Before when I used to wonder nervously and brood about my pale skin, feeling inadequate as everyone eyed the warm honey colored bodies on the beach, little did I know at the time, the beginning days of summer they were mostly spray tanned from a far away secreted salon. My goodness, I thought, being happy in the sun could be helped and enjoyed with a little can of paint!
Well my family thinks I will live forever, what a horrible thought – a raisined old woman lying around in a corner, occasionally dusted off, requiring no sustenance. Their determination is a result of my dying twice in hospitals. Now I just consulted a surgeon to repair an operation I had in 2015. Apparently he fitted the “ surgeon personality” well because he was a hurried advice giver, basically refusing to do a new op on me. He barely listened and interrupted my answers, deciding I am too fragile ( just because I am wheelchair bound!🙄😳) to withstand the op. My guess he doesn’t want to be blamed if I fail. I thought he was just being informative, but my family said he was an ass——! After getting upset on the drive home, I realized they were right. But, hey, I’m immortal, so will consult a different doc.
Your haibun does not have to resemble this one, but for this prompt, I’m asking you to do some time traveling of your own. You may write about your own past, imagine your own future, invent an entirely fictional time-travel tale, or do something in-between.***
Time travel is an interesting concept, whether to travel to the past or try to embrace the future. I think my preference would be to spend a first few days after I married, enjoying my husband.
“Hey, Pickle, are you sure you want to land on that planet? I’ve heard strange things are happening there. I think you know of course, we will be caught and put on a plane to Venezuela. I don’t like the idea of being imprisoned there. Pickle, are you listening to me? Peapod, grab his shute, we need to head to Mars instead! Pickle!”
Discarded cups tell the tale. Two people seen at a busy cafe, place their order, tagged number 19. They sit and the meet begins. First smiles, then touching hands, then a shoe meets another’s ankle. The nuance familiar, only the beginning, then chemistry rules. Two wanting lovers leave the cafe.
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