What the Martian Gave Me: 75 Word Prompt
Write a story, poem, or fragment about an unlikely childhood transaction. An exchange of some kind should be taking place. See if you can keep this piece to under 75 words. As always, the quirkier and more unlikely the better. Prompt words: pinkish, "howdy", door, stomach, warm-hearted, mad, vein, stem, fruit, mirror, raincloud, mirror. Paid subscribers, please feel free to post your stories below.
Axis
In my bedroom mirror, a pinkish raincloud opens its door to a warm-hearted stomach, mad with veins. "Howdy" it says. I twist my favorite fruit off the stem and offer it to the navel in the middle. That's what nourishes the brain in the gut now emerging in a see-through skull… now trying to hug me with its antennae. “Howdy” it says again. It means to say “Thanks,” but it only knows the one word.
The Boy You Call Stem
He’s here. Your mom has noticed the missing fruit, and the veins of dried pinkish meat, more than the days of the missing you. Snatch her mirror. Stem wants to know what everyone else sees. You’ve wondered what his mother thinks, if she exists. He springs from the woods with flowers in his hair, just for you. You both continue to grow like vines on the same neglected wall. Sometimes you could pass for siblings.