For almost a week in April or perhaps May – I had long lost track of the months by then – we ran out of food. The snow had melted but the cruel earth still refused to yield and no animals struggled in our traps.
I dreamed of Ute’s apple strudel as plump as a breast under a peasant’s blouse, and when I woke the phantom scent of cinnamon and pastry continued to tease me.
A mile from the cabin, we found a bed of heather which an insect had colonised, laying its grubs in gobs of spittle. My father and I ate them all.
*
This is a 100-word piece of flash fiction based on the picture above. It’s actually a summer re-run…our group mistress, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is on holiday, and so has suggested that all us Friday Fictioners can also have a week’s holiday and dig out our story from August 2012.
This scene, changed and expanded, actually made it into my novel. I love the idea that all these flash fiction pieces, mine and other people’s might have a life beyond our weekly writings.
To read more of what has been written in response to this picture click here. Or to join in and write your own, visit Rochelle’s website, here.
Interesting take. It serves as food when you require it most…
Thanks Anita. I would have to be very very hungry.
That middle paragraph is a riot of sensations, aromas, visuals… And then it turns nasty. Nicely done.
Thanks Sandra. The sweet and then the savoury…
Claire
I guess if you’re hungry you eat anything!
If you’re very very hungry.
When people are pushed by poverty there are no limits to what they might eat..
Yep, if there really isn’t anything else.
I have no way of knowing what I’d eat if I was that desperate. I can only say that I think I’d have to be VERY desperate! A good tale as always, Claire … and I think I’ll rest awhile with your middle paragraph. 😉
Yes, perhaps we can pretend it ends there, and not read on…
Claire
We could share recipes as I too had a similar ‘gastronomic’ theme. Loved how your 100-word piece of flash fiction made it to your book.
I think the best recipe would be to shut your eyes and swallow whole without chewing.
Claire
I agree with the others. The dream scene is a delightful “rest” in the middle of turmoil.
Ah, always best to lull readers into a false sense of security.
Claire, I love your second paragraph (and the story, even though it goes south after that!) As Bill says, “Hunger is the best sauce”, but I’d have to be very hungry, which they evidently were.
janet
I can see that no one will ever mistake me for a peasant. 🙂
janet
Thanks Janet.Hunger is the best sauce is a great phrase.
Claire
i guess when you’re starving, anything goes.
Claire, I also guess that when you’re starving, you’ll eat anything that won’t make you sick. People in the Far East eat insects. It’s all in what you’re used to. Well written as always. 🙂 —Susan
I often think prawns look like giant insects and I don’t have any problem with eating those. Just the way we’re brought up I suppose.
Dear Claire,
They say that hunger is the best sauce. Well done. I don’t remember this one so I’m pleased you re-posted. And in writing nothing’s ever wasted, is it?
Back from the farm. It was a great respite.
shalom,
Rochelle
I hope you had a lovely time. No, you’re right – nothing is ever wasted, even the things that you think are rubbish can sometimes be reworked and polished.
I listened to your story on the radio yesterday and was gripped by it. I am really looking forward to the book coming out.
Oh, thank you Hilary. That’s so nice to hear. I’m going to write a post about it shortly – so feel free to ignore it, since you’ve already listened.
Claire
Surprising what and how we see. Sometimes it is sugar plums, pies and gooey mess! I like your take.
Lily
Smells, even imaginary smells can do that to us. Perhaps she shut her eyes and thought of apple strudel!
Oh, how splendidly gruesome – and wonderfully written 🙂 As strange as it may be, that got me looking forward to your novel… I think I might be weird.
Thanks Heath, I’m really glad you enjoyed it. And hopefully you’ll like the novel too.
Claire
The feeling of need and desperation is strong in this. I particularly liked the comparison of the strudel with a plump breast, and then the phantom smell of cinnamon – I could almost hear the stomach’s responding growl.
Great interpretation. Will have to check out your novel when it’s published.
Lovely descriptive writing. And great survival instincts – straight to the protein.