Category Archives: Personal

Night Flight

Sunday Scribbling prompt: Beauty

“If you want to live, give me your hand.”

She crouched where she had fallen, her foot caught by a limb hidden under the snow.
She glared up at him. The dogs barking in the distance sounded closer than they had a few moments ago.

He looked down at her, hand outstretched. “Hurry!”

She reached up and he pulled her up behind him and they took off, him whispering to the horse now and then, urging him on.  She glanced behind and saw lights in the forest and heard the dogs.  They were flying through the trees now and the limbs were slapping her and her hair streaked out behind her as they moved with the wind.  She held him tighter though she was frozen and afraid her arms were too numb to know if they slipped from around his waist.  They sped east through the dusk as the sun was setting behind them.  She peered around him ahead and saw they were headed to a sheer cliff, the face rising high above them.  She could see no way around and he was not slowing his pace at all.  They were going to run into the solid rock!  She screamed at him “Are you insane? You’re going to kill us!” He just laughed and spurred the horse on faster.  “Hold on tight!” he yelled back at her and put his head down.  She laid her head down on his back and prayed. Ceana glanced up just as the horse leapt at the black rock.  She knew she was about to die so she closed her eyes and waited for the crash.

Seconds later they had landed on solid ground on the other side of the rock.  They had moved through it somehow!  Ceana opened her eyes slowly, afraid that she had passed over to the afterlife.  They were now racing along in a sunlit meadow.  The sun was warm and the wind was crisp and clean and She let go of him and held her arms straight out and lifted her face towards the beauty of the  sun.  Ceana was flying.  She laughed with the sheer joy of it.

Conall glanced back at her and knew with his entire soul, she was the one.

Friday Night Lights

Three Word Wednesday Accident, Loyal, Obscene

They were at the next table.  Two couples out for a little Italiano.  The guys?  Forgettable.  Looking like ex-high school football players, already showing the blurry future lines of a middle-aged paunch .  Glory days over, reality setting in, cocky smiles gone.  The girls used to line up waiting to cheer for them as they got off the bus. Cheerleaders and small town princess wanna-be’s hanging on every word they said.

The tables have turned now and the rules have changed. They defer to the ladies.  Tight jeans and Nikes have given way to spike heels and a taste for the expensive.   Khaki Dockers, starched and pressed western shirt, is with the taller brunette.  She has it all together.  Dressed all in black, she flips her hair back and smiles up at the waitress, talking just a little too loud.  Khaki squenches up his eyes just the tiniest bit at the volume. He is trying to be loyal to her but this obnoxious act is wearing thin.

Sunday jeans and cowboy boots is with the tiny one.  She had light brown hair pulled back into a clip, gold dangly earrings, innocent eyes.  He has the big goofy grin like he just can’t believe his good fortune.  She is going out with HIM!  Neither of them are having to say much.  Loud brunette girl is taking care of the conversation which is a relief to him.  Someone should throw a flag on the field for that play.

A lady with frosted big hair finished slurping her spaghetti and stood up to move around to a little keyboard.  She seated herself and thumbed through her music book and started playing Christmas songs, the half time show.

The waitress has seated them and for a moment I was busy with my own meal.  When I looked up  again, they were in the midst of ordering and little quiet girl is sitting with her back to me.  Her dress has a scoop neck back and the skin showing above the neckline is tattooed with angel wings.  I noticed this as I clearly heard her ask the waitress why they do not sell alcohol here. Cowboy boots is still grinning his obscene grin.  The waitress tells her they can bring their own and cowboy boots and khaki pants almost knock one another over trying to get out the door to bring her what she desires.  Crowd roars and horn blows, they’re  going in for a touchdown. Hoping to make the ladies happy. Khaki hoping to shut the brunette up.  Cowboy boots hoping he will get a peek at more than angel wings tonight.

Homecoming queens and kings in a northeast Texas town. The new Friday night lights.

Adventure

Sunday Scribbling #187 prompt: adventure  One Word : clip

heading out
at a pretty good clip
we were young and prepared
so we thought
for the trip
they could bend us
not break us
or crush us
or shake us
we were young and prepared
so we thought
for the trip
but the road just got longer
and going got slower
and young and prepared
wasn’t always enough
the bending got painful
and we moaned and we cried
this ain’t what we paid for
this ain’t the right ride
and we found
that the ground
sometimes hurt
when we landed
we found that the sun
wasn’t always so sunny
we found that the turns
were quite sharp
when we spun out
The ups and downs were
lots higher and lower
and the hills got so steep
and the going got slower
but somehow the slowing
made way for the showing
of scenery that blurred
when we ran headfirst
and the slowing and showing
were the answers to questions
and questions for thinking
and loving and sinking
in sunsets and oceans
and summer deep starlight
in grieving and tears
and warm winter firelight
we finally saw
we finally learned
It’s not where we’re going
It’s all in the journey

Now back to nanowrimo 🙂

Shame On The Girls

Sunday Scribbling prompt: Shame

She peered at the sign on the door to make sure she was in the right place.  Dolores gingerly turned the knob and entered, quietly closing the door behind her.  The waiting room was empty, thank goodness.  She waddled across the burgundy and forest green carpet to the sliding glass window behind which the receptionist sat talking to someone on the phone.  She stood at the window impatiently tapping her foot until the girl glanced up, the beginning of a smile dying before it had a chance to be friendly.

She handed the plastic clipboard and attached pen to the big-haired woman and wondered if she was going to be one of “those”.

Dolores took the clipboard and signed her name with a flourish.  She handed the clipboard back to miss perky thing and sighing, demanded to know if appointments were on time today.  “Yes uh, Mrs. Wasserman” she replied, glancing at the clipboard.

Dolores rolled her eyes and mumbled something about hoping so and turned and minced to the bank of chairs.  She managed to squeeze her corseted derrière into the paisley upholstered seat,  She clutched her Coach bag to her and tried to keep her elbows from touching the arms of the chair.  One never knew what germs might be lurking on the surface in a doctor’s office.  Her dress was dark under her arms as she sweat from the effort of getting to the third floor office.  She would never forgive her sister for making the appointment to see the gynecologist. Sophie couldn’t believe it had been ten years since Dolores had been to the doctor but Dolores saw no point in throwing away good money when there was nothing wrong with her.  Now she was at this horrid place.  It was just as she suspected.  You go to one doctor and the next thing you know they have a hold of your wallet and won’t let go.  Now it was a breast exam. Her ladies doctor had set up the appointment and she was too mortified after that horrible event to say anything never mind ask questions.  She just wrote the check at the desk and took her appointment card and left as quickly as her chubby thighs would move her to the caddy.

Cindy got down a folder and began a new chart for Dolores Wasserman. Usually she liked working for Doctor Peterman and most of the patients were very nice ladies.  Cindy was pretty good at putting them at ease in what many women found to be a very uncomfortable situation.  She had been at this long enough to know that would not be the case with Mrs. Wasserman.  She had told Karen she could leave early since this would be the last appointment of the day.  Karen’s youngest was in middle school and seemed to disagree with the necessity of homework so Karen needed to have a conference with his teachers.  Cindy was half regretting the generous gesture now.  She dreaded handling Mrs; Wassermans’ huge breasts and knew she was going to have trouble getting them between the plastic plates on the mammography machine correctly.  Those big girls were not going to want to cooperate and Mrs. Dolores was not going to be graceful about it, no sir.  Oh well, the chart was made and the last patient signed out so she the sooner she got her back there, the sooner it would be over with and she could finish up reports and go home.  She would have just enough time to change clothes and fix her makeup before Tyler picked her up for the movie.  That thought cheered her up.  Tyler was hot and nice too. Maybe he would get lucky tonight, she thought to herself with a smile.

She got up and waved to Dolores, pointing to the door to the right of the window. Dolores heaved herself up out of the chair and waddled to the door.  She held the knob with a kleenex covered hand and followed Cindy to a room behind the office.  Cindy told her to take off all her clothing above the waist and put on the gown on the shelf in the room.  Dolores peered into the pink room and sniffed.  It looked like a bottle of pepto bismol had been shaken and sprayed all over the room.  It literally dripped pink.  She untied the bow on the front of the silk blouse and shimmied out of it.  Unhooking the straps on her brassiere, she peeled it down and twisted it around so she could get to the hooks and eyes.  She carefully folded it and laid it on the shelf next to the hook where she had hung her blouse.

