Friday Fictioneers: Web Of Knowledge


She slammed the book closed in a dignified manner, knowing she had added a string of new knowledge to her ever-growing web of it. Carefully she slid it back into the bookshelf and dislodged another ancient manuscript which had been lost in time. The dust coating the edge of its yellowed pages, crammed in a rudimentary fashion, was easily blown away with a wisp of her breath.

With a content sigh, she leaned back into the comfy rocking chair which creaked with age like the bones of an old man. She flicked her heels off and rested her relieved feet on a box of more books, before plunging into a new pool of knowledge found in the realm of literature.


Picture It & Write: A Weekends Work


The idea had worked it’s way into her head, like a vine which wove it’s way so eccentrically into a trellis it took days to cut away. A single seed of an idea had been planted in her brain and grown so erratically there seemed no reason to cut it. She didn’t know if the idea was good or bad, just that it had to be done, so she got to work after thinking about it for two years.

With a shovel and hedge trimmer as her two most prioritised weapons, she got down to the dirty business of digging out it’s roots. Slowly but efficiently, she tore each single root out, no matter how small or big it was, whether it was the same as a hair width or a body builders arm, it was pulled out. She knew the roots were where it got it nutrients and water, water was an essential to living, so logically the roots were too. She hacked and slashed at the stem and leaves also, not only to release her blossoming anger for the vile thing but also to prevent it from making food, transporting water throughout it’s body and reproducing and spreading it’s evil.

At last she sat back on her haunches and sighed heavily with relief, her husband brought a deckchair and glass of champagne round and the two looked on happily at the large hole in the ground and wheelbarrow load of the plants remains. Her two children stalked off with stooped shoulders, relieved the painful summer holiday chore was over. She laughed and sneered at the evil remains of weeds and ugly plants the previous owner of the house had left behind.

“Great, we can use the firewood for kindling!” Her husband said.

“Good idea, and next weekend we’ll plant beautiful new plants there instead,” She sighed, the two laughed, littled did they know the children had heard and were groaning in aggrivation at the idea of another weekend working instead of wearing out their fingers playing xbox.