I sit in semi-darkness, trapped in a translucent plastic container. The first few days of my youth, I was but a mere wisp of mossy fluff. Now, as age settles in I have turned dark and foreboding, spreading like a malevolent plague over the landscape of your leftover macaroni and cheese.
I’ve never been what you’d call “popular.” I’m unobtrusive in a primeval, earthy way, unlike the attention-seeking Granny Smith with her tawdry hue that screams “PICK ME! PICK ME!” Nor can I compete with the grassy herbs of summer and their fresh appeal. From my cell, I hear your exclamations over tropical lime beauties and delicate lettuce ruffles and it pains me. I know your praises will not be extended to me.
I live with the certainty of my fate – the day when my hiding place, wedged into the shadowy recesses of the refrigerator, will be discovered. A quick glimpse of your horrified grimace will be all I see before my sanctuary is sealed shut and tossed hurriedly back on the wire shelf to be forgotten and rediscovered on another day.
Rejected, once again.
An old exercise from Writeriffic: Creativity Training for Writers in which we were to write about a color, 200 words or less. It was a fun class – worth checking into if you’re interested in trying something new.
I'd love to see what suttonhoo and litwit would do with this challenge ;)