Randomly, I’m a gardener.
Not so randomly, I looked at this blog, had the horrible realization that I didn’t have anything posted for this month nor any ideas of what to write, and am avoiding talking about it. ~I’ll get there, probably.
In the meantime,
There’s this… thing in my garden. Things. Okay, actually tomatoes, various weeds, and volunteer squash-family vines that quite remarkably resemble a jungle. In case you wondered, I’m quite convinced that they are called ‘squash’ because that’s what they do to anything that has the misfortune to get in the way of their long, vigorous and rowdy vines.
I mean tomatoes, tomatoes are basically weeds if given half a chance, and mine are certainly happy this year…but there has been a constant requirement of whacking back the squash just to find the poor things. I still need to plant about half my tomatoes, and yet, I had to move fifteen foot vines out of the way just to find the planting area.
No, no, trust me. The squash aren’t at their full length, they’re just revving up with dreams of taking over the world, five feet of garden at a time, followed by jumping four foot walls and slithering out between the slats of six foot fences. I’m certain they’d climb the fence and huddle over it as well, just so it wouldn’t feel left out of their push for world domination.
Houses are a bit boring, so they’d just slide right on around them, and well, trees are a bit high, so they’d more or less leave them be, other than hugging their bases. But cars, cars would be fair game with all those interesting spaces to twist through and tires left hopelessly ensnared. And roads, oh man, all that space just begging to be filled to the brim with waves of green, leaves larger than my 17″ monitor, and random deposits of weird colored pumpkins or odd looking zucchini, huddling down, waiting to trip the unwary foot and leave humans sprawled hilariously in a tangle of vines, that…
Oh, wait. Writing. I was supposed to be talking about that, hm?
This snippet is from a story that is an experiment for me. The story concept consists of excessive craziness melded into apparent normality, so the main character can bemoan how much like a soap opera her life is.
Alpana, the main character is a female werewolf alpha, although this is a different world, so ‘werwoolf’ and ‘Alp’ are the proper terms. There are two secondary characters named ‘Adaim’. The one called ‘Adaim’ has been with the pack for several years, and is a very reliable man. The one called ‘Ada’ is the new guy, and a bit obnoxious. Hestia is…well, a dragon-shifter or ‘dracwer’.
“Oh, ‘Pana. Done already? Did the girl not pass or is she hiding around here somewhere?” Adaim asked.
“Hestia took her to retrieve her stuff.” I said around a mouthful of cookie.
“Hestia?” he asked incredulously, and I nodded absently, waving a cookie at him.
There was a soft sound of a cookie hitting the floor, and I looked around to see Louv staring at Ada open mouthed, his half eaten cookie on the floor at his feet. “Ada? Ada, you’re the new Bet?” Louv asked. He sounded on the verge of tears, and that riled up every protective instinct I had instantly. I knew Adaim would be seconds from ripping off Ada’s head if Louv actually cried. Or trying, at least. Shit! I snapped my head around to stop Adaim, and paused.
Ada looked like someone had bitch slapped him. It was a lovely expression on his arrogant face. “Lou-” He cleared his throat and began again. “Louv? You’re alive? Last I heard, you’d gotten hooked on Geth while I was away, and then you disappeared and no one saw you again. I thought-” He swallowed hard, and blinked back tears that filled his eyes. “I thought you were dead, Louv.”
And he had every right to think that. Getting hooked on Geth was basically a death sentence over time unless someone put in the effort to rescue you and kept putting in that effort. Shantilly and I had only managed because there were two of us and we’d had the pack to back us up. It wasn’t an easy thing. A Geth addict just disappearing wasn’t unexpected, and usually meant that they’d managed to die anonymously.
“Well, what did you expect? You went away, you stupid bastard! And you didn’t come back!”
I groaned and buried my face in my hands, and nibbled on another cookie as their reunion was shouted over my head. My life is a soap opera, I swear.