Ha! “I wasn’t dead. Just hibernating.” I love the juxtaposition of spring and “The Bear,” being out for good behavior that quickly turned bad. Great story!
Fabulous prompt … meeting my daily challenge for a month of 100-worders with this little tale of hibernation:
He’d filled the workshop because she never went there. He hid there but he’d still heard her scoffing at his ‘acorn sculptures’. But it gave him time to himself in the winter months and space to call his in the network of spaces they called home. There was a plenty of nighttime noise but he didn’t really give a hoot. Once the workshop was filled to overflowing, he designated the spare bedroom as a storeroom. But he was piling up trouble. As the secret cupboard burst open she screamed, “Are you nuts? How long will you be hibernating, Mr Squirrel?”
It was a sleeping giant. An inert monument to a civilization. This once sprawling metropolis now sat inert, thick walls bulwarks against the cold. But it would rise again! A million obsessed entities were ready to assume their assignments and engage. For what was it waiting? For what reason would it re-engage with the world? An invasion? A breach of its walls? It was a time bomb waiting for the right climate to burst forth in its destiny. And woe to the one who blundered into such machinations. Woe to my foot firmly planted in the ant pile.
Good one, Gerard! What a vivid picture you painted of a dormant giant city. The description of "thick walls" as "bulwarks against the cold" evokes a strong sense of endurance and isolation, as if the city itself is holding its breath for the moment to awaken. I didn't get it until “my foot firmly planted in the ant pile.” Brilliantly done!
Gorgeous
From your sublime to the ridiculous. Here’s mine.
Wakey Wakey
Sid Barebaum was out early for good behavior from a one-year hitch. “The Bear” had been away since fall.
As flowers bloomed, nephew Aldo picked him up at the gate.
“Home to the fam?”
“Visitors I had. I want to get right back to business.”
“This is awkward, Lenny has kind of taken charge. He said take your time coming back.”
Bear grabbed the pistol he knew would be in the glove box and jammed it into Aldo’s temple.
“Drive me to that rat bastard right now. I wasn’t dead. Just hibernating. But it’s springtime. And I’m hungry. Frickin’ starving.”
Ha! “I wasn’t dead. Just hibernating.” I love the juxtaposition of spring and “The Bear,” being out for good behavior that quickly turned bad. Great story!
Thx and thx for great wintertime topic and beautiful contribution.
Nice use of the prompt, Scott. Excellent malevolence simmering under the surface.
Thx, couldn’t snooze through a great prompt like this
Me neither!
Fabulous prompt … meeting my daily challenge for a month of 100-worders with this little tale of hibernation:
He’d filled the workshop because she never went there. He hid there but he’d still heard her scoffing at his ‘acorn sculptures’. But it gave him time to himself in the winter months and space to call his in the network of spaces they called home. There was a plenty of nighttime noise but he didn’t really give a hoot. Once the workshop was filled to overflowing, he designated the spare bedroom as a storeroom. But he was piling up trouble. As the secret cupboard burst open she screamed, “Are you nuts? How long will you be hibernating, Mr Squirrel?”
Oh my! You never know. If they survive the apocalypse, at least they'll be well-stocked.
Squirrel Survivalists. Definitely a thing!
Love it. “Someday these nuts will be worth a fortune and you’ll thank me “
For some reason, I thought the prompt was "Out from the Shadows." Am I wrong? Anyway, here it is:
100-word CHALLENGE prompt: Caro’s Writing Perspective
TITLE: Out From the Shadows—Pushing Through Illness to the Light
Your once bejeweled insistence on the bright
Burned red with passion's might of lovers' light
'Til orange, fading in, suppressed the hue
With yellow's caution light, despite the view
Of green--signaling me to grace your ways
Blue is what I see of you these days
To darken Sol's expression violet
Till indigo is bare, inchoate
Your violet is violently blamed
'Til all your colors coalesce in shame
And self-esteem recedes as viewed in jade
You're not yourself—so look! beyond the shade
Emerge from death's cocoon to face new dawn
And shine anew as how you're truly borne
100-word challenge: Hibernate
It was a sleeping giant. An inert monument to a civilization. This once sprawling metropolis now sat inert, thick walls bulwarks against the cold. But it would rise again! A million obsessed entities were ready to assume their assignments and engage. For what was it waiting? For what reason would it re-engage with the world? An invasion? A breach of its walls? It was a time bomb waiting for the right climate to burst forth in its destiny. And woe to the one who blundered into such machinations. Woe to my foot firmly planted in the ant pile.
Good one, Gerard! What a vivid picture you painted of a dormant giant city. The description of "thick walls" as "bulwarks against the cold" evokes a strong sense of endurance and isolation, as if the city itself is holding its breath for the moment to awaken. I didn't get it until “my foot firmly planted in the ant pile.” Brilliantly done!