The image is of a pitcher I bought in a 2nd hand store. Your word is “Method”
You don’t have to use the actual word in your piece but do include its essence. For those of you writing a cohesive story you don’t literally have to write your next piece in a different genre or disconnect it from your ongoing story though that is one way to include the word. For those not writing a cohesive story you can experiment with an unfamiliar genre. You can have your character question their direction in life, their sanity, their moral integrity, their place in a relationship, their identity etc. There are lots of ways to use this word I believe so get creative.
There was a method in their madness
So my mother said.
The alien spaceship sat in our backyard.
We all stood at the window
Wondering what next?
A door slid open in the side of the silver
Cylinder with lawn mower wheels
Or so they seemed to me.
We waited in expectation of creatures green,
Tentacles and scaly skins
After all we’d watched the sci-fi channel.
A small bespectacled man stepped out
He looked about and then looked at us
We were mesmerised, spell bound by the ordinary
He wore an Armani suit, polished shoes,
And carried a small clay pitcher,
He asked my mother if she could spare some milk.
Mother was very hospitable
She invited him in
Sat him at the kitchen table
Laid out her best china
Ladled some milk into his pitcher
Asked him his name.
‘Call me Mister Smith,’ he said
‘My real name doesn’t translate.’
Mister Smith sat at our table
He sipped Mum’s herbal tea
Said it was most delicious.
Mum asked him where he was from
He said. ‘$^##@)&%&$^(‘
‘Pardon?’ asked Mum.
‘Oh sorry,’ he said, ‘Prazxton North.’
We were none the wiser and I asked just where that was.
He looked at me and said, ‘You know the Milky Way?’
‘Yes,’ I replied.
‘Nowhere near that.’
And giggled at his little joke.
Then he cleared his throat
‘Three light years away,
A sharp left beyond Pluto,
You can’t miss it.’
‘You didn’t come all this way for a cup of milk?’
‘Well yes we are galactic milk surveyors.
Have pitcher will travel.’
With that he produced a small vial
And poured a substance into the pitcher.
There was a rumble, a stumble,
Steam and froth, bubbles and bursting
Then a pop and all was done.
On the side of the pitcher a small green light glowed
‘All good,’ announced Mister Smith
He then left us
His door slide closed and the craft ascended
Then in the wink of an eye
Vanished into the heavens.
‘Oh look,’ said mum, ‘he left the pitcher.’
Might be valuable we thought.
‘No,’ said mum, ‘who’d believe us?’