Monday, September 2, 2013

Three Minutes at the Library

Normanday #92: I met a man named Abraham in the 900s.

Write for three minutes about…

something that happened in the library.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day September 8 (put “Norman has Never Seen a Card Catalog” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old).

Here is the single entry from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

the hardest thing you didn’t do.

I was strolling through the woods minding my own business when I heard what I’d call a ruckus. Lots of laughing and yelling and general goofing around. I’m not an eavesdropper by nature, but I ducked behind a bush to hide until I saw who was making all the noise. I wouldn’t say I’m anti-social, but large groups make me nervous. Pretty soon I saw a bunch of kids rounding the bend in the trail. There were boys and girls. They were all wearing purple t-shirts that said Camp Crumpleton. They walked in a jumbled kind of line with an adult in the lead. He had a pair of binoculars. He kept pointing out birds and squirrels and plants, but none of the kids were paying attention to him. He tried raising his voice, clapping, and whistling but they didn’t hear him. Finally he gave up. I felt sorry for him walking along all dejected and frustrated that the kids didn’t care about the things he was trying to point out to them. For a second I had the urge to jump out in the middle of the trail, wave my arms like a maniac, and yell “Look! It’s a black-throated green warbler!” That would have gotten their attention for sure. The temptation was strong. But I was good. I waited until they passed before coming out from behind the bush and continuing my walk.

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