I wake up whenever the big bright thing comes back, you call it a sun but I don’t know that fact. I don’t have a specific schedule, my mud hut is pretty basic but arguably influential. I don’t start my mornings with green eggs and ham, a freshly caught rabbit shall be breakfast for the fam.
Most of my day consists of finding food, whatever’s around, no particular mood. Everything I’ve learned I teach to my child, this uncivilized world can get pretty wild. After playing with junior I look for more food, I see a fellow ‘magnon “What’s up, my dude?” We forage for nuts and we forage for berries, leaves will do, but, you know, it varies.
When the cold goes away we’ll begin to farm, we’ll change the land what’s the harm? It’s almost dinner what could I make? There’s a lot of fish down in that lake. I crouch near the water and aim my harpoon, I sense a tasty supper sometime soon. Compared to the average human my senses are keen, lucky for you It’s 2016.
I’m stuck in the food chain, you shouldn’t complain. I had to outrun a bear today, I ran uphill and shouted, “HOORAY!” The hill had a spider, it couldn’t be wider. It bites my ankle, making me rankled. I’m growing pretty tired, possibly due to the bite I acquired.
My head gets heavy and my thoughts start to fade, I try to focus on the idea I last made. I look at the tiny dots in the night, contemplating my place and where I fit right. My species so young, our world so mysterious, what you have yet to learn should make you delirious.
I curl up on the floor and close my eyes, the story of my life forever fossilized. My tribe members bury me but I’m not the first, an underground sea of dead bodies is all that remains in the land we traversed.
I wrote this for my anthropology class back in 2016.