Pancakes: Exercise

The inside of an egg, snot on my daughter’s fingers as we measure out flour and milk. She will be eight soon. We pick out the bits of broken shell. She rests her finger on the measuring jug, watching it fill until the level reaches the tip of her nail. Stop. While the mixture rests we go to the park to play on the swings. We watch grannies lighting their farts on the seat by the slide and swordfight with sticks. Rain stalks us from above the bowls pavilion. When we get hungry we walk back. Beside the river the beach leaves are the colour of rust.

Back home I toss pancakes, trying not to burn them as I eat. She sprinkles sugar and lemon, spreading it around with a spoon to create art. Rolling them tighter than a cigar she folds them in half so the juice can’t leak.

Afterwards we read a story about a scorpion but I don’t understand many of the words. We sit with our backs to the kitchen radiator. Our feet are tucked up so we don’t have to touch the floor. Outside the rain comes straight down. It is blue like the inside of a shellfish, painting the windowsills and trying to creep inside.

–Benjamin F Jones 
This was written in response to Deep Cove Writing Group’s free-writing prompt ‘The inside of an egg’.
Advertisements

About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
This entry was posted in Exercises, Prose Poetry, Scraplets, Snapshots and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Pancakes: Exercise

  1. I am so pleased with this piece of writing that I pressed the like button. I got an email from WordPress telling me I was vain!

    • I google plussed myself by mistake, and felt very embarrassed and foolish afterwards.

      Re-reading you post, reminds me of something my husband told me about his Auntie Effie, who used to fart so much in a particular chair, in the end she made a hole in the cushion.

  2. One day children grow out of snot and the home becomes notably less sticky.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s