Pebbles – Dead Deer

The pebbles devoured the succulents, one tasty morsel at a time

When I was a kid I used to go with my family to north Wales. The beautiful clean fresh air I remember now, the skies, big and blue. We would pass through Snowdonia you see, and head to the magical, mystical island of Ynys Môn. A gently undulating place, the mountains visible in the distance, but too far to block the sun. Here were some of the finest sands in the whole of the United Kingdom. Wide, yellow and not too soft, not too hard. Perfect for beach cricket. The smells and sounds are with me now, and thrill me as my absurd diseased head cannot remember where I was this morning, yet can sense the excitement of progressing along that long long drive to my grandmother’s wonderful, idyllic farmhouse, stopping every so often to argue over who would open each next gate.

Of course we would head to the seaside town, home of my aunt. My wonderful aunt. She would take us to our favourite shop and buy me those amazing and absurd sweets. Every single one a different shape and size. Every one exactly like a pebble. They were almost as hard as a pebble too, and I’d spend hours sucking the succulent pebbles. I often wondered if I had in fact collected a real one. I don’t think I did.

And here I sit, broken and crushed, empty and destroyed, wallowing in a far distant but deeply happy time. Oh to be there now.

Today I wrote from 22:18 to 22:28. I was prompted by an idea  here. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here

Jan 17th – Fate took a turn for the worse at a fork in the road

January 17th – Fate took a turn for the worse at a fork in the road

14.30-14.40

A plague, they called it.

Cutlery and utensils started

appearing everywhere, overnight,

or in the spaces between

looking and not.

 

Tea spoons turned up

in aquariums, ladles in the

underwear departments of

major department stores,

cupped in bras.

 

Knives were found:

steak and butter versions

between the pages of

romantic novels

in libraries and bookshops,

 

a warning to the reader?

Bus drivers were frustrated

by fish slices on their mirrors

and sugar tongs in their

ticket machines,

 

making it harder to do

their jobs, which were hard

enough, without the addition

of unnecessary silverware.

Enough was enough.

 

But the worst, by far,

were the forks. Forks, of all

shapes, and sizes, and designs

littered the roads: you couldn’t

drive for the forks.

 

A fork in every road, on

every road, prongs threatening

tyres, gleaming in the rain.

If this was fate, was destiny,

to be cursed with cutlery

 

then the forks were the worst.

it’s bad enough waking up

with a whisk under your pillow:

worse to be undone

by a fork in the road.

 

Inspired by a prompt from here

The pebbles devoured the succulents, one tasty morsel at a time.

No one knew where they came from, they just appeared. They looked and felt like regular pebbles. All different colours, shapes and sizes, but all with the rounded edges and irregular shapes that pebbles have. No one even seemed to notice them arriving, presumably because of the remoteness of their initial appearance. For, you see, they simply appeared in deserts, windswept deserts, with scattered cacti here and there, and along mountain ranges where the hardiest of plants grew. Some even washed up on the shore, picked up by giggling children and thrown back in the sea, just like regular pebbles. These, however, were not regular pebbles. In fact, these were not pebbles at all.

By the time anybody realised, it was too late. The great pebble invasion had begun.

It started in Mexico, the first cactus to be devoured was a classic western cactus with the appearance of a drunk person waving and saying “Yoo Hoo!” The innocuous looking pebble, nestled in the sand at the base of the green spiky plant, just ate it, very quickly, with razor sharp teeth in powerful jaws.

Then, halfway up a particularly pretty hillside in the Dolomites it happened again. This time a grey pebble with white spots chopped down on a clump of sempervivums and sedums.

And it happened again, and again, and again. The world over, anywhere and everywhere that these hardiest of plants grew. The pebbles devoured the succulents, one tasty morsel at a time. And when the succulents where gone, they ate everything else, all the plants, exotic and common, sweet perfumed and smelly, they did not appear in the least bit fussy, across all the continents, throughout all the seas.

Everything that lived and grew was chomped and chewed and swallowed.

Except for sprouts, for some reason, they left all the sprouts.

Prompted by this page