Music…a short story.

did you know
that all music
originated from a jukebox
in the sky
the basics
were played to the masses
who then falsely believed
that they came up with
with the sounds themselves
music wasn’t a gift
it was something to keep our species
busy
something
to calm us
help us navigate
through the mess
we were dropped into
it was simply added
to see what we would do
with it
like all experiments
someone
or some thing
somewhere
is writing down
their findings

 

Picture:  Pixabay

It’s that time of year…a very short story

She can show up
at any time
her voice
soft and seductive
urging you to
follow her
promising to make
your dreams
come true
her words
dance in your mind
making more sense
as she speaks
drawing you in
leading you
into the darkness
a darkness
from which
there is no return

 

Photo:  Oscar Millán
Pexels

Daisy…a very short story

Daisy
is a Master chess player
people come from everywhere
to play against her
thinking they can win
but she’s never lost a game
she’s good at noticing
a person’s tell immediately
and she’s highly intelligent
sometimes she naps
between moves
because her opponents
take so much time
trying to figure out how
she’s beating them
they simply can’t believe
that a cat is smarter
than they are
that’s partly why they lose

 

Photo:  Pixabay

The mail room…a very short story.

George was in charge of the mail room.  He loved his job, but did admit that at times, it wasn’t easy.  Fairies were notoriously late for…well, everything…and don’t even think about how Brownies and Goblins were after they had been out drinking the night before the morning after.

While the mice and rats played an important part in the mail room, they had to be watched closely when they were anywhere near paper.  More books than one could possibly imagine, had been chewed and made into nests.  Because of their love of papyrus, the mice and rats mostly worked where metal was involved.  Given enough cheese breaks, they were competent and jolly employees.

Since this is the only postoffice that caters to the needs of the magical world, the mail can often be quite, uh, interesting.  On more than one occasion, postal workers have been eaten by something that was simply being sent from one place to another, which definitely kept everyone on their toes.

But truth be told, the work was never boring, and the cubby holes were rather beautiful to look at, so all in all, the mail room wasn’t a bad place to spend one’s time, assuming that dragon eggs weren’t involved, of course.

 

Photo:  Sindre Aalberg
Unsplash

 

The sheep…a very short story

The sheep gathered in their usual spot for movie Monday.  Nina, Carol, Nancy, Bette, Tommy, Josey and Irena, all baaaaaaaaed at the appropriate moments, and flapped their ears when something was funny.

The farmer loved her sheep, and did everything she could to entertain them and keep them happy.  She tried to find films where sheep were the heroes, but there weren’t manny of them.  That’s when she came up with the idea of making action films, using sheep as the stars.  She’s going to talk to the sheep and see what they think about the idea.   She said she’ll let us know what they say.

 

Photo: Pixabay

A mom’s love…

“Don’t forget the flea powder.”

“Mom, for the thousandth time, I DON’T need flea powder.”

“I know darling, it’s just in case.  I mean you are going to be in the woods.”

“I’m not bringing it.  Everyone would laugh at me and think I was weird.”

“Okay, Sweetie.  You have a wonderful time.  Don’t eat anything that will make you sick.  Remember the last time.”

“I’ll be more careful.”

“I put some surprises in your back pack and an extra pair of shorts and sweatpants, along with a hoodie, or sweatshirt jacket, whatever you call them nowadays, in your duffle bag.”

“I packed enough clothes, but thank you.”

“Take pictures when you get there, if you can.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Am I being too protective?”

“Yes, you are, but it’s okay.  I understand.  Just take it down a notch.  I’ll be fine.  Besides, David and Cory are going, so we’ll all be together.”

“It’s only your second time.”

“I’ve been out with you and with dad, I’m good at what I do.”

“I know you are.  I put sandwiches in your duffle bag, as well. For you and the others.  You’re growing boys and I know how hungry you all get.”

He nodded.  “We all do, so I’m sure we’ll be happy to have them.”

“Cory’s mother is dropping the three of you off and I’ll pick everyone up in three days.”

“Yes.  I know.”

“So, have fun and remember that you are loved.”

“I will, and I know.”

His mother laughed.  “You be a good werewolf, and run faster than the others.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will.  Howl as loud as you like, and tell the boys I said, no fighting to the death.”

“They already know that.  We wouldn’t be going if the club didn’t have rules.”

“Of course.”

“There’s the car.  See you in three days,” he said, giving her a quick hug.

“Enjoy your transformation, Baby.”

“I will.”

His father walked into the kitchen and said, “Have fun, son.”

“Our little cub is growing up,” sighed his mother

“He is.   One day, I hope he’ll take my place as Alpha.”

She bit her lip.  “Think he’ll be strong enough?”

He smiled.  “Most definitely.  Feel like a run?”

She slipped out of her dress, shook out her fun, and took off.

 

 

A very short story about sleepless nights…

“MOM!  I can’t sleep,” he yelled from his bed.

His mother walked into the room.  “Do you have your earplugs in?”

He shook his head.”

“You know you can’t sleep without them.  Just put them in and read your book for a few minutes, and you’ll be asleep in no time.”

“Why do they have to be so loud?”

“It’s just the way dinosaurs are, sweetie.  You know that.”

“Fine,” he said, putting his earplugs in.  “But I don’t know why they have to fight right outside our window every night.”

“Neither do I, but I’m not going to be the one to tell them to leave,” she snickered.

He smiled, and pulled up the covers.  “I wonder what it’s like not living with dinosaurs?”

“No idea,” she said, kissing his forehead.  “Sweet dreams.”

 

Photo: Stephen Leonardi
Unsplash

 

A very short story about a lamb and life in general.

“Yes,” said the lamb.  “I know a girl named Mary.”

“Do you follow her to school each day?” asked the man.

“Why would I do that?”

“I thought lambs followed Mary to school.”

“I don’t. The school’s right over there,” said the lamb, looking across the street. “I’ve never seen lambs at the school.”

“So you aren’t the lamb in the nursery rhyme?”

“What nursery rhyme?”

“The one about Mary and her little lamb.”

“I’m unfamiliar with that rhyme,” sighed the lamb, “and I’m busy, so what do you want?”

“I just thought…” stammered the man.

“I think you should go away,” said the lamb, “or I’ll call my mom and dad.”

“I thought lambs were nice.”

“We know humans are deadly.”

“Not all of us,” he said.

“BAAAAAAAAAAAH  BAAAAAAAH,” wailed the lamb.

The man turned and ran, as two huge sheep quickly made their way toward him.

Life’s like that, you know.  We don’t really know which lamb the rhyme was written about, and we never know which humans are deadly, until it’s too late.

 

 

Photo:  Jessica Fadel
Unsplash

 

 

 

Wings…a very short story.

“Put them away,” whispered the boy, quickly looking around.  “You’re supposed to keep them hidden.”

“I don’t care,” she said.  “They need to breath, once in awhile.  Besides, people aren’t looking, and even if they were, no one would see them.”

“You’re still not supposed to take your wings out when you’re on earth.”

“But it feels so good to stretch them,” she sighed.  “I don’t see how it hurts anything.”

“What if you get caught?”

“What if I do,” she said, angrily.  “They’re my wings and I should be able to do whatever I want to do with them.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way.”

“Who said it doesn’t?  Aren’t you sick of following rules made up by others?  I am, and I’m not going to do it any longer.  I don’t want to be controlled and live according to what someone else wants.”

“They’ll erase you,” he said.  “For good.”

“They have to catch me first.”

“They will.  They always do.”

“Not always,” she said.

“Don’t kill too many humans in one place,” he warned.  “They’ll look for that.”

“I’m not stupid,” she said.  “Of course I won’t.”

“I hope I see you again sometime, but….”

“I’ll miss you too,” she said, softly.  “Be careful, and be strong.”

He nodded, and disappeared.

She sat on the floor of the bus, closed her eyes, and breathed in the sweet smell of blood, running through the living bodies sitting in the seats behind her.

 

 

Photo:  Anastasiia Shevchenko
Pexels

 

 

 

 

 

 

The bike…a very short story.

The bike simply appeared.  She looked at it, and knew that her life would never be the same.  She pulled on her gloves, threw her leg over the seat, and listened to the motor rumble its eagerness to be off.

Ten year later, she was still on the road.  Never staying anywhere, always headed for someplace else, because the only thing that mattered…was the road.

 

Photo:  Artem Beliaikin
Pexels