She eyed the pink flamingo covered gown with disdain as she unfolded the cotton nightmare and wrapped it around herself, struggling with the snaps and ties.  There was no mirror and for once she was relieved.  Dolores was certain the whole disgusting ensemble was anything but flattering.  She clasped her pocketbook to her chest, trying to hide behind it as she slipped out the door, peering both ways.  Cindy was out in the hall waiting for her.  Dolores followed the petite blond to a room near the end of the hall.  Cindy began to explain the procedure to her, but she interrupted her saying that she was not a complete idiot, she had read the pamphlet the doctor gave her, thank you very much and could they just get on with it?

Cindy sighed and helped Dolores position herself in front of the machine.  Dolores angrily undid the ties on the front and scooched up as far as possible.  Even so, it was difficult to get her breast placed on the plate and Cindy had to help smush and push to get it into place.  Dolores huffed and closed her eyes unable to believe the indignity of it all.  They repeated the whole process for the other breast and finally it was done.  Cindy said the doctor would call her at the end of the week with the results and Dolores walked off before she was finished talking.  Dolores hurried to the changing room and put her clothing back on.  She left the stupid gown on the floor and grabbed her purse.  She stopped long enough at the desk to write a check and without so much as a go to hell, turned on her heel and stalked out of the  office.  Cindy could have told her that her dress was tucked into the back of her panty hose but the sight of her large posterior bumping away so mesmerized her that the unpleasant woman was out the door before she could get the words out.  She could barely breath for a moment and then burst out laughing.

She finished up her last charts and went to the back to make sure the plates were hung on the light box for the doctor.  She turned on the light and looked at the images.  Suddenly she wasn’t so excited about going out that night.  She was no radiologist but she had seen enough of these to know that the news for Mrs. Wasserman was not going to be good.

Your Daily Snooze

Unfortunate wording on the front of today’s paper:

___________________________

pnewsbloop

___________________________

sorry, couldn’t help it.  nuff said

The Cheese Stands Alone

Yesterday I was honored to participate in a fund raising walk for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. It was a beautiful day and there was a great turn out. There was moment at the beginning when they had live music and speakers and the chairwoman of the family teams spoke. At her side were several children from her team, one of which was her daughter who had been diagnosed with diabetes two years ago – at the age of three. I had one of those moments where you stop noticing the sound around you and all I was aware of was this precious girl who was grinning and mugging for the jumbotron. I was remembering my children at the age of three and trying to imagine what it would be like to try to explain what was happening to a toddler. If you go to youtube and put jdrf in the search box you will find multiple videos of kiddos and their stories. If you do go there be prepared to have your heart broken and changed. My story below is made up, and I have no statistics for you, but I know that diabetes is on the rise in the country. Every year it seems there are more and more students at school for whom the sticks, dietary restrictions, and insulin administration are a part of their daily routine. I have witnessed the other end of a life lived under the control of this disease. When Dale was on dialysis and I would sit with him sometimes at the center, and most of the patients undergoing treatment were diabetics. Some were obviously sick.  some teased and joked and their spirits overflowed to those around them. Kidney failure, blindness, amputated feet, coronary problems, all related to the disease – all part of their experience.  I got to know other spouses and caregivers. We shared worries, concerns, ideas for feeding our spouses.

Pray for a cure. Pray for the kids. Pray for their families.

*~*~*~*

He stared up into the night sky. If he could only see far enough, the entire cosmos, spread out beyond his imagination, which was formidable, maybe the answers would become clear. For now, all he could do was close his eyes to the tiny lights and shut out all the pain, as if he could or would. His little girl, one minute laughing and full of promise, infinite as those stars, now threatened and having to endure daily pain.

What would her future be? Would she have a future? Was it his fault? Why would God do this to her. He would gladly take it on if it meant she could go back to the life she had just yesterday. His wife was better at this than he was. She cried, but she did it alone in the shower, where Emma wouldn’t see. When she was with Emma, she held her sorrow in and worked every minute to make sure that we were checking her blood glucose levels, that we had the carbs counted and food servings figured out to make adjusting easy. Easy. That was a word that didn’t figure in their vocabulary anymore. Every activity that they did, any trip away from the house, meant being prepared for any eventuality that might present itself.

