Too Talkative


I sat upon a high mountain overlooking a beautiful river valley. It was spring and the trees were flowering, insects were buzzing, and a light warm breeze blew across my face as the sun continued its morning rise in a baby-blue sky filled with wonderfully fluffy clouds. I barely saw and completely ignored all of it. My mind was a roiling mass of self-pity. I seethed with resentment.

I started to flick a caterpillar from my sleeve when it lifted its head and spoke to me.

“Hey man. You’re bumming us all out, not to mention upsetting all the dirt and rocks. Cut it out, will ya?”


“You’re not doing yourself any favors either, you know.”


I flicked him from my sleeve and intentionally stepped on and squashed him when I stood up.

“Mouthy damn bug.”

I lay down under a tree facing the valley and took a nap. Things got marginally better after that. All in all, it was not much to put in a letter to Mom.

Thanks for letting me share.


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