Art and the philosophy of life

Posts tagged ‘Short story’

A short story about a car crash…and life and death.

Free A Broken Windshield of a Car Stock Photo

“Wow.  I don’t think that guy’s gonna make it,” he said, looking at the guy laying in the street.  “He looks pretty bad.”

The man next to him nodded.  “I agree.  He doesn’t look good.”

“Whenever I see something like this, I always feel bad for the person’s family and friends.  It has to be a terrible shock.”

“Feeling bad only happens on this side.  When you leave here, you don’t think about those things because you know that this life is just an illusion.  People come here to learn what they want to learn.  When they’re here they don’t remember that they planned their trip, picked their parents, and came here to do what they wanted to do.  Forgetting is part of the game.  But once you know none of this is real, like you do now, life gets a lot easier.”

Life is an illusion?”

“It is.  People don’t actually die, they simply become pure consciousness.  That’s what we are, pure consciousness, energy.  People are still themselves when they die.  Then they make a new plan and reincarnate into a new body.  Consciousness always was and always will be, so everyone is eternal.”

“I think you’re crazy,” he said.  “And I don’t believe that guy’s going to wake up.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Right there,” he said, pointing to the mangled auto.  “Wait.  That can’t be my car.”

“Take your time,” said the man next to him.  “Then again, maybe you better hurry up, since they are loading you into the ambulance.”

“That’s me?”

“It is.”

“That’s how I look?”

“it is.”

“I thought I was bigger.”

“No one can really see themselves.”

“If I’m over there, then how am I standing here talking to you?”

“You need to follow your body.  There’s still time and you might be able to choose.”

“Am I dead?”

“At the moment.”

“What’s happening?”

“You’ll see.  You’re going to meet people who can help you.”


“Good luck.”


And then he was floating above his body in the ambulance, watching the paramedics work on him and telling someone on the phone, that they were bringing him in.”



Photo:  Artyom Kulakov

Pigeons…a short story.

“What do you think is wrong with them?” he asked, watching people rush back and forth.

“They spend all their time on the ground, Love.”

“That has to be hard,” he said, bobbing up and down.  “A kind of prison.”

“I was thinking.  Maybe we should fly to a warmer place this winter.”

“Leave Chicago?  How can we do that?  We’re Chicago pigeons.”

“We can be pigeons anywhere, Sweetie.”

“Leave the city?” he asked, looking around.  “I was born here.”

“So was I, but we can fly to another city, where winter doesn’t exist.”

He walked along the metal bar, thinking.  “Can we go where there are sky scrappers?”

“Yes, although they might not be as tall as these.”

“How tall?”

“I don’t know, but we can always come back, if we aren’t happy someplace else.”

“Someone just dropped the top of a bun over there,” he cooed.

The birds took off and pulled the bread into the bushes.

“Everyone will know we’re from Chicago,” she said, before taking another beak full of bread.


“Our attitude, silly,” she said.  “Well, that and our accent.”

“We have an accent?”

“Of course we do.  Surely you know that.”

He did a little happy dance around the bread that was still on the ground.  She moved to his rhythm.

“As long as we can take part of Chicago with us, I’m wiling to try.”

And the matter was settled.  They finished the bread, found a few chips and a piece of cheese, then flew over to the lake and watched the waves hit the rocks.

“I love it here,” he said, touching her wing.

“I do too, but we can come back when winter is over.”

“So we will be SNOWBIRDS,” he laughed.  “Real ones.”

“Yes,” she snickered.  “Real ones.”



Photo:  Muhammad Murtaza Ghani




Dinner, roommates, and a chat…a short story

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“I’m in love with Keanu Reeves, or maybe Ryan Reynolds.”

“Everyone is in love with those two, men and women alike.  Take a number.”

“I guess it’s just not meant to be.”

“Seriously?  Did you ever think it was meant to be?”

“Not really.  Maybe.  No, of course not.”

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“Hey, I can have my dreams.”

“As long as you know that’s what they are.”

“How about…”

“NO.  Actors are a no.  Don’t give me anymore names, and no characters from your magical books either.”

“Fine,” she sighed.  “It’s just that…”

“Don’t want to hear it,” she said, holding up her hand.  “Concentrate on the men who are alive and in your life.”

“But they’re real.”

“Sadly, that’s true.  You always want fantasy.”

“It’s less work.”

