#FlashFictionFeb  Day 24 

Today’s prompt is to create a new myth.

What does a giant do in the dark all day?

And why does the dark always light his way?

You’d rather not know so the truth gets delayed.

Does he stumble around?

Bump his head?

Scrape his toes?

You’d rather not know; you make up how it goes.

Does his lair smell of cheesy rags and decay?

You’d rather not know so you hope and pray.

Is his hair made of thread?

Clothes of silk?

Skin of mold?

You’d rather not know; it’s easier to scold.

Why do the children keep coming his way?

Promised love?

Spun sugar?

Shiny things made of gold?

You’d rather not know or be so bold.

Is the giant a monster?

A legend?

A myth?

Look into the mirror and meet him forthwith.


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As a former transportation industry writer, I learned that a regular paycheck is nice, but writing about something you're no longer interested in is miserable. Apparently, I like writing more than money - so I'm back to freelancing at 52. It's not as altruistic as it sounds, I'm also cranky and difficult and refuse to fit in anymore, making steady employment pesky and potentially dangerous to my psyche.

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