Here is a note I made to myself to record a writing prompt that whisped through my mind some time ago. I can almost enjoy it. The story line is typical of some fantasy that will pour through the old brain early in the A.M.
ALIEN ROOMMATE
- Raised by catfish in a creek near Ft. Eustis until he was six years old.
- Found by a foursome of Army officers playing golf on the base golf course.
- Will eat any vegetation.
- A light sleeper.
- Doesn’t mind the rain.
- Hates clothing but will wear gym shorts and flip-flops.
- Likes baseball hats.
- Won’t eat animals except for dragon flies and small birds.
And then I came upon this. I modified it to fill in some more wonderments while wondermenting about the scene and my part in it.
BLACK ONYX PAVERS
Never to be seen again.
Some time long ago, while I was driving a deep submersible along the ocean bottom in the Sea of Cortez, I came upon a stone wall. It passed down the port side, quietly, out of the dark and into the scattered luminating rays from the thallium-iodide lights. I saw the wall of pavers briefly but long enough to think, “What is a wall doing here at the bottom of the ocean?” The wall was lying against a rise of muck; maybe five or six courses high. Later, whilst reflecting on what I’d remembered, I wondered if the wall had once been a flow of lava that had cooled into broken or cracked pieces and that was what I had seen. Maybe it was not a wall at all but a rapidly cooled flow of obsidian. How many times must I return to earth before I get an opportunity to re-visit that exact place and witness the wall lying in the muck?
I’m going to be late for a meeting at the prison this morning if I don’t get moving. I need to eat and dress and leave in the next thirty-five minutes.
Ciao,
G. M. Goodwin
May 8, 2019
Playing Fair and Being Kind 