Mating Imago for Lunch, Again

I’m posting today my entry to the Writers’ Building Platform Campaign 2nd challenge. The requirements are as follows:
Write a blog post in 200 words orless, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction,non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should:

  • Include the word “imago” in the title include the following 4 random words: “miasma,” “lacuna,” “oscitate,” “synchronicity,” (same as synchronism)
  • If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional and included in the word count), make reference to a mirror in your post.
  • For those who want an evengreater challenge (optional), make your post 200 words EXACTLY!
  • Glossary:
    Imago: Insect in itssexually mature adult stage after metamorphosis.
    Miasma: Noxious atmosphere.
    Lacuna: A gap or space.
    Oscitate: Gape or Yawn.
    Synchronicity: Events that happen together by chance.

I am number 170. If you like it, click here to vote for me:

Like in that Asimov novel, the two mirror suns of Miasma II preclude nightfall.   I’ve been stuck here for 329 days, about 3 Earth months.  I survived the crash of my ship, but I’m starving to death.  I could complain about the series of events that brought me to this crap hole, named for its noxious smells, but instead, I’ll be grateful for the synchronicity of my life.

My supplies will last another month.  They won’t start looking for me for a month after that.   I’m eating one meal ration per day to draw out my chances.   In the lacuna, I’ve started eating the only thing that lives on this planet, bugs.   There’s this species that comes out at the hottest part of the day.  The male dances around like Richard Simmons and if he’s unlucky he mates with the female.  Unlucky because after they are done, there is this moment where she stares, winks, and with a little oscitate, bites his head off.   It’s the funniest thing.  I like snatching and eating the little fella right before she kills him. Better me than her.

Poor little fella probably thought he was doing alright before he died, kinda like me.

Mating Imago for Lunch, Again

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