They had gone to a birthday party that day. Emma had her crackers, and they went to the car for her stick and to do her insulin injection. Later the kids were playing Farmer In The Dell and as the song came to a close, he thought. “The cheese stands alone.” Even in this group of happy children, maybe more so, His Emma was like the cheese. She looked like every other child on the outside. She ran and played and laughed. But under it all, on the inside, she WAS the cheese. She stood alone.

Emma cried at the sticks. Her little eyes would tear up and she would whimper. “No sticks daddy, no sticks!” but she held still and let them stick her anyway as though some part of her was resigned to them hurting her. That look of resignation hurt him more than any screaming she could have done. He drew in a breath and thought sternly “Enough! Suck it up! If she can do it, you can do it. ” He pushed himself off the lawn chair as his wife came out the back door. She too stared at the night sky. Her arm went around him and she laid her head on his shoulder. “Emma is asleep.” she said.

He looked down at her. “Can we do this?” he asked.

She looked up at him and he could read the answer in her eyes. There was no choice. She was our Emma. Insulin is not a cure, but it keeps her alive. We would do whatever it takes until a cure is found.

Amen

Reading One Word At a Time

One Word prompt: paperback

All she wanted was a few moments of peace and a cup of coffee.  Not that fancy, flavored, skinny mocha  latte mochachino crap – just coffee.  She found a seat over in the corner and tiredly pulled her paperback out of her bag.  She opened it and leaned her head on one hand so that her face was partially hidden by the book.  She peeked over the cover at the room.

There were a couple of girls at the next table rattling on about the VMA awards and could you believe they were wearing the same dress?  “Wasn’t he a HAWT-E?  OMG  BFF” until she saw lips moving but heard chipmunk chatter.

A couple sat at a table in the middle and while HE went on and on about some political position that she just couldn’t possibly understand or of course she would agree with him.  Unfortunately visionary that he was, he totally missed his girlfriend flipping him off under the table or the bored yawn as she turned and glanced at me.  She  rolled her eyes.
The kid behind the counter was smiling too big and cheerful as she took orders and money and steamed milk, poured flavor and mashed lids on cardboard yuppie cups, now insulated to stave off litigation from crybaby patrons looking to get rich.

She dropped her eyes back to the book.  The picture on the cover was of some trashy looking girl with tattoos and cleavage, but the story wasn’t half bad.  Werewolves and shapeshifters, fantasy escape from irritating executives and brainless girls in four inch heels that robbed the blood from their heads.

She finished the coffee and stuffed the book back in her bag.  She dropped her cup and napkin in the trash can and thanked a kid with way too many piercings as he held the door for her and she walked to the bus stop.

She grabbed the rail as the door whooshed open and pulled herself up the steps, dropping her tokens in the container.  She found a window seat near the back and caught her reflection in the window as she plopped down on the cracked vinyl.  There were new lines around her eyes and more gray in her hair every day.  Some birthday.

Nissa Meets Simon

One Word prompts yesterday and today: oak and shower

Sunday Scribbling prompt: hunger

Nissa woke to rain dripping off the leaves of the ivy that had grown lovingly around the giant old oak.  She had curled up in the cradle made by roots that had wandered out and down through the cool dirt.  Leaves that had fallen over years and velvety moss had made this a favorite summer spot to daydream.  Daydream and watch the old man work his garden.  She had spent more and more time here lately.  Her mum had changed and while she was never mean, she was just sort of not there.  Nissa couldn’t really put a name on it, she frightened her.  She used to sing while she worked and she would hug Nissa and chase her around the yard laughing, more like a sister than a mother.

These days she just went through the motions.  The house was clean and supper was cooked, but she never smiled or sang and when she wasn’t working she would sit at the table and stare at the fire as though she were waiting for something.  She never spoke unless you asked her a question.  Nissa shivered though the shower that had blown up wasn’t cold.  She sat up and  scooted up closer to the trunk where she could watch the rain but stay dry . The smell of the rain on the dirt, honeysuckle from somewhere nearby, and the wet herbs in the garden filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes and breathed it in.  She felt much better out here, away from the house and her mother and whatever it was that seemed to be hanging over their heads like a dark and heavy cloud.

She heard a door shut and opened her eyes.  The old man was sitting on the porch with a bowl and hunk of bread.  Her mouth started to water and she realized that it had been hours since breakfast. “Are you hungry girl?” said the old man. “There is plenty if you will come sit.”

