This was a little something I’ve had circling around my brain for a while now and the WitFit prompt of “Roots” gave me the opportunity to give it life. The whole point of these daily prompts is to write in an almost stream-of-consciousness manner with little-to-no editing. Basically, WitFit provides writers with the encouragement, the opportunity and the prompts we sometimes need in order to write something every day.
I used this exercise to experiment in writing in the present-tense for the very first time ever. I’d love to know what you think.
For more information about the Fictionista Workshop and WitFit, please clink the links provided.
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January 2, 2010
Prompt: Roots
Derivative Fiction (Twilight – Jasper, Alice. All Human, Alternate Universe)
Rating: MA/NC17 (graphic sexual activity, adult themes and language)
Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.
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Roots
Roots. I have to pull fucking roots today.
Generally speaking, my job is perfect for me. It’s hard physical work, which I enjoy; it keeps me outdoors, which I love; and for the most part I’m assigned tasks which leave me alone. Which is essential.
It’s not that I don’t like the guys I work with. I don’t know any of them enough to dislike them, truth be told. I’ve just always preferred my own company to that of others. My entire life I’ve been what you’d call a loner. I guess I prefer observing people to actually interacting with them. They interest me - fascinate me, really; but up close they inevitably make me uncomfortable and I rarely know what to say to any of them. The older I get, the less I find myself making the effort.
Thankfully, my boss – Edward - had figured that out pretty quickly. When I started this job a little over a year ago, I just kept volunteering for the hardest work or the tasks which kept me farthest away from the others. I would work the edges of properties while others were weeding, all clumped together and gossiping like teenaged girls. I would man the leaf blower – a job detested by most sane people - because it meant that I could wear headphones and not be expected to utter a single word. Once Edward figured out my personality type, as well as the fact that I truly enjoyed hard, physical labor, he just naturally started assigning those types of tasks to me.
We have a regular client base set up and so we work the same places week after week. Tuesdays are perhaps my favorite day of the week because we work all day at The Woods – a large apartment complex in Laguna Canyon which backs up to a steep hill, covered in foliage and elm trees. Not only is it beautiful, but I can work extremely hard all day and not even see any of my co-workers. While they putter around in the flower beds and trim the trees along the driveways, I tend to the large, steep hill behind the complex. I usually clear brush and mow the steep hill, occasionally trimming the trees. It’s never easy and I’m always filthy when I get home and completely exhausted. I would have it no other way.
I envy the people who live on the back side of the building. Their balconies and decks look out on lush greenery and trees which actually change color with the seasons (something rare to find in Southern California). It’s quiet back here, and secluded. I can see myself sitting out on one of those balconies for hours, just drinking coffee and reading, taking in the fresh air and listening to the birds in the trees. If I could afford to live there, that is.
I might like my job, but the pay is for shit.
Of course, there is another reason I like to work back here, alone. I won’t admit it if you ask me directly, but that reason does exist.
She doesn’t know me, of course. It’s not like I ever say anything to her or to any of the tenants, for that matter. Our job is to come in and do our work while most of them are at their own places of business. The only one of us who ever actually speaks to anybody is Edward, because it’s his company. But I know her face. I know her hair. I even know her body. And in a strange way, I feel that I know her.
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