Creative writing prompt #9 – I smell worried

Humourous warning sign - flatulenceEach morning, the sulphuric odour of rotten eggs hits the nostrils of my mind.

Of course, no sooner have I noticed that smell than I throw off the covers to dissipate the man stench, open the curtains and open the window.

Because you see, every day is a new day, a day with new smells.  The wind is constantly changing, clearing away old smells and bringing new ones; an opportunity for fresh thinking.

Yet at various points of each day, I find myself surrounded by the malodorous smells of concerns and situations which, if unaddressed, become a haze of flatulence drifting over ruts and ditches filled with the left over morsels of yesterday’s cogitation, that rotting food itself regurgitated and chewed as cud as I gently masticate myself to sleep.

It is said that we breathe in, without knowing, around a litre of other people’s intestinal gasses every day.  There are the smells people leave behind, and the smells that they bring with them wherever I encounter them; the smells of their undigested thoughts, which they’ve been holding in and saving just for me, waiting to release them as soon as the doors of the crowded London Underground train doors close.  I of course, add to the swampy air of that sardine can as I stand ruminating and meditating upon the what ifs which fill my waking thoughts, and which occupy a great deal of my time.

Never do I suppose that the smell of my anxieties and preoccupations will hit the mental nasal passages of my fellow commuters, but of course people can smell that can’t they? I mean, it’s not as if there is likely to be such a thing as telepathy as such, they don’t know what is in my head, but their noses are subconsciously twitching for the odour of any faecal matter which might mean there would be a reason for them to look up from their e-book readers, for the herd to panic and to huddle around the exit doors…

…as it turns out on most days however, and contradicting the reality of the nature of our anal sputterings, I notice the smell of my worries more than others notice it; indeed the potency of this methanic fragrance is only increased by my worrying that others will notice.

Now I have this blog within which to unleash the consequences of my cogitations.

Take a deep breath, and dive in 🙂

Based on a prompt from


About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
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