Welcome to The Spot Writers. This week’s prompt is to find a
new article, and choose five words from the article, using them in a story or a
poem. This week’s story is from Val Muller, author of the Corgi Capers kidlit
mystery series.
She chose an article about monkeys attacking humans to steal
blood samples from COVID-19 patients, which seemed more to her like the
beginning of a Planet of the Apes movie than anything.
Afternoon
Anthropologist
by Val Muller
Midnight Raven mounted the bench, hands on hips, cape
blowing in the wind.
So stereotypical.
Her nemesis, Muddy Shark, crouched menacingly in the water
below. He roared up at her, reaching for what she clutched so dearly in her
hand.
“Mine!” he roared.
“No, not yours.” She held it high in the sky, like a wand.
From the safety of the picnic table, the onlooker watched, half expecting her
to summon a bolt of lightning with the passion that glowed in her eyes.
“Mine!” the Shark demanded again. He rose from the water,
dripping, bright red beads dribbling down his chin. Red as blood.
Anger was rampant in the hot summer sun, and her scowl
matched his.
“You’ll never have this!” She stretched her arm impossibly
higher. The object she clutched glistened in the sun, shedding bright purple
drops that speckled her arm.
A few drops landed on the Shark. Puzzled, his face softened.
Tension decreased for an instant, but then he understood, and his eyes
narrowed, further enraged.
The battle was impossible. Clearly, the Raven would end it
all to deprive her nemesis of a single iota of pleasure. She would end them
both.
The onlooked pocketed his phone and put down his lemonade,
preparing to rise, preparing for the inevitable.
This would not end well.
The Shark fell back into the water, thrashing before making
a final strike. He was airborne, his wet outfit glistening in the blazing sun.
His enraged, chubby fists clenched, his guttural scream a nonverbal invective.
“If you’re too stupid to hold onto your own ice pop, there’s
no way you’re getting mine!”
And then it happened. The Raven’s purple pop had been
exposed to the summer heat for too long. It lost all structural integrity, like
the onlooker’s last shred of sanity evaporating. Then it landed—splat—on the
patio.
Enraged, the Shark plopped down into the kiddie pool, its
water still red from his dropped pop. The Raven, defeated, chucked her impotent
ice pop stick at her brother before joining him in the cool relief of the pool,
their tears mixing with the sticky-sweet of melted pops and hose water.
The onlooked sat again, relaxing, reopening the book he had
been reading on his phone. Disaster was averted for now, and he waited for his
pulse to slow again. It wasn’t much as far as superhero plots were concerned,
but for a COVID summer day, it was typical. And around these parts, it was
about as exciting as things got.
***
The Spot Writers—Our Members:
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie:
https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/
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