Tag: Henry David Thoreau

Random words were generated by creativitygames.net.

Let’s try 7 words this time.

novel…cartridge…fur…printer…frog…opera…spike

Here’s my story:

The rented cabin stood beside an old mill-pond. As ramshackle as it was, the place seemed to open welcoming arms as I stepped inside. My novel would have no choice but to write itself here. The musty smell was not unpleasant…it reeked of peacefulness and solitude. Could it be that this was the odor of  introspect?

“Ah Thoreau, your secret’s safe with me, my friend.”

My own voice sounded unfamiliar. I realized that I could talk to myself, out loud, all that I desired here. No raised eyebrows could ground me now.

After my nose grew accustom to the new surroundings, my ears tuned in to the chorus of frogs outside my door. An opera that no single frog could create.

” One for all and all for one, huh guys? Hope you sing all night. I’d enjoy that serenade at bedtime.”

My novel had been on hold for, well, all of my adult life. It had poked me in the ribs, every so often in the middle of my personal “rat race” ,  finally becoming too annoying to ignore any longer. Gosh, suddenly the realization that I’d be writing it by hand, struck me like a hammer.

“Henry, what might you have accomplished with a computer and printer?”

Yes, I liked the spirit of my favorite author beside me. Talking to him would clear those cob webs for sure.

I straighten up the place and made it my own. Then sat beside the pond in the springtime sun. Something magical in the sunshine in Spring. It is welcomed and comforting. The summer sun was overbearing and cruel in comparison.

A rustling in the brush brought me back from my poetic musings. Whatever it was, it was coming closer. I studied the wooded bank and saw brown fur headed toward the water’s edge.

As I was cleaning the cabin, I had found an old rifle with one unspent cartridge still in the chamber. For a moment, I debated whether I just might need it after all. My “peaceful harmony” mood had dismissed its value, originally, but my survival instinct made me make a mental note of where I’d put it. I now figured, it would take 10 seconds to lay my hands on it.

“Henry, were YOU ever afraid?”

My utterance made the beast pause.

“Fight or flight.Yup, what’s it gonna be fella?”

As my heart rhythm made a dramatic spike, two beady black eyes glistened followed by a splash and a slap on the water. A head surfaced just before it ducked into a pile of sticks and brush at the pond’s entrance.

I laughed at the terror I’d experienced for naught.

“Henry? Meet Beaver Cleaver…I think we’ll be spending lots of time together.”