Stream of Consciousness Writing Attempt – Prompt – Compass (because wordpress said so).
Music of choice: A Grave Mistake: The Lore Variations by Chad Lawson
But first, I have to get Ludacris Move Bitch out of my head *set start time back 4 minutes*
Whatever happened to Mystikal? Is he still alive?
Ok, now that I got Luda out of my system *oh shit, my oven’s still on*
Ok, now back to Sir Lawson and this timed stream of consciousness writing.
I had an old compass when I was little. I think I dug it out of my great grandfather’s things after he passed. It was old and rusted, the little red dial never functioned right. Sometimes it would just spin around and around. I took it in the woods once, on a boy scout camping trip … yes I’m a girl, no I wasn’t a Boy Scout, but my cousin was and his sister was the friend I was allowed to have. They went on a camping trip and I got to go along, my one experience with tent camping. Never again.
Anyway, I took this compass out in the woods and my cousin and I decided to go walking. I had a compass so we were good, so we thought. We ended up lost by some river. It stank. God the stench was horrible, like something, or hundreds of somethings just up and died right there.
The mud, we were in Mississippi or Alabama, probably Mississippi. The mud was that red clay type of mud. The kind you read about in old literary greats. Stuff written by Harper Lee, Mark Twain, people who grew up with their feet in that mud.
It stuck to my shoes and threatened to pull them off. I was really grossed out by it, I already couldn’t shower, I didn’t want to get muddy. Then, as we’re walking along, hoping the river will lead us back to the campsite, we happen on dead fish.
Just tons of them, dead fish bodies laying in this mud. It explained the smell.
My incredibly overdramatic cousin decided to act out a movie scene where she fell to her knees and screamed. Over the dead fish.
My 7 minutes are up.
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