Good afternoon creatures of the Art Box!
So, there is this site that I go to every once in a while that has a random word generator. You can Google Random Word Generator and it should be the first one that comes up. Anyway, I bookmarked this site on my phone and every once in a while, I go there and have it throw some words at me, in hopes that I will sit down and write something, or maybe draw something, photograph something, whatever… that reflects the words that the generator gives me. You can tell it to give you any amount of words from 3-10 (I believe that’s what it offers) and you hit “generate” and there you go. I had all the good intentions to use this site as a means to boost my brainstorming and free writing exercises to get this wrinkly ol’ brain working and perhaps pump out some good writing pieces. Well, good intentions or not, I haven’t been using it.
Well, I finally did. Call it a creative whimsy, I don’t know. I asked it for 4 random words and it spit them out at me and within minutes, something that I thought was going to be difficult just came streaming out of my fingers while I pounded away at the keyboard on my lunch break.
So, keeping in mind that this piece is the first I have written in a WHILE… I am (with MUCH fear and anxiety) presenting it to you here for your perusal. The only thing I have to fear is fear itself, right? Feel free to comment or go hit me up at http://www.facebook.com/immortalreveries if you feel so inclined to comment on any of these posts.
Random Word Generator
January 22, 2016
WOLF, EXPRESSION, EVERY, CREEP
You had the expression of a wolf stalking its prey, every move, every step, every creep. There was no shame in your lies, no pause in your paws, you weren’t a man, you were a dog; a dog with a bone and a glint in your eye.
Your smile was as innocent as the wolf is cunning, your lines bled like ink, but cloaked as you were in a shroud of boyishness and good humor, the little red girl, she didn’t see through it. Every moment that passed was a moment wasted, you were the marked predator, she the unquestioning prey.
The woods and the wolf, and the little red girl, she didn’t stand a chance, not on your turf. Once the glitter and the sparkle of the woods wore off and the little red girl found herself once again, the suspicions rose like the garish green fog of your hunting ground. The hunt took longer than the blood leading. There was the little red girl, gray and drained, every move, every step, every creep, questioning.
The distance of 1,000 miles, you cannot stop her. She is renewed, no longer is she drained. The little red girl claims your woods and invokes your spirit, no longer prey, never a predator, the expression of a wolf, the heart of a fawn.
Her scars have healed, and she is at peace, but the wolf, he will always be hungry, he will never be satisfied, he will always be pained, tortured.
I ask, then, which is the victim?