A Family of Dotters
a piece of prompted fiction by The Overlord Bear
prompted by Alecto at Storyteller’s Circle
Prompt: Generation One – “Vicious, bloodthirsty and lack of morals described them.”
Almost everyone in his tribe found him weird.
While the men hunted meaty animals, picked out flavoring plants, and clobbered convenient makers of food, he was all alone with the little dots which they often spat out of their fruits and vegetables, burying them into the soil like they were dead bodies which did not deserve to bring stink to their air…but those little dots did not stink, though, so they simply laughed at him for putting his attention into such insignificant things.
What could come from such little things, anyway? They needed food, and they needed it soon, and whatever he was doing was just a waste of time.
He would die before something good happened to those things.
His fellow hunters managed to convince him that way…but not exactly in the way his fellows thought.
He still went to hunt and pick, but he never killed the different yet convenient wanderers. While his fellow men were sitting around a fire and feasting on their cooked finds beside dead bodies, he drew away with his share of the cooked food as soon as he could, returning to his mate and their children, who had been looking after the little dots they had buried into the soil.
And sure, there was pain in not eating the delicious warmth of the cooked food which took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to find and prepare, but his mate and their children had to have better food for better growth, and they were very insistent about having their meaty and therefore superior food, so much that they tried to bite his arms and legs to get what they wanted.
At the very least, he still found a lot more opportunities to gather more of those little dots from the fruits and vegetables. They were often not to his taste, though, especially in terms of the usually greens and purples and such dark sprouts, but as the days passed with him eating more of those, he realized that he felt better than his tribemates were usually feeling. It was like the world seemed brighter and clearer that way, see.
Yes, that was another thing to add to his curiosity about plants. At the start of it all, he had been wondering if they grew like their children, swelling up within the inside of a female. He and his mate tried to test that once, but that ended with his mate screeching and smacking away at him when they tried to stuff soil along into her birthholder to make sure that the dots held.
So yes, burying those little dots into the soil was an off-chance testing. It was strange, certainly, having to bury them like they were dead, but they weren’t stinky, so it didn’t become much of a worry.
More worrying, though, were the cackles of the hunters, the scrapings of other creatures, and the ravages of the rain and other such forces.
Still, the strange family of dotters waited and waited and waited, living their usual hunting and picking and waiting.
And when the father found little stems with little leaves coming out of the soil where he remembered burying those little dots, he joyfully whooped with the rest of his family.
They were still laughed at by the rest of the tribe, though.
Even if fruits and vegetables grew from their little dots, they still grew slowly. Therefore, growing them would still be a waste of time.
But the family of dotters, insistent on developing their discoveries and tired of their tribemates’ mockery, chose to be left behind as the next migration began.
The family left behind never heard from that tribe ever again after that.
Author’s Note: This was first posted at Storyteller’s Circle, which I joined recently thanks to a certain special someone, and am now getting into to get an approved account, more friends, and more writing fun!
Also, I think all those uni classes about the short story have been helping me out, alright…
Anyway, honest constructive feedback is highly encouraged and will be highly appreciated!