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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by Douglas on September 20, 2008

Cravings

They say that your body knows exactly what it needs. I'm talking about cravings. At some level which is more instinctual than conscious, your body tells you what is lacking, even though you could never arrive at a rational explanation for the foods you crave.

This is why, they say, when a pregnant woman develops a strange and hideous craving for a grilled-dill-pickle-and-peanut-butter sandwich, you do not stop to question or argue; you simply break out the pickles and peanut butter and go to work. Somehow her body knows it is missing a particular blend of nutrients that can only be satisfied by this unlikely mix of ingredients.

I have, of course, never been pregnant, so I'm not sure I've experienced that sort of craving. Most of my cravings are for things like potato chips, chocolate, and ice cream; I'm fairly certain, however, that those are conscious cravings, rather than instinctual.

But after being sick for two days, and not eating anything more substantial than a slice of bread or two over the course of forty-eight hours, I awoke yesterday with a desperate, almost violent hunger in the pit of my stomach.

I need to eat something, I thought, as I headed for the kitchen.

Breakfast food. Oatmeal? My stomach churned a bit. Toast and jam? That's a good breakfast food, right? My body told my eyes to look elsewhere. Cheerios. Waffles. Bagels?

No, no, and no.

Like a mindless automaton I opened the freezer and studied its contents. I walked to the cupboard and did the same. Those are not breakfast foods, my mind interjected, asserting temporary control as I slammed the cupboard closed.

English muffins. Hm? Raisin Bran?

Strangely, I found myself back at the cupboard, studying the same items again. What are you doing, body? I asked my stubbornly unresponsive body as it started pulling items willy-nilly and setting them on the countertop.

Which is why, yesterday, I had a delightful breakfast of wild rice and fried chicken, the weirdness of which - as a breakfast food - is surpassed only by this morning's piping hot bowl of lentil soup.

I really hope my body knows what it is doing...

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