seeds of truth: my growth fiction contest entry

For those of you who didn't catch it in yesterday's post and/or to save you a click, I'm posting my entry to The Moon Topples Growth Fiction Contest, you know the one that captured 4th place among the Author Awards?

The theme of the contest was growth, and the entry had to be less than 500 words. It was wonderful and inspiring to see the submissions go in so many different, innovative directions, so do check them out.

I particularly enjoyed:

Brilliantdonkey's entry #25: White Lies

Goodthomas's entry #19: Thinking of Others

Heartinsanfrancisco's entry #22: The Scar

Reading the Signs' entry #9: Forget-Me-Not

Seamus Kearney's entry #4: Paolo and the Snakes

Sounds cheeseball, I know, but it really was just a privilege being part of a great collection of writing--the fact that my peers selected my piece among their favorites is quite humbling. I'm just getting my feet wet in the realm of fiction, so I'd appreciate any and all feedback.

And thanks again to Maht at The Moon Topples for organizing the contest!

Seeds of Truth

Anna cupped her growing belly as she leaned over the sink and stuck two fingers into the soil of the basil plant on the windowsill.

Still not time to water.

How many basil plants had she killed in her overanxious desire to see them big, leafy, and oh so healthy?

Not this time, she swore.

So instead of filling up the watering can, she peered out the open window past the basil and saw a bumblebee buzzing around her orchids. She used to be afraid of anything with stingers, but after much trial and error, she learned that if she let bumblebees do their thing, they wouldn't even notice her. Her only job was to cultivate the orchid seeds and keep them alive for when a bumblebee's turn would finally arrive.

"Unbelievable! Another car bomb," yelled her husband from the next room.

She heard the unmistakable pop of the recliner being unreclined, but her eyes remained fixed on the furry black and yellow visitor.

Although she considered digging out her camera to capture the moment, she didn't want to lose a single second of the golden sunlight catching the white of her orchids, which made her squint, and, accordingly, smile. And besides, just because she had accepted coexistence with Bernie, as she called the bumbler, it didn't mean she trusted him.

So she shifted her weight onto her right foot, crossed her arms, and titled her head for a better angle.

"How can we continue to stay there when it's obvious that they're going to have to build their own country with their own rules?" asked her husband, tapping the remote control on his leg in time with Bernie's fluttering wings. "Honey, come here and see this," he said.

"Why don't you come here and watch this instead?" she said without turning towards him.

After one last look at debris, he turned off the television, threw the remote on the couch, and joined his wife at the window, standing just behind her.

Over her shoulder, he watched the bumblebee kissing the orchid's waiting, yellow lips.

"You know that the laws of aerodynamics say that a bumblebee can't fly?" he whispered into his wife's ear, careful not to disturb the romantic moment before him.

"Obviously no one told the bumblebee," she whispered back, and they laughed.

As the bumblebee moved on, she noticed some weeds had shot up in the cement cracks of the walkway. She didn't remember seeing even a hint of them yesterday.

"I'll get those tomorrow," her husband said, following her gaze. And then the tiny sprouts of basil on the windowsill caught his eye.

Perfect, he thought, envisioning a rich pesto in their future, and hugged his wife, wrapping his arms around his world.