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Trial

I am a member of a writing group called Five Minute Friday. Every Friday I am given a one-word writing prompt which I am to write about for five minutes and publish unedited. The prompt for this week is: Trial.




I sit at my writing desk in front of a bay window, but the words do not come. Frustrated, I look out the window and daydream. On the window's ledge outside, there are two lizards. It is Florida, where lizards peek out of flowerpots, behind wood frames and hanging door decorations. These two lizards are at odds. One clamps his mouth on the others's chest, I can see the heaving breaths of the victim. What do lizards fight about? Did he wander into the wrong territory? Is a female close by? Maybe it is just what two male lizards do when they cross paths.


He is losing. A self-amputated tail lies nearby, his last defense. His mouth is agape, gasping. He claws and wriggles for freedom, but freedom seems futile. Does he think he has met his end? Does he think of his life the way I do when I am desperate? Precious.


The aggressor lets go, suddenly uninterested. Or has he made his point? The victim, still, contemplates his situation. Wounded but alive. What now? How long before his last defense grows back? Did he learn his lesson on territories? I wonder if the fight will strengthen him for the next trial to come. Will he have to learn his lesson the hard way and sacrifice his tail multiple times before he learns? Maybe this time, the trial will make him resilient, wise, and strong. Maybe this time, the trial will teach him the greatest lesson he can learn; humility.

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