Category: February Stories

The Perfect Pet Cow

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

Ellie groped for a pitcher to hold her morning milk. The pitcher felt warm. It moved and mooed when she touched it. It had the same fresh smell of country lanes that had attracted Ellie’s attention as she browsed the housewares aisle of the local thrift store. The pitcher had been only five dollars. She thought she might be asleep.

Overnight, the pitcher became a cow. She fed it salad and built a small platform with a hole in the center for the cow to stand on. She placed her tea cup under the center hole and squirted in milk.

Wishes Come True

Photo by luizclas on Pexels.com

Jack spent the change from his mother’s lottery ticket on a pen. The hawker wore tattered clothes, even more tattered than Jack’s. Maybe the boy felt sorry for the man. These magic markers hadn’t brought him luck.

“Write your wish on a piece of golden paper tonight when the moon is bright. Bury the paper under an oak tree and say a prayer.” 

Jack thanked the man. He took the lottery ticket and the pen home to his mother.

“You spent my change for that.” Still, she gave him paper. It was barely in the ground; she shouted, “We won!”

Escapist Fiction

Openverse

She woke up on Saturday morning with the best of intentions. She even had a list. There was a little shopping to do and then she’d clean the house, walk the dog… But it never happened. Well, rather, shopping happened until she saw a book at the check stand and started flipping through it. 

The next thing she knew, she was flying through a tunnel towards a bright light. She pinched herself, realized nothing was amiss, and began to notice odd things at the checkstand. Gummy witches, scarecrow corn chips. Then she noticed she wore a gingham dress and ruby slippers.

Dinosaurs

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The ankylosaