Out! Go on! Take your stuff and hit the road. You are not wanted around here anymore. You broke my heart with your lies. I abhor the feel of your mouth. My bed is not big enough for three! Out! Go on! Take your stuff and hit the road.
The fiery battle raged for days; in the end Evalyn, the Pirate Goddess, was victorious … but at what cost?
While fighting on deck, there was a sudden cannon retort followed by grapeshot finding its mark … Evalyn’s beautiful face. Her eyes were spared but she was disfigured.
That one day changed Evalyn into a stronger woman. For her, nothing else mattered.
Fashioning a mask of solid gold, she became Evalyn, the Noble Pirate.
It’s 8AM at the humane society and all the residents are enjoying their freshly cleaned digs, and that means nice crisp newspapers lining the floor, just in case. Accidents happen, you know!
Today they’re in for a special treat; the papers are opened to the birth announcements page!
All the pups are besotted by the photo of a beautiful baby with big blue eyes. Sure looks like a playful and happy little tyke! They stare longingly at the baby’s photo, wistfully talking among themselves about the greatest thing that could happen to them, the one thing that would change their lonely doggie lives …. to be adopted and to find themselves in a new forever home with a special friend to play with and grow up with …. just like this little guy.
“It sure would be swell, wouldn’t it?” they ask each other, visions of blankets, chew toys and bouncy rubber balls swirling in their heads. “Maybe today will be our lucky day!”
At 9AM the humane society opens its doors to the public and a few families start streaming in. Most of the parents are being tugged by eager kids hoping to find a best friend to share their home and their lives. Everyone is optimistic and excited.
Today is a big day …. maybe it will be their lucky day!
Come in, little one. You’ve nothing to fear from me. Don’t be shy now. Come away from the door where you are peeking and step inside. This is my enchanted place, my special magic space.
That’s it, child, one step at a time. Look around to your heart’s content. There’s nothing bad here. But I must caution you not to touch anything. The time will come for that and you must be patient.
Ah, I see you’ve noticed my book. It’s lovely, isn’t it? I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen one quite like it, have you? You have many questions, little one. They’re in you eyes, in the slight tilt of your head and the almost imperceptible upturn of your lips. It’s pleasing, is it not, this little book of mine?
It’s magic, you know. But then again, in the right hands, all books are magic. Yes it’s true. You hold the key, child. Not in your pocket or inside your shoe but in your mind and in your heart.
Come closer, child. Read from the book, listen to what it tells you. Enchanting, isn’t it? No need to touch, my dear. The pages will turn themselves.
I know what you’re thinking. Where can you get such a wondrous book? Am I right? I knew it! They’re all around you, child! Everywhere! But I have something special to share with you. Come close to hear my secret. Let me whisper in your ear.
My dear, not only can you read these beguiling pages. You can write them! Imagine the places you will visit, child.
There’s nothing to fear, little one. Simply step inside the blue bubble and all will become clear to you. That’s it, child. Step inside the magic land of books and dreams and amazing ideas. It’s a captivating place. Enchanting, isn’t it?
Dedicated to my 7th grade teacher, Mrs. Romana Paschal, who encouraged me to write and whispered in my ear to reach for the all the dreams, little and big.
I’m sorry for the things I said and did. There’s no greater pain than brothers grown apart. How I have prayed for this day when we put our anger to rest and cried “I love you, my dear brother”. I’m sorry for the things I said and did.
Dectina Refrain: This poem is written as follows: 1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables 3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines; the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines and is a stand-alone 10-syllable line.
The young man, rail thin and incredibly tall, ran through the courtyard like a gangling, indelicate giraffe. One hand planted firmly on his head kept his cap from flying off …. a common occurrence .… while the other hand jutting out to his side performed the function of a human rudder keeping him on course. An over-large cowl flapped disobediently from one shoulder to the other. On his feet he wore simple sandals and his spindly legs took giant strides in an exaggerated attempt to keep them on his feet.
From a distance he could have easily been mistaken for an apoplectic ostrich.
A quick glance at the sun and the shadows cast by the stone columns confirmed what the young man already knew – he was late. Again. He quickened his pace, awkwardly darting between the pillars, and spied the grated entrance to his right. He flew toward it, nearly falling flat on his face onto the cobblestones beneath his feet.
