This week Galit asked you to conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season- whatever you like.
But don’t tell us what it is, conjure it. In 100 words.
Orange and round, ridges in almost equal spaces.
A sharp blade stabs into the top, in and out it moves, around the protruding stem.
Small fingers grasp and pull.
Reaching inside a slimy mess of seeds and stringy goop.
Busy hands digging and emptying.
Turn it around and around, finding the place to begin.
The sharp blade returns. In and out.
Pieces like a puzzle pulled out from the whole.
A face emerges. Haunting and chilling.
Later as darkness settles at the home, the face sits glowing and staring from the front porch.