“I can’t argue with that,” she said, nodding.  “What about Dave?””

“What about him?”

“You two make a great pair.”

“Pair of what?”

“Never mind.”

“Fantasy gives me everything I want and then some.”

“It gives you alone time, end of the world apocalypses, and time to talk to the cat.”

“I know,” she said, smiling.  “I love those things.”

“Why don’t you like people?  Do you want olives on your salad?”

“Yes, please.  And it’s not that I don’t like people, it’s that people interrupt my life.  They want me to listen to them and then say things back to them, when I just want to think and write stories and…”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yes.  You’re…a hermit.”

“Hermits are good.”

“Hermits don’t live in the middle of a city.  They live in the mountains in caves where they wear bath towels and sit with their eyes closed until they die.”

“I’m a different kind of hermit.”

“Shredded cheese?”

“Yum, and I’d feel safe with Keanu, and I’d never stop laughing with Ryan.”

“I’ve told you a million times, those are the roles they play, it’s not who they are.  Do you think Keanu goes around killing a million people a day?  Do you think he’s Nemo? Do you think Ryan is a real bodyguard, or wears a full red body suit?”

“Of course not.  And it’s NEO, not Nemo. Nemo is a fish.”


“You’re right.  I know you’re right.”

“Are you flying tonight?”

“I think so.  It looks nice outside.  Wanna come with?”

“Sure,” she said.  “Let’s eat, then grab our brooms.”

“Sounds like a plan, and this salad is delicious.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, and I’m in love with Antonio Banderas,” she giggled.

“I know, I just didn’t want to say anything.”



A Short story about fangs…

“Hi.  I’m a vampire,” he said

“Really,” she muttered, looking him over.

“Yes.  Really.”

“Let me see your fangs.”

“Right here?  In line in the deli?  I just came in for a coffee cake.”

You’re the one who told me you’re a vampire.”

“I just didn’t want you to freak out if you picked up my vibe.”

“Your vibe?” she said.  “What vibe?”

“My vampire vibe,” he whispered.  “I thought you might, you know,” he gestured with his hands, “feel that I was a little different.”

“Different than what?”

“Different than a human, of course.”

“Are you a new vampire?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You seem new.”

“I do?”

“Like you’ve only been one since the day before yesterday.”

“Two years, actually.”

“You eat coffeecake?”

“Yes, why shouldn’t I?”

“I thought vampires only drank blood.”

“Myth.  We eat just like everyone else, but we need blood to live, so we drink it.  We have a standing order with the Blood Bank down the street, but blood from there is not the same as when you’re drinking it from a huma….  Never mind.  But yes we eat food.”

“I’m just gonna let that one go.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure,” she said.

“My name is Nick.”

“Nick, the vampire,” she said.  “What about sunlight?

“Myth.  Made up so that you don’t recognize us when we’re out during the day.  Makes it easy for us to move around, since you only expect to see us when it’s dark.”

“What kind of coffeecake are you getting?”

“Chocolate chip, with nuts.  How about you?  What are you getting?”

“I don’t know yet.  I have to wait until I get to the counter to decide.  Are you undead?”

“Uh, maybe.  But I’m alive too, so I guess I don’t really know what I am.”

“Were you born a vampire?”

“I wish.  The Born get a lot of perks.”

“The Born?”

“The Born as opposed to the Made.  I just graduated from high school and went out with my friends and after that I don’t remember much until I woke up laying on the grass in the park.  Some guy told me to come with him and I did.  Now I’m in line waiting for coffee cake.”

“What about your parents?”

“You mean don’t they wonder where I went?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“I call them now and then.  They think I moved to a different city and have a good job.”


“People believe what they want to believe.”

“I guess.”

“That’s not exactly within the rules, so don’t tell anyone.”


“Well, you’re next.  If you want we can have coffee together.”

“I have to go to work.”


“Thats me,” she said, stepping up to the counter.

She placed her order and moved to the side.  He smiled at her and said maybe he’d see her again some time.  She said, “Maybe.”

She looked at him again, standing there in his Janis Joplin T-shirt and torn jeans.  His black hair was messy, in just the right way, and he had a great smile and dark eyes with thick black lashes that brushed his very white skin.

“I’ll meet you out in front,” she said.

He grinned at her, and ordered his coffee cake.





statue of woman

“Listen, daughter mine,” said the woman.  “This is the Goddess.  She has many names, and faces.  She is me, She is you, She is Nature, She life.  She is all that is, and more.  Every single person who has ever lived, came from a woman.”