The young man flung open the gate and quickly entered, hunching over to prevent his head from hitting the doorframe. He stood for a few seconds in the shadows to collect himself, then quietly opened the chapel door and slipped into the one empty space at the end of the stone bench.
None of his brothers dared acknowledge his late arrival but he knew he would be called to task for this transgression.
NB: When I saw Sadje’s photo prompt, I was immediately reminded of The Cloisters in the Bronx, NY, an extension of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s a fascinating place which I have visited many times. To take a look inside The Met Cloisters, click here.
Today Sadje is asking us “What do you see?“ Using her image along with Eugi’s word prompt “boundless” and Fandango’s word prompt “back”, this is my response.
Image credit: Jr Korpa @Unsplash
I stand at the doorway and watch as she stretches her legs from her car seat in the back of her daddy’s car, grunting with that Little Engine That Could determination until her fur-trimmed black ankle boots finally reach the curb. With the boundless spirit of a 3 year old, she runs up the path to our front door, stops for a second to wave at our North Pole decorations, and gaily calls out “Grammy! Grampy! It’s your Kukla! I’m here!” …. my nickname for our youngest granddaughter, Colette. She flings herself into my arms and we share a big warm Kukla Hug. Her hugs are the best and I don’t want to let go. Eyes smiling, she excitedly tells me she saw Santa and the elves outside and asks if we can bake Christmas cookies today. Every day with her really is the most wonderful time of the year.
I’m writing this letter to you, Mother, knowing it will never be sent; you’re gone now so there is no one to send it to but still, some words needed to be said.
We scattered your ashes by that old tree that stands alone in a barren field, the tree you always compared yourself to whenever we drove by; how many times did I have to hear you make a comment about that damn tree?
It was rough growing up thinking I was unloved by you and there were times I hated you for that; for years I thought it was something I had done but now realize it was something you couldn’t do – let your guard down and your emotions out and show me a mother’s love.
My teen years were the turning point for me because I got out of the house and freed myself of the strange power you had over me; how I resented you and your aloofness …. so many years wasted …. and now as I look back, I feel sorry for you because you chose to keep yourself deeply rooted behind the walls you built.
I remember once overhearing a fight you had with Dad, an argument about how it was – as you put it – ‘unmanly’ of him to dote over me; that was the only time I saw Dad get angry, shouting at you that he had to shower me with the love of two parents because you were unable or unwilling to express your love.
Well, Mother, I’m happy to say I have a warm and loving family, I’m nothing like you and I will not spend my life wondering how things could have been different if you had torn down those walls you hid behind; now you’re gone, your ashes cast into the wind, and I will be the one who will rest peacefully.
“Great! Just great! First I drop my phone in the toilet; now I can’t find my Magellan! Where is that dang GPS? I coulda sworn I put it in the glove box a couple of years ago. This aughta be fun, trying to figure out how to get to my sales meeting without directions. Lemme take another look.
Nope, it’s not in here but there’s my jumper cables. Thought I lost them the time my engine died on me the night of the office Christmas party. Hot damn, that was a wild shindig! Who woulda guessed Uptight Tina from R&D could be such a temptress?
Let’s see what we got here … napkins, ketchup packets, pencils, pencils, more pencils, a menu from Panda Pavilion, a roach clip. No GPS. Now hold on just a second. What’s this? Oh man, do my eyes deceive me? A cassette tape! Right on!! Ah, that explains all the pencils!Oh man, from the days when music was good.
Hmm, looks like one of my old homemade jobs. I wonder what’s on it … writing’s all smudged so could be anything. Well, I’m good and lost but at least I’ll have some company on the road. I’m just gonna slip this baby in and see what develops.
Her parents were good people; they were just too damn young to be raising a family. They didn’t do anything wrong unless you call falling in love wrong. Should they have had unsafe sex? Of course not, but listen – we’ve all gotten caught up in the heat of the moment for many reasons. Their passion resulted in an unwanted pregnancy.
For two 14 year old kids, they made a very mature decision: they put their baby girl up for adoption. They could have chosen any other avenue but they chose the right one for them and their daughter. There are so many good options available to pregnant girls and women who are not ready, not willing, not able to keep their babies. Then there are also illegal abortion mills with doctors willing to rip a fetus from the mother’s womb for a price. How do those people sleep at night?