She hesitated.  She always felt safe and peaceful here and her instincts had never brought her harm.  She liked coming here and if he told her to stay away she would have nowhere else to go.  She weighed all that against her empty belly and stood up and walked to his porch.  “You are Nissa.” He said.  She jerked her head up in surprise.  He had not only known she was there but he knew her name as well!  “I am Simon.”  he said and he held out a bowl of stew to her.  She took the bowl, thanking him and he gestured to a seat and another piece of bread.  She sat down and they ate in silence.  She mopped up the rest of the liquid in her bowl with the last of her bread and sighed in contentment..  Simon handed her his bowl and asked her to set them in the washpan in the house.

She stepped in the room and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust and then they widened in curiosity?  Delight?  She didn’t know where to look first!  There were drawings and stuffed birds, carvings and odd stones of all shapes and colors.  She remembered she was holding the bowls and carefully put them in the tub of water.  She backed towards the door, wishing to explore but not wanting to be rude.  “Who was this Simon?” She wondered.

When she stepped outside, Simon had his eyes closed and his head leaned up against the wall,  The rain had stopped and the sun showed wrinkled skin, translucent and almost glowing from within in the sunlight.  His white hair was long but braided and he smelled like Rosemary.  She sat down in the sun near him and he began to tell her about the plants in his garden.  She had been watching him tend them, trimming some that got too adventuresome and pulling weeds from around others that seemed to prefer their space.  He often hummed and sometimes spoke quietly as he cared for them.

“There is a heartbeat to the earth and if you listen carefully, you will hear it beating in a garden.  The seasons have a rhythm all their own and the earth will speak to you.  Whatever you give, you get back so much more.”  He told of plants that were for healing, plants that made food taste better, and some that were for love and beauty.

“I like the ones you can eat, the best.” Nissa told him.  Simon smiled and said that the earth would feed more than just your belly.   “That may be so,” Nissa said, “but it’s hard to think of anything else if you are hungry.”  She looked away from him as she said it.

“Then you may come to this garden anytime you wish.” Simon said.

“Will you teach me how things grow?” she asked..

“Yes child, but it is work and you have to be willing.” He smiled seeing more than she knew.  Simon saw that she was strong and brave and would not be able to resist a challenge. He had dreamed of a child for the last few nights, and of something dark that she was running from.  He couldn’t see clearly yet, just what it was. He only knew that he must help her and that he had to go slow so that whatever it was would not awaken before he had taught her enough to help him defeat it.

“I can do anything you ask me to do.” she said proudly and maybe a bit defensively.  She had her chin stuck out as though she was daring him to disagree.  Simon just smiled and said “Then I shall see you tomorrow.”  Though she didn’t want to, she squared her shoulders and headed towards her home.  She didn’t want him to know how scared she was of going back to her mother and she was afraid that he would find out that something was wrong there and send her away.  She would show him that she could help.  She would make herself indispensable and then he would never send her away and she would have a place to go, to be, to grow.  She even whistled a bit on the way home.  The sound died on her lips as she reached the house.  She quietly slipped around back and through the window into her room so that she wouldn’t have to see the vacant stare in her mother’s eyes.  She quietly wrapped herself in her quilt and as the sky grew dark, she huddled in the corner of her bed and finally fell into a troubled sleep.

Paris News Lady in the Moon

Star Gazers to seek out ‘Lady in the Moon’

By Connie Beard

Published September 11, 2009

Valley of the Caddo Star Gazers will learn how to recognize the “Woman in the Moon” during the monthly meeting at 8 p.m. Monday, Sept. 14.

Since ancient times, people have looked for images in dark lunar markings that were caused by lava flows. Many people see the man in the moon, but others see a woman when they gaze upon the moon’s features.

“Our Woman in the Moon is a realist looking lady in profile. She is best seen in binoculars or in lunar photographs and, once recognized, she is never forgotten,” said George Leonberger of the Caddo Star Gazers.

A preview of the Woman in the Moon presentation can be seen at http://www.tufts.edu/as/wright_center/personal_pages/george_l/w_in_the_m.html, a Tufts University Web site designed by Valley of the Caddo Star Gazer George Leonberger.

Also during the meeting, members and guests will identify constellations, tell star stories and watch the fall constellations which are starting to rise over the eastern horizon. Weather permitting, Jupiter will be in view. The club’s four Dobsonian telescopes are able to reveal a lot of detail on the planet.

