Writing Prompt: The meal was simple but filling.

Morning all and happy Monday to you. I hope your weekend was quiet and restful. Or exciting and fabulous, whichever you prefer. I hope you got whatever it is that you needed out if it and are now ready to face a new week. Can you believe it is August already? Madness. Still, time does like to march. So lets get moving ourselves with the morning writing prompt. Are you ready? Excellent, then let those timers tick.

Not bad for a Mondy. Definitely some potential. I’ll need a lot more details and I’ll have to think through what happened, but it could be a fun tale to tell. well maybe not fun. But interesting to write.

Monday, August 2nd: The meal was simple but filling.

The meal was simple but filling.  It consisted of bread paired with some sort of stew or soup.  In all honesty I couldn’t tell which.  It was thicker than anything I would call a soup, but lacked any identifiable pieces of meat. 

‘Maybe a vegetable stew,’ I thought.  I was pretty certain there were turnips in it and some sort of bean or possibly grain.  Whatever it was had seen set on the fire a long time ago and was set to slowly cook until all was the same consistency.  I was fairly certain there were leeks in the mix as they provided a sort of vegetal bright spot I associated with greens along with a slight oniony taste. 

‘Admittedly there could be onions in there as well.’  It was hard to tell one formless lump from another.  There were no spices and no real herbage.  There was salt though.

The bread placed on the table to pair with the stew was plentiful.  Most of those around me used it to dip into the soup.  On occasion they would simply use it as a platform, piling scoops onto the bread and eating it like that.  No one seemed to take the spoons directly from the bowl to their mouths. I did my best to imitate those around me and hoped I gave no offense.

I was a stranger here.  They found me wandering with no memory outside of the village and brought me in.  I was inspected by those at the church and a lump was found on the back of my head.  It was a sign, they said, of some sort of accident.  They claimed that was why my memory was gone.  In time they hoped my injury would heal and my memories return. 

I stayed in the infirmary a few days and then I was taken around the village to try my skill at different tasks in the hope that something familiar would spark my mind.  While no thoughts came, my hands found skills I could do. I was put to work being productive and given into the care of one of the tenant farmers until my memories returned. 

It wasn’t a bad sort of existence.  The people were nice and while I was expected to work hard at the tasks assigned me, so was everyone else.  All worked for the good and survival of the whole.  The work didn’t bother me.  In fact the watching wasn’t a problem either.  Any time I was assigned a new task I was watched until they were certain I could perform it satisfactorily. 

They seemed puzzled as to my skills and found interest in trying me at ‘new tasks’.  It was as though they were trying hard to fit me into a category and somehow, I didn’t quite fit into any of them. 

For my part, the difficulty, besides the frustration of remembering nothing of my past, was that everything seemed vaguely alien to me.  Everything seemed familiar, but slightly off as though it was bent out of shape. Nothing quite fit with my expectations so I felt continually surprised.

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