Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Hunched

Hood up, arms out, trouser-less and bleeding from the nose. Staring at a picture of a long ago vacation.

She whispered to him, "I love you." But he was asleep.

(Write in the new year)


He wrote about a child, someone younger than him, naked and pure, hunting in a rain forest. A pig, a gigantic boar. The words eluded him, frustration at a lack of images, "no easy research," he chided himself.

In the story, he knows, the boy, it is a boy, a ... no! That's it. Step one: it is a young girl hunting the boar --befriends an octopus.

They meet at the top of a rocky water fall: the girl saves the octopus, who was dying due to the clean water of the river, from going over the edge of the waterfall by catching it in her fishing net.

The octopus, didn't  realize the true nature of the girl, though, and stung her seven times and the girl cried hot tears into the waterfall, turning a small tributary pond to salt water, where the octopus then scuttled to recuperate.

Later, the octopus thanked the girl by finding her camp. It spelled out words in her language, because octopus are smart creatures, and because the girl's written language was pictographic, so was easy for the octopus to duplicate with its many limbs.