If the night is cloudy, the group will discuss astronomy and check out telescopes to those members who want to use them until the next Star Gazer meeting.

Anyone interested in observing the night sky is welcome to attend.

Valley of the Caddo Star Gazers meet in the E.R.D.O.C. building (former Oliver Rubber Plant), 2305 N.W. Loop 286. This building is inside Loop 286 at the entrance to the exit ramp for Farm Road 79. The building has a “Caring Food Partners” sign on the front.

Nuala?  I rest my case.

The Paris News


Just Thinking Out “Blog”

Last night I posted poem that I just wasn’t feeling and it frustrated me.  The prompt was the word “knot” and I love that prompt.  It has potential, possibility, promise!  But I could not get into the zone, the happy place – the place where it all goes away and the words fall out and sing for me, where I go away.

Right now work has me tied up in knots because the problems come so fast that I don’t have time to stop and think about what I’m doing and I’m brain tired at the end of the day.  I’m left feeling like last night.  There was no zone and things do not have that thing that Robert Pirsig tried to define in “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” – that quality.  Not the kind of Quality that is defined by others perception though I am a comment junkie with the best of them;  I mean a quality where you feel complete with something, anything you have done and you can hold it and look at it and turn it over and yes, there – right there – I am in that and the feeling is good.

Life is a series of those things, moments, relationships with the places inbetween just moments waiting for the quality, zone, REAL ones to be.  Approval from others is nice, it is validating, but if approval from others comes and I don’t have that feeling in myself there is a feeling of cheating – of being a sham.

Sometimes there needs to be a challenge that I can beat.  It doesn’t have to be something huge.  Just one thing to focus on, dive into, complete.  To be able to look back and say something is finished.  That is another source of frustration for me right now.  I am in a season of constant challenge with zero feeling of completion, just moving from one task to another knowing that the line is stretching on beyond any horizon I can see (being a bit melodramatic here) so there is no time to stop and puzzle over the answer.  I have to duct tape it when I prefer to use finer stitches.

I have tried to be in that zone at night, to write something that lets me go THERE and maybe for right now, I need to let it be what it is and just post some thoughts until it comes naturally.  Trying to force it just seems to make the knot tighter and it chafes, makes sparks fly.

Then again, maybe it is just waking up at four in the morning.  It’s Friday and there will be time to ease the strands loose this weekend and the Sunday Scribbling prompt is up – tattoo.  That makes me smile.  Maybe when the knot is untied I can braid it into a story.  For now, I’ll finish my coffee on the back porch and get ready for one more day.

Wanted: One Word

One Word :Wanted

One Word is a simple webpage that displays a single word, different daily.  Click go and type in the box for a minute.  Done.

Wanted? Or needed?  Was there a difference?  Want comes from sight.  Want that pretty bright thing.

Need comes from heart and body,  both requiring sustenance.

She wanted to be more.  She needed to be less.  The two were always at war.

Three Word Wednesday In Pieces

Three Word Wednesday: Fracture, Noise, and Vanish plus Fiction in 58 for good measure

In that one second, that one moment on which everything turns, the view fractured all at once, pieces of glass on the floor.  Careful not to cut your feet. No noise, not a peep, no – not one sound. There is a body. There is always a body. Slip out the back door and vanish before the sweepers come.

A Cage Is Still A Cage

One Word : Cage

I was not free.  Didn’t matter that the cage was of my own making, the walls were solid, impenetrable, and too high to scale.  All that was left was to pretty it up, this prison.  So I painted, and hung curtains, and adjusted the light just right.  Throwing shadows to disguise the no escape, the no door out, no window to let in the honeysuckle wind.

One Word Achoo

One Word prompt: sneeze

The news said to stay at home unless you absolutely had to be out and about.  Well some folks might swallow that garbage but the rest of us have work to do.  I had taken the bus downtown and luckily it had been nearly empty so I was able to get a seat that was apart from anyone who might be carrying the germs.  I had always had a cast iron constitution so I saw no reason why I couldn’t go to the office and take care of business as usual.  I passed the custodian in the hall on my way in.  “Morning, John.” I said.  I turned the doorknob going into my freshly cleaned office and put the coffee on.  I fixed myself a cup and sat down at the computer to answer some email just as I heard John sneeze out in the hall.

