I had a really neat-o idea for a short story the other day. Unfortunately I'm pretty busy for a little while here, but I hope to keep plugging away at it. But I'm excited by it. And I'll probably post it once it's finished. For now I just want to share the - for right now at least - first paragraph. I'm not going to give away the plot, but just thought I'd share a little of my more creative side - since that hasn't been appearing on this blog as much lately. Also, biology/anatomy people (coughGinacough), can you let me know if my description is anatomically correct? Thanks. Ok, here it is:
Do you ever get the feeling that you don't exist? That you're being ignored? Worse still, that you can't even be heard? That your voice box has been unplugged? That if they could send a tiny camera in through your mouth, back, past where that warm pink teardrop, that little grape - the uvula - hangs, and down, maneuvering carefully to avoid the esophagus, down, into your larynx, and finally stopping to examine those little green-grey cords in the middle of your throat, they'd find that somehow they'd come disconnected? Sliced clean, as if a mistaken gardner had quickly snipped a couple of stems to be placed in a vase, a clean 45-degree angle, to increase the stem's exposure and allow the blossom above to pull more water to its bright petals, except that by mistake it's turned your volume to mute.
Ok, nothing much. But I hope you enjoyed it.
Oh yeah, and triple points to anyone who can get this song quote without typing it into an internet search.
They say that absence makes the heart grown fungus