Lovely to have so much tasty food!
Everything’s already prepared – it’s easy.
Food shouldn’t be wasted.
There must be something I can make out of this.
Obviously, I need to add fresh veggies – for nutrition.
Value the leftovers. Save money.
Ew. No. This can’t be good anymore, right?
Rubbish bin – no, I can’t waste food…but there’s
Still so much left!
Monthly Archives: February 2016
Too Many Leftovers
Deathwalker 6.2
Huffing an annoyed breath, I eyed the generic gray door. What would they keep there that felt like the dead? There was no way they’d transport a corpse in the passenger quarters. They’re not cold enough, for one, and I’d hate to think how hard it would be to get rid of the resulting smell. Inching another step forward, I searched my brain for possible explanations. The obvious ones were dismissed – serial killers on space ships were fine for vid serials, but, honestly, trying to hide on a ship this small simply wasn’t feasible anymore. The cost of the sensor blockers alone made it ridiculous to try. And the whole crew would have to be in on a plot to kill passengers (not the most reassuring thought).
As I moved gradually closer, I listed and dismissed possibility after possibility. It definitely helped distract me from wanting to rush ahead, but I didn’t feel any closer to having answers. What I had was plenty of questions.
Could it be a passenger from a culture where they keep parts of the dead? I vaguely remembered an ancient tradition where they turned the deceased’s ashes into jewelry. Was that still done? Could that possibly cause such a strong sensation? I wasn’t sure that it could. Unless the jewelry was really large. Or didn’t people use to stuff their dead pets with sand? What was that called?
A Poem Appeared
A poem appeared in my head last night
As I laid on my pillow to sleep
The words flowed like rapids,
Like a bubbling brook,
And the meaning was so rich and deep.
In the gray light of dawn
The words faded away
Like a spirit too shy to be seen
And even the meaning,
So strong in the night,
Became hidden, lost,
Like a dream.
Aim
If you have the strength to distort the parabola,
Aim straight for the target ahead.
If you do not, you must use the parabola,
And aim high above instead.
Wind Town 4.5
“But-”
“Since you couldn’t do that, go get the twine and the old scissors.” She cut off Sarah’s next protest with a raised finger. “Now.” Sarah drooped but dashed out the door. “And don’t run back!”
Matt rolled his eyes and headed out behind her.
“Matt, don’t forget the door,” his dad called out.
Matt made a face at the open door and kept walking.
“Matt, your dad asked you to help with the door.”
“He already opened one. He doesn’t need help.”
“Help him anyway.” Her voice held a warning note.
So they wouldn’t tell him anything, but they’d boss him around and make him do pointless stuff? Seething inside, Matt stomped over to the door and shoved it so hard that it slammed into the stop and bounced back a couple inches, rocking on its track.
“Matthew!”
“What?” he snapped. “I did it.”
With that, he stalked out to the field. It’s not like they needed him for anything. They had magic. They could do whatever they wanted and not even tell him about it. But he wasn’t allowed to do magic. He couldn’t even talk to the wind. What a jip!
He kept walking even when he heard the sound of the cart behind him. A small voice in his head warned him that he was being a jerk. That only made him madder. Mom and Dad would be sure to point it out, and everything would get blamed on him even though it was their fault.