Simon Remembers

Sunday Scribbling prompt #177: Adult and One Word Destination

“Simon – run along and play, I’ve work to do,”  Mum brushed a damp strand of hair back from her forehead.  There were good smells coming from the pot on the fire and she was sweeping yesterdays dust out the door.

“Yes mum.” he called as he jumped over her broom laughing and ran out into the sunshine.  He waved at his Da out in the garden as he ran past and headed to the woods.  It was a warm day and the cool shade was beckoning.

He followed the path he had worn through the trees to the creek and tossed stones at turtles sunning on a log as boys will do.  He watched as they left their log and dove into the cool water. He found a great crooked stick and carried it with him, whacking trees and plants as he walked along.  He ventured farther than he usually did, lost in daydreams.

The sound of singing came to his ears and he changed direction to get closer and see where it was coming from.  As he climbed through bushes he saw a place where the sunlight slipped between the leaves and bathed a small clearing in golden light.  A girl sat with a hat of many colors on her head.  He slipped closer, hidden by trees and his eyes widened with wonder.  He started to make the sign to ward off evil but something told him there was no evil here.

What he first thought to be a hat was butterflies of all kinds, covering her hair and back which was turned to him.  Her arms were held out from her sides and sparrows and larks and robins flew in and landed and flew off again, fearless and singing.  Her melody seemed at one with the birds and the light fell all around her like a warm blanket.

He stood very still and silent, just watching.  The girl looked to be about his age, with long brown hair and a flower chain around her neck.  She stopped singing and turned smiling. “Come out boy.” she said.

Simon stepped out from behind his tree and stood staring.  “What is your name?” she asked him.  “I am Simon Brennan.  Who are you?”

“I am called Nuala” she said.  “Come and sit with me, Simon ‘of sorrow’ and the butterflies will cheer you.”

Simon quietly walked over and sat beside her, amazed that the butterflies didn’t leave.  They seemed to sense that she was a safe haven.  “Are those apples, you have in your tunic?” she asked.

Simon had found an apple tree in his ramblings and picked a few and tied them up in his tunic to eat later.  He nodded and took them out.  Polishing one on his britches, he held it out to her.  “Thank you.” she smiled at him again and he felt like her smile was warmer than the sun.  It seemed to light her from the inside and he felt as safe as the butterflies.  They sat and shared apples and told each other many things.

“Are you Sidth?” Simon asked her.  He had heard stories of Faeries but had never really believed in them,.  At least til now.  He would have believed anything of her.  “No,” she laughed. “I’m as human as you, Simon.”

“Then how do you call the creatures to you and they have no fear?”  He asked.  She told him that you have to be as quiet in your heart and let the magic of the world come through.  He didn’t really understand but it didn’t matter.  He would listen as long as she would speak.

Simon and Nuala met most days for the rest of that summer.  It was the last summer they would truly be children as trouble and adulthood would soon come to them in the valley.  For these days, at least, sunshine, apples, and the beginnings of true love carried them through the season.

As Simon woke from the dream, he felt again the fullness of heart that had been his as a young man.  No matter the destination and the sadness that eventually came to pass, he would never regret those days for they had brought him Nuala and the love that had lasted throughout his life, from that forest all the way to the moon and back.

One Word: Pastime

One Word and Fiction in 58

They sat on the dock , shoes off, feet in the water.  He would look away  and kick the water so some would splash.  She would yell, smack him and in a moment, do the same thing.  The sun was shining and they didn’t care.  They were just passing the time.  Everything was fine until the body floated by.

Simon Tells A Tale

Totally Optional Prompts offered color for inspiration and it had been sitting in the back of my mind for a couple of days and Sunday Scribblings prompt is New in honor of Laini who is anxiously awaiting the birth of her baby. One Word Prompt: Geese

Simon was slowly regaining his health.  Word had spread in the valley that he had returned and soon folks would “pass by” to get a glimpse.  As he got stronger he would take his staff and wander around his house in the afternoon sun.  He would rest when he was tired and as he sat on a bench in front of his house the children came and sat around him and begged for stories.

“Shh” he said with his finger to his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.  “If you get still I will tell you how our valley came to be so beautiful”.  The children scooted up closer and waited expectantly.

