My writing group meets once a week to discuss craft and do
writerly things that make us feel productive and artistic and to generally justify our smugness for being productive artists. Every meeting begins with
exercises designed to flex our imaginations. These exercises are always five
minutes long and include things like sketching images based on a given theme,
writing six-word stories, etc.
In last week’s meeting, we were to write a flash fiction story.
The theme: someone needing directions.
And since we’d been discussing Lovecraft moments before the
timer started, I had Cthulhu on the mind. Thought I’d share.
“Excuse me, sir, can you provide directions to the Cthulhu Monument? We’re not from this galaxy.”
“Of course, of course. It’s quite simple indeed. Take
a left at the Mountains of Madness, then an immediate left when you see Fish
Head Nebula. Be sure to recite a limerick from the Necronomicon when you do.
After the limerick, take another left. Stop at the Dexter Monument and
high-five a cultist before taking a final left. Stop when you see an old man
standing by himself and you're there.”
“But . . . four lefts? Won’t that bring us back here?”
“Indeed! Look to your right and behold Mighty Cthulhu!”
“Oh bother. You, sir, are maddening.”