“Even grandpa?”

“Yes, even him.”

“I didn’t know he had a mother,” said the little girl.

“Everyone person has, or had, a mother, and every mother is a woman.  But men don’t respect the Goddess.  They don’t respect women.  They fear Her and us.  You have to know this, daughter.  You have to be careful.”

“What about daddy and grandpa?”

“They do not fight for us, or with us.  They love us, but they are men.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you will always be on your own. You have to be strong and learn how to fight.”

“But they’re really big.”

“They use their size against us, like all bullies do.  I will protect you to the best of my ability and I’ll teach you how to defend yourself.”

“We had a bully in school and Sandra beat him up.”

“Good for her.”

“She got a lot of detentions and nothing happened to him, even though he knocked Kathy down, kicked her, and called her names.  We all saw it, and we all told the teacher, but they didn’t even call his parents.  He had to go to the nurses office because his lip was bleeding and he was crying like a baby.  Kathy didn’t cry.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.  The world you will grow up in is not fair.  It’s set up against you just because you’re a girl, and no matter how old you live to be, the world will never treat you fairly.”

“Why?  I didn’t do anything wrong.  Neither did Kathy or Sandra.”

“You don’t have to do anything wrong.  You will always be blamed for what boys and men do to you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No.  It’s not.  It’s hateful and evil.”

“Maybe we should get rid of daddy and grandpa.”


“Why doesn’t the Goddess help us?”

“She’s an idea.  It’s up to us to make Her real.”

“I’ll draw a picture of Her.”

“Great idea.”

“You wear her on a necklace.”

“I do.”


“To remind me of how angry I am.   And so I never forget to love the rage I hold in my heart against this place.”

“I’m not having any babies.”

“I’ll remind you of that when you’re older.”

“Okay, cuz I might forget.”

“You’ll think you changed your mind but you really won’t.  Your body can betray you.”


“Hormones, baby.  We are animals, after all.  We have to fight them all the time.”

“Is it okay to love daddy and grandpa?”

“Yes, they would both die for you.  Unfortunately, they won’t attend a demonstration for you, walk a picket line, or do anything else, but they would be willing to kill another male if they had to.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I.”

“Can we get ice cream?”

“Sure.  I thought you’d never ask.”


“No, I’m just teasing you.”

“We can hang the picture I’m going to draw on the refrigerator.”


“What’s the name of the Goddess you’re wearing today?”

“This is Medusa, baby.  She went away from the world of men, but they hunted her anyway. She bothered no one, and they hated her and went after her because she was a woman and because she had power.  It’s the way of things on this planet.  Medusa never lets me forget what it’s like to live here.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yes.  She is.”

“Will you get a necklace like that for me?”

“It’s at home.  I was just waiting for you to ask for it.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.  I’m gonna beat them.”

“I’ll help you, baby.  So will all my friends.”

“Will that be enough to win?”

“I’d like to think so, but they might just kill all of us.”

“That would be better than not fighting back.”

“It would be.”

“We should get matching t-shirts.”

“Great idea.  We can have your drawing put on the front.”

“We can get them for your friends as well.”

“Yes, we can.”

“I want chocolate.”

“Me too.”

“I’m so glad I chose you for my mother.”

“So am I, baby.  So am I.”



Photo:  Maniraj Madishetty






A story…not sure where this story is going, or if it is…

I moved through the day, just like I did every other day, watching the faces of the adults around me.  Faces with expressions that didn’t always match their words.  I had stopped asking questions, since they were never answered, or at least not truthfully.  I was only six, but I certainly knew when someone was lying to me.

My father was rarely there and when he was, he really wasn’t.  My mother was an artist, lost in a world of her own making, having once told me that the real world was far too terrible a place in which to exist, so she had to make up a new world, one that was all her own, and that someday, she hoped that I would understand. I hoped I would understand too, I just wasn’t sure when someday was.  Music always poured from her sunny, glass room, while she wrote poetry, painted, and made up stories.  Whenever my mother hugged me, she smelled like turpentine and roses which, of course, smelled like the finest perfume to me.

Nina, the cook, was mostly silent and always busy, but she did give me cookies and cake, whenever I went to see her.  She even smiled, once in awhile.

