Brigit's Flame, May, week 1
Title: The Harvest
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warning: mild language
Word Count: 785
Prompt: “bag of root vegetables”
A/N: Written for week #1 of brigits_flame.
A hand hovered before reaching down to make the final selection. Yam held still and silent; its patience was rewarded as it was lifted free of its brethren and placed in the sack after a cursory examination for flaws.
“Ow!” The sack was dark, but Yam could tell by the muffled exclamation that it'd been placed upon a fellow legume's body, possibly a head. It shifted in subtle apology and felt the whole bag of what could only be more root vegetables move to accommodate its movement. Yam felt itself slide towards the bottom.
“Pardon me, but could you roll to the side? You're crushing me against Potato,” Radish said.
“Oh, of course,” Yam said. It wedged itself against Ginger root and then blushed at the unintentional intimacy.
“Where are we going?” Carrot wailed from the top of the sack.
“Duh,” Beet said. “Duh. Duh.”
“No one knows!” Onion started to cry. “We've been kidnapped!”
Radish cleared its throat. “Friends! We must find the last measure of our courage in these trying times and resolve not to panic.”
“Who died and made you King Weed of the Produce Patch?” Parsnip sneered.
Potato rocked back and forth. “Radish is right; fighting isn't the answer! We should hug it out. Anyone?”
“Right here, Idaho,” Ginger purred.
“What else would you expect from a rhizome?” Parsnip spat.
“Duh. Duhduhduh,” Beet said.
Yam looked at Beet. “Is it okay? Why does it keep saying that?”
Carrot glanced down from where it was wedged against Rutabaga, who appeared to be sleeping. “Beet was dropped,” it whispered. “It just keeps making that noise now.”
“Oh.” Yam nodded. Maybe it was for the best. “So, no one knows where we're going?”
“We're all fricking geniuses, Yam,” Parsnip griped. “If you haven't noticed.”
Ginger shook her root, a movement that drew the eyes of all the tubers. “I heard we were going to start a farm.”
“It makes sense,” Radish said. “We were chosen, don't you see? For our superior qualities. We are going to part of something bigger than ourselves, something better than any of us has the power to imagine!”
Carrot trembled. “But we were taken! Just … picked! My mom was right there, and I'll never see her again! Why me?”
“Why? Why any of us?” Onion asked, breaking down into fresh sobs.
“You're in the blush of youth! The vigor of your cells is evident in your vibrant coloring. Perhaps Ginger is correct and it is to be a new collective, a radical and fresh harvest where we begin the seed our vaunted progeny!” Radish twiddled his stems. “Can you imagine the importance for our prospective gene pools? It's a new frontier, friends! Excellence has been recognized and rewarded!”
“Duh,” Beet said. It drooled a little.
“Totally! Give me five, bro. Great speech.” Potato grinned, but Yam directed its gaze away, unsure of the eye in which to look.
The gentle swaying they'd all grown accustomed to ceased, and they were jostled against each other as the sack was thrown onto a hard surface. “Excuse me,” Radish mumbled, pulling its face from Parsnip's leaf cluster, when the sack opened and Carrot was whisked away.
“Not Carrot!” Onion cried. “It was so young!”
Rutabaga yawned itself awake. “Whazzup, bitches?”
“Fear not for Carrot-”
Chop
Radish paused. “Carrot is but the first of us to experience the brave new frontier-”
Chop Chop Chop
“What's that?” Ginger asked.
Radish frowned. “The doorway to our freedom. Nothing more.”
A hand reached in, and Parsnip was the next to go.
“Fear not, friends, for the-”
Chop
Radish raised its voice to be heard over the rhythmic cleaving. “All is well. Preparations are merely underway for our arrival in the fresh hearth.”
Onion was the next to be selected, and the hacking heralded an overwhelming odor. Potato's many eyes watered.
“Let us embrace our dawning genesis.”
One by one, the bag was emptied of its contents until only Radish and Yam were left. “I shall see you on the other side, old chap,” Radish said as as pair of fingers grasped its stalk and it was lifted free. “Oh! That isn't what-”
“What is it? What do you see?” Yam tried to shout to Radish, but it was too late. It was gone.
Yam listened to the steady chop and tried not to be nervous. It was just as Radish had promised; the foundation was being laid and some furrows being dug. Its new home must be ready. It was Yam's turn next.
When the hand reached for Yam, it was glad. Fingers tightened around it, and it was ready for its future. The sack opened, and Yam opened its eyes to see glory awaiting.