Once a beautiful lady lived in a house at the end of the lane.  She had magic that caused animals to be friendly and she loved this valley more than anything.  One day, he began…

“Tsk Tsk, this will never do.” she said as she stepped out on the porch.  The vista before her was all black and white and gun metal gray.  She picked up her box of supplies and walked into the scene.  On one side of her walked a lion and on the other a lamb.

She reached into the box and drew out her favorite brushes and began to paint.  She took blue and white and mixed the perfect shade of sky and  using wide strokes, applied light and air and wispy swirls of cloud. She took a tiny detail brush and with just a few flicks, birds wheeled and twirled.  “That’s better.” she thought.  Fine lines in the distance and suddenly geese flew in formation. The lion swished his tail and she nodded and smiled, “you’re right, we need to plan for morning and night.” and she added bright orange and deep rose in the west for the sunset to find and midnight blue so the night would have a place to hang the moon and stars. Lavender and pink blended in the east to invite the sun to rise.

The lamb nudged her with it’s nose and she nodded in agreement. She dipped her fan brush in the forest green and painted in towering pines, dabbing with black and gold for shadow and light, little brown pine cones to finish them off.  Now for some oaks and elms.  Bushes and shrubs and grasses to cover the earth and give the smaller animals something to nibble on.  She looked around at her work and was happy.

She took browns and golds and reds and gave the dreary houses clothing that warmed them and made yellow light to spill out of windows with blue curtains waving in the breeze.

“That’s so much better.” she told the lion and  lamb.  One last thing to be done.  She took her pen and drew loving and peaceful words over the first house and an angry argument ended.  Lullaby lyrics written into the next house and a fussy babe slept.  A poem from the street and the an artist sitting at his desk began to write.

She turned and as she wandered back to her home she sang softly and tree branches sighed in the wind, birds sang, and insects spoke of the changing seasons.  Her supply box was lighter and so was her step.  She reached her porch and set the box down and settled into her rocking chair.  Her friends curled on the porch at her feet, sleeping peacefully.  The gray was still there, but love had painted over it with beauty and the world was new with magic.

She grew sleepy and as she dozed, the shadows grew longer and night fell.  The darkness was so jealous of the colors she brought that it locked her in the moon and that’s where she lives to this day.

The children all clapped and didn’t notice the sadness in Simon’s eyes when he finished the tale.  “Go home children, your mothers will be calling you for supper.” he told them and stiffly got to his feet.  The children wandered home calling out goodbyes as they went.  They would look out their windows in wonder that night.  They would dream of a beautiful woman looking down on them smiling over her valley.

One Word Changes :Planet

One word prompt: planet

Okay – I started this and wanted to keep going past the minute time that the website gives you.  Since I’m queen of this little corner of the blogosphere, I decreed that I could have as much time as I wanted.  🙂

She leaned on her cane and slowly followed the signs that said disembark.  The hall wasn’t that long.  Her kids were all grown and had their own families.  Her husband had passed away years ago. There was no one to actually miss her. The one requirement was that she would have to remain here.  The process would revert if she went back to earth.  She said her goodbyes and headed off planet.  She had sold her house and stocks and bought the whole package.  She was sixty five but soon she would be young again.  The white clad attendant at the end of the hall directed her to the Fountain Of Youth salon.  The brochure said there would be no pain and she was more than ready.

She was directed to a changing room where she put on the tissue paper robe.  When she came out the table was ready.  They helped her up and she laid down.  The pillow was fluffed, the lights lowered, and her favorite music was playing softly. Some sort of candle or incense was burning and it smelled of cinnamon. She closed her eyes and felt all the old aches and pains that age and arthritis had given her and thought about all it had taken from her.

That was all about to change. She would wake up healthy, with shiny hair and flawless skin.  Young and better than she had been when she actually was twenty. No more glasses, her eyesight would be clear and she would be able to wear heels and a bathing suit and she would take better care of everything this time around. She would have, well, her whole life in front of her.  A do-over, the kids would call it.

She slowly came to consciousness.  She stretched but nothing felt the same.  Her legs felt bigger.  Her shoulders too.  Her hair was short?  What was going on?  She felt a little panicky.  She started to sit up as she opened her eyes.  A smiling attendant reassured her that she was alright.  There had been a slight glitch in the program though.  She was strong and healthy – nothing to worry about there.  “How did she feel about the name Mark instead of Mary?” He asked.