Scribbles – Desiree Ducharme

Describe yourself in one word:

Avocado.

Avocado is delicious. Avocado is deceptive. When it looks like it has gone bad, it is at its best. Despite the ruff exterior, Avocado has a vibrant, lush interior with a solid core. Avocado is efficient. It comes in its own mixing bowl which is also biodegradable. Minimal accessories are needed to enjoy Avocado. Just a sharp edge, bit of stick or rock or nail. Avocado is versatile. It can shine on its own but also plays well with others. Is especially good with lime. Can be savory or sweet or spicy. Can be grown indoors, but is most productive outside. Thrives in warm climates.

Avocado is fun to say. It has only seven letters but is four syllables long. You use your lips and teeth and tongue to say it. Like you are consuming the word as you would the flesh. Avocado.

Avocado is resilient. Its core can be stripped bare, removed from its lush surroundings, cast aside and forgotten. Yet with some sticks and a bit of water and sunlight, it begins again.

They always arrive in groups at solstice. Five or more at a time. One year, the solstice brought 16. It was good for the economy. Her uncle was right on that account. She had counted 8 banners over two days. It took them two more days to get their camps established. Thousands of people. So many of them. It was a bad sign. There would be a lot of death.

Hippolyta was tired of death, but death was the choice they left her with. Is it really a choice if there is only one option? The old men would knock soon. They would make their opening statements. Present their opinions on how valuable her life was. Her worth. How many lives she could save. The cost was always the same. The cost was death. Her death or their death. Her people or their people. Her coffee was cold. She threw it back anyway. The tapestry rustled. Jane arriving with a tray.