Nook, cleaned and managed the house.  I don’t know what would have happened to us, if she hadn’t been there.  She was also very busy, but told great stories, while she made the beds and dusted things.  She had two younger sisters and said that she knew what six-year girls were like, and that she didn’t mind that I trailed after her.

Until the age of five, a woman took care of me.  Her name was Mrs. Dean.  I was happy when she told my mother that I was old enough to take care of myself, and that little girls like me, would end up a sorry lot.  I didn’t know what she meant, since I didn’t know what a ‘lot’ was, or why she thought I would end up like one,  but I did know that we didn’t like each other.  She said I was wild and untamable, that I should live in the forest with the animals and that I would never become a real lady.  My mother told her that all of those traits were wonderful. After that, I thought of running away to live in the woods, but I was only five, at the time, and didn’t think it was such a good idea, so I stayed where I was.  Looking back, I know I made the right decision.

We weren’t poor, and if my mother had ‘fit in‘ with the other ladies, we might have been known for something other than being flighty, or strange.  My mother told me that my father didn’t care what people said.  He loved us with a passion and all he ever cared about was us.  She said that while he was standing next to her, and he looked at me and said, “That’s the truth.  I don’t care about anything but you two.”  I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked at them.  They smiled at me and walked away, holding hands.

When kids are little, they think everyone is growing up the same way they are, with the same things, and the same kind of parents.  I learned that wasn’t the case when I made my first friend.  Once I met him, I found out just how different all of our lives truly were.

Until I met Jake, I never told anyone about the misty man who sat on the couch in the living room.  No one ever brought him up, so I just kept quiet.  The man smiled and waved at me, whenever I walked by, but then he went back to reading the newspaper.  I didn’t speak to him, and he seemed happy to just sit there, but I knew he probably shouldn’t have been there.  Unless he was.  I didn’t really know, at the time.  Kids don’t know a lot of things, but they don’t always know how to ask the right questions to get the answers they need.  Sometimes the answers they do get, don’t make any sense, anyway.  So the misty man sat there, and that was that.

Jake said he never told anyone about the misty dog in his backyard, either.  He didn’t think anyone would believe him, and he couldn’t prove the dog was there, since no one ever said anything about him.  He said when the dog first came around, he tried to feed him, but he never ate anything.  I told him that maybe they were both ghosts and ghosts might not be able to eat, since they didn’t have stomachs any longer.  We thought about that for awhile, and then he said he named the dog Toby and he was a really nice dog.  Then his mother made us sandwiches and we talked about other things.



The unicorn and the rabbit…

“Are you a unicorn?”

“I am,” said the unicorn. “And what are you?”

“I’m a rabbit.  You can tell by the way I look.  Ears, fuzzy tail.  I’m soft and very good at hopping.”

“I am unfamiliar wth rabbits.  I just stopped by your planet for a few minutes, but I can see your ears and fuzzy tail.   And you do look very soft.”

“Where are you from?” asked the rabbit, nibbling on a blade of grass.

“A place where unicorns live.  We are very happy and no one hunts us.”

“Really?” said the rabbit, obviously astonished.  “No one hunts you?”

“No.  There are no humans where I come from.  We are all safe and free. ”

“Safe and free,” sighed the rabbit.  “People eat us.  They wear us.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Unicorn.  “This is a terrible place.  That’s why unicorns don’t live here.”

The rabbit nodded.  “Can you take all the rabbits with you, when you leave?”

“I wish I could, but that is not possible.”

“Are you sure?” asked the rabbit, hopefully.

The unicorn, nuzzled the rabbits neck.  “I’m sure, my little friend.  A lot of beings don’t live here because of the humans.”

“I don’t know why they kill all of us.”

“No one does,” said the unicorn.  “They seem to enjoy killing.”

The rabbit, rubbed at his eyes, with his paws.

“I wish I could take all the animals away from here,” said the unicorn. “I would, if I could.  Humans don’t deserve to live with all of your beauty, kindness, and joy.”

“We aren’t joyful,” said the rabbit.  “We’re afraid.”

“As well you should be,” grunted the unicorn.  “None of you are safe.”

“We don’t know why they hate us.”

“They have no hearts.  Instead they have egos where their hearts should be, little one.  They believe they have the right to kill and destroy everything.  They don’t know love, or happiness, just weak shadows of those things.  That’s why we all stay away from this place.”

“Why did you come here?”

