the fun part of writing: problem-solving. So, it makes sense to create more problems with my fix. I mean, it has to, or else I’m just messing with myself for no good reason other than to torment myself for existing at all. Maybe that’s the whole meaning of life part. Who knows?

The spider is still living in my toilet. Now, it has decided to move to my towel, and I’m not that happy about it. I love spiders, and I like to take them in my hand, but this one is as ugly as they can come and lively. I’m not so comfortable making so close contact with it despite it trying to initiate it this morning. The only solution is that we have to move. I looked up, and it’s a common house spider. They can live up to seven to eight years.

Thank you for checking in and reading my prompts today! Have a great one ❤