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warning: mild language
Word Count: 785
Prompt: “bag of root vegetables”
A/N: Written for week #1 of brigits_flame.
A hand hovered before reaching down to make the final selection. Yam held still and silent; its patience was rewarded as it was lifted free of its brethren and placed in the sack after a cursory examination for flaws.
“Ow!” The sack was dark, but Yam could tell by the muffled exclamation that it'd been placed upon a fellow legume's body, possibly a head. It shifted in subtle apology and felt the whole bag of what could only be more root vegetables move to accommodate its movement. Yam felt itself slide towards the bottom.
“Pardon me, but could you roll to the side? You're crushing me against Potato,” Radish said.
“Oh, of course,” Yam said. It wedged itself against Ginger root and then blushed at the unintentional intimacy.
“Where are we going?” Carrot wailed from the top of the sack.
“Duh,” Beet said. “Duh. Duh.”
“No one knows!” Onion started to cry. “We've been kidnapped!”
Radish cleared its throat. “Friends! We must find the last measure of our courage in these trying times and resolve not to panic.”
“Who died and made you King Weed of the Produce Patch?” Parsnip sneered.
Potato rocked back and forth. “Radish is right; fighting isn't the answer! We should hug it out. Anyone?”
“Right here, Idaho,” Ginger purred.
“What else would you expect from a rhizome?” Parsnip spat.
“Duh. Duhduhduh,” Beet said.
Yam looked at Beet. “Is it okay? Why does it keep saying that?”
Carrot glanced down from where it was wedged against Rutabaga, who appeared to be sleeping. “Beet was dropped,” it whispered. “It just keeps making that noise now.”
“Oh.” Yam nodded. Maybe it was for the best. “So, no one knows where we're going?”
“We're all fricking geniuses, Yam,” Parsnip griped. “If you haven't noticed.”
Ginger shook her root, a movement that drew the eyes of all the tubers. “I heard we were going to start a farm.”
“It makes sense,” Radish said. “We were chosen, don't you see? For our superior qualities. We are going to part of something bigger than ourselves, something better than any of us has the power to imagine!”
Carrot trembled. “But we were taken! Just … picked! My mom was right there, and I'll never see her again! Why me?”
“Why? Why any of us?” Onion asked, breaking down into fresh sobs.
“You're in the blush of youth! The vigor of your cells is evident in your vibrant coloring. Perhaps Ginger is correct and it is to be a new collective, a radical and fresh harvest where we begin the seed our vaunted progeny!” Radish twiddled his stems. “Can you imagine the importance for our prospective gene pools? It's a new frontier, friends! Excellence has been recognized and rewarded!”
“Duh,” Beet said. It drooled a little.
“Totally! Give me five, bro. Great speech.” Potato grinned, but Yam directed its gaze away, unsure of the eye in which to look.
The gentle swaying they'd all grown accustomed to ceased, and they were jostled against each other as the sack was thrown onto a hard surface. “Excuse me,” Radish mumbled, pulling its face from Parsnip's leaf cluster, when the sack opened and Carrot was whisked away.
“Not Carrot!” Onion cried. “It was so young!”
Rutabaga yawned itself awake. “Whazzup, bitches?”
“Fear not for Carrot-”
Chop
Radish paused. “Carrot is but the first of us to experience the brave new frontier-”
Chop Chop Chop
“What's that?” Ginger asked.
Radish frowned. “The doorway to our freedom. Nothing more.”
A hand reached in, and Parsnip was the next to go.
“Fear not, friends, for the-”
Chop
Radish raised its voice to be heard over the rhythmic cleaving. “All is well. Preparations are merely underway for our arrival in the fresh hearth.”
Onion was the next to be selected, and the hacking heralded an overwhelming odor. Potato's many eyes watered.
“Let us embrace our dawning genesis.”
One by one, the bag was emptied of its contents until only Radish and Yam were left. “I shall see you on the other side, old chap,” Radish said as as pair of fingers grasped its stalk and it was lifted free. “Oh! That isn't what-”
“What is it? What do you see?” Yam tried to shout to Radish, but it was too late. It was gone.
Yam listened to the steady chop and tried not to be nervous. It was just as Radish had promised; the foundation was being laid and some furrows being dug. Its new home must be ready. It was Yam's turn next.
When the hand reached for Yam, it was glad. Fingers tightened around it, and it was ready for its future. The sack opened, and Yam opened its eyes to see glory awaiting.