Wednesday, November 21, 2018

A Feast for the Senses

Warning: Strong Language, Mature Themes.

A writing prompt focusing on the five senses.

Caronia is a feast for the senses. A bangling, rambling, smoking, conniving, gamboling, gesticulating, flatulating, festooning, simmering, careening stewpot of the known world. If you can’t find it in Caronia, it isn’t to be found, and if it can be found, it can be bought, and if it can be bought it can be bedazzled and then sold again at four times the price. I tell the willing rubes that I was born here and know this saucy wench of a city like the back of my own cod, but only the latter is truthfulness. I came here like all the rest with gimbals in my eyes, searching for the city of spangles and thrice-fried dumplings, and found all I was looking for and none of it. Once you shiv yourself in between her bosoms, Caronia both loves you and shits down your throat. She feeds you perfect cherries on lotus blossoms with one hand and crushes your walnuts with the other. But she’s mine and I’m hers like a bubo shaped like the Mother Mary.