My husband and I weren’t looking for another child; we already had three, all strawberry blondes with dove-like skin and blue eyes. Just like us. It was my sister who wanted to adopt. Desperately. When she got the call, she wept for joy … until she learned Zoe was black and not a newborn but three years old. My sister said no. Flat refusal. I couldn’t believe this was the girl I grew up with. What happened to her open mind and arms, her loving heart. They’re still there but only for babies that look like mine.
Zoe hid behind the skirt of the lady at the adoption center. When I kneeled down and opened my arms, she looked at me very tentatively. I smiled, nodded my head and she took off like a little rabbit running straight into my arms. And we hugged like our lives depended on it; in a way, they did.
She is our daughter now and the fit was seamless, like those lovely Russian nesting dolls. Our biological children love Zoe and she loves them. And us. We’re crazy about all our kids and wonder why we didn’t do this sooner. Zoe is our fourth daughter; we already decided we’re going for five.
One very large bedroom with three sets of bunk beds. It’s messy and noisy and all over the place but it’s a happy, beautiful thing.
Fantasy Land, May 2, 1865 – The day started out as any ordinary sunny spring day in Fantasy Land but by noon the town was in a frenzy for the news was out that 9 year old Mary Andrews had lost her lamb, Snowflake. Mary had Snowflake for only a few months but they had become attached to each other immediately, so much so that he followed her to school every day, even though Mary knew it was against the rules. Teacher Sarah Johnson had this to say: “Mary’s such a lovely girl and Snowflake is so sweet with his fleece as white as snow. I didn’t mind the fact that the lamb followed Mary to school because she always tied him to a nearby tree but today for some reason he followed her right into the classroom. As you can imagine all the children wanted to do was laugh and play.” Pressed for more information, Miss Johnson went on to say that she took Snowflake outside herself and tied him to the tree but when the children went out to play, the lamb was nowhere in sight. The three blind mice who live across the road from the school became rather indignant when questioned about the incident. “Of course we didn’t see anything, you fool! We’re blind as bats! But we did hear some strange noises near the tree shortly before the children came outside.” When asked to described the noises one mouse said “It sounded like pulling or tugging” while another thought it was more like a snapping sound. The third mouse added “There was definitely a scuffle of some sort. Poor little Snowflake.” Mary’s parents, Abigail and Wyatt Andrews, rushed to the school to console their daughter. Mr. Andrews was visibly upset to learn that the teacher had taken Snowflake away from Mary. “She had no right touching that lamb. She’s a school teacher, not a farmer and has no idea how to tie a proper knot. She should have asked Mary to tie Snowflake to the tree like she always does.” Moments later Little Bo-Peep arrived on the scene and was asked her opinion on the incident. “Well, I’ve been a shepherdess for a long time now and if there’s one thing I know it’s this: If you leave them alone they’ll come home wagging their tails behind them.” By mid-afternoon all the town’s residents had gathered at the school and formed search parties to look for Snowflake. Even Humpty Dumpty was there, sad and terribly broken up. In all my years as a reporter I’ve never seen such an outpouring of support. A new development as Hansel and Gretel just arrived at the school. “Wait! We think we can help!” they cried and tearfully reminded those of us still at the school of their traumatic encounter with the evil witch who held them captive in her gingerbread house. “We all know how much Snowflake loves to eat wildflowers” Hansel said. Gretel added “The witch has flowers growing all around her house. If she get’s Snowflake to follow her there, the poor little guy won’t stand a chance.” With great trepidation we entered the forest and came upon the witch’s house. There she was, gnarled and bent over, dragging a bleating Snowflake behind her. “STOP!!” the witch shrieked, “I’ll kill him right before your eyes!” Suddenly, Humpty Dumpty appeared out of nowhere and ran up to Snowflake, freeing him from the witch’s clutches. Snatching Humpty, the witch cackled “Fine! Take your precious lamb! I don’t need him. I’ll feast on scrambled eggs all week!” and she disappeared into the dark forest with Humpty. What an act of bravery exhibited by Humpty Dumpty! He was indeed a good egg.
The Elephant's Trunk 