“To see if anything has changed from the last time one of us visited.”


“Things are worse, dear rabbit.  “Much worse.  Your wars never end, and the cruelty toward the people and others has intensified, as has the destruction of the earth itself.  People die from poisoned air and the planet shudders from the never ending pounding it takes.  Humans do not walk gently upon the earth, and they respect nothing, including themselves.  Where I come from, the air is clean, the water sparkling.  There is respect for others, and kindness is everywhere.”

“And there are no humans?  Not even one?”

“We couldn’t have what we have if even one existed.  But I must go, rabbit.  It was very nice meeting you. I hope you remain safe and well.  I shall not forget you.”

“Goodbye,” said the rabbit.  “I will remember you as well.  May the Rabbit Goddess protect you on your journey.”

Stars fell over the rabbit as he turned and went on his way.


Hitman…chapter 2

It was dark when Terry finally opened his eyes.  He reached for the alarm clock, knocking several things off the nightstand, before he remembered that that the clock was on the floor, along with his phone.

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.  The water stain in the corner seemed bigger, and there was  cobweb floating lazily in the air he had disturbed when he flipped over.

“This is no way to live,” he said to the empty room.  Then he stretched, and threw his legs over the side of the bed, angering the guy who was inside his head, hitting his brain with a hammer.  He made his way to the bathroom where he showered, saved, brushed his teeth and dressed in jeans and an Aerosmith t-shirt, that brought back a lot of great memories.

Then he walked into the living room, on his way to the kitchen, the two rooms divided by a counter top and three stools, and stopped.  She was sitting on the couch, reading one of the files Mile had delivered yesterday.

He pulled the gun from the small of his back and said, “Who the hell are you?”

“Do you want me to put my hands up?” she asked sweetly.

“Tell me who you are, why you’re here, or it will no longer be an issue.”

“I’m Sally Long, and according to this file, you’re supposed to kill me.”

“What’d you do?”

“Wrong place at the wrong tine,” she said.  “You know how that goes.”

He lowered the gun.  “What do you want?”

“I want you not to kill me, of course.”

“If I don’t do it, someone else will,” said Terry, “and that person might be as nice as I am.  How’d you get in here?”

“I’m good with locks,” she said, running her fingers through her short hair.

“What else are you good with?”

“Knives and…men.”

He laughed, and put two steaming hot mugs of coffee onto the coffee table.

“Thank you, and it’s nice to see the table used for what it was actually made for,” she said.

“Hope you like it black.”

She nodded.

“What did you see?” he asked, leaning back, taking a sip from his mug.

“I saw Two Hands Lazar kill Mickey Jenkens in the back room of Hell’s Garden.”

“What did the file say?” he asked, looking at the folder on her lap.

“You haven’t read it?”

“I was busy.”

“It said to disappear me.  Or erase me, or just knock me off, I guess.  Not a lot of details and the picture they used is four years old.  I was wondering if you’re rather kill Lazar and let me walk.  I didn’t run away, or try to hide, because I know your reputation.  That’s why I came here.  I wanted to talk to you and tell you what happened, so you could get to know me better and see that I’m not a threat.”

“As long as you’re above ground, you’ll be a threat to Lazar.”

“Well, not if he’s dead, right?  Oh, and I made some corrections to the information in the file.  My phone number has changed and I don’t live on Maple Street any longer.”


“Sure,” she said, pleasantly.

“Now what?”

“I was thinking,” she said, taking a sip of coffee.  “maybe, I could stay here, with you.  No one would ever think of looking for me in your place.  I could…clean up a bit and make some changes.  It wouldn’t be forever, just until things calm down.  I already got rid of my apartment and my car. My cat is in the carrier by the door.”

“You’re serious?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?  Really?  Just like that?  Okay?”

“Sure, why not.  If you drive me crazy, or things change, I can always kill you later.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you in your sleep?”

“No, because as I said, the next guy who comes for you, won’t be half as nice as I am.”

“Deal,” she said, holding out her hand.  “The couch is mine.”


The cat meowed and she got up and let him out of his carrier.  “His name is Whisper, because his meow’s are very soft.”

The cat walked up to Terry then jumped onto his lap and curled up.


Hitman…chapter one.

The alarm clock hit the wall and fell to the floor. Terry turned over in bed and pulled the covers over his head.  I have to get shades on the windows to block out the bloody light, he thought for the nine thousandth time,  The phone rang, then followed the flight path of the clock.  Together they lay upon the dusty wooden floor and waited.

There was a knock on the door.  He growled and said, ” I have a GUN and it’s pointed at the door.”

The knocking continued, becoming more persistent and a lot LOUDER.

Terry wondered it anyone’s head ever exploded from a hangover.  He imagined that it happened all the time, but the liquor companies just kept it quiet.

He rolled off the bed and waited until the room stopped spinning before he got up.  Then he made his way to the door, threw it open, and said, “Whatever it is, it better be good enough to stop me from killing you where you stand.”

“The Order has a job for you,” said Miles, a tall, skinny man in a dark blue suit, who brushed past Terry and made his way to the kitchen table.  He opened his briefcase, pulled out three files and said,  “Oh, do sit down, Terry, but put some clothes on first.  You look…terrible.”

“I should kill you,” whispered Terry.  “It would be a great way to start this day and they’d never find your body.”

“Yes, yes, kill me, hide the body, and all that.  If you would stop drinking for a day or two, you might not feel as bad as you always do.  And really, only certain vampires have eyes as red as yours.”

“I really hate you,” said Terry, pulling on the sweatpants that were thrown over the living room chair.  “Good enough?” he asked, holding out his arms.

“You’re disgusting, but yes, they’re good enough.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come here, you know.”

“Well, since you never come to the office, what other choice do we have?”

“We have an office?” he asked, frowning.  “Where is it?”

“I rest my case,” sighed Miles.

“Has anyone ever liked you?  Did your mother ever like you?  Anyone?  Anyone at all?”

“The only thing you hate about me is that I’m a functioning human being, as opposed to being an alcoholic dead beat.”

“I am not an alcoholic, Miles, nor am I a dead beat.  As for the functioning human being, you know I’m not completely human, so now my feelings are hurt.”

“Three files.  Three hits.  Need to be done fast.”

Terry tapped the files, then pointed to the door.  “Go away Miles and never darken my door again.”

“He wants these done by Friday.”

“Why?  What’s the rush?”

“No idea.”

“You never ask any questions, do you,” he said.

“I like breathing.”

Terry nodded.  “I’m going back to bed.  If you stay here, clean up the place.  It’s starting to get messy.”

Miles looked around, then closed his eyes.  “You could be so much more than you are.”

“Could’t we all,” said Terry, walking away.



“Where did you meet her?”

“By my pond.  She was sitting on a bench, having lunch.  I think she was eating a cheese sandwich with pickles.  She had chips as well.  I herd them crunching, as she bit into them.”

“When did she notice you?” asked the interviewer.

“I croaked at her.  She looked down at me and smiled.  Then she said hello and offered me a bit of bread.  I like flies, but I didn’t think it would be polite to ask her to catch any for me, so I just smiled back.”

“Then what happened?”

“She told me about her life.  What had happened in the past and how she felt about the future.”

“What did you say?”

“Well, I croaked some more, telling her that everything would be okay, but I’m not sure she understood everything I said.”

“I can understand the language problems.  Not unusual, of course.”

“No.  It’s quite common, actually.”

“Please tell me more,” said the interviewer.

“In the end, she asked if she could kiss me.  She said it was possible that I was her prince.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t think it was true.  But she was very sad, so I told her that she could kiss me.”

“Then what happened?”

“She held out her hand and I hopped on.”


“She smiled at me and said that if I wasn’t her prince, it would be okay, and she would love me no matter what happened.  She said she was grateful for my help.”

“Is that when she kissed you?”

“Yes.  She kissed me gently, then waited.”

“So you didn’t turn into her prince, did you,” signed the interviewer.

“Oh, yes.  I did turn into her prince.  Apparently, I was quite handsome, if she is to be believed.”

“Well, why aren’t you together?” asked the interviewer, quickly, looking around.  “Where is she?”

“She went home to pack.  We’re running away.  Going  someplace with bigger ponds.”

“Are you able to stay in human form for long periods of time?”

“I’m not sure.  It’s something I’ll have to get used to, I suppose.”

“And she’s okay with that?”

“We’re still working out the details.”

“Well, good luck to both of you, and may you have a long and wonderful life together.”

“Thank you very much.  I hope you have a nice day.”

“You too,” said the interviewer, closing her folder.  Thank you for your time.”


Photo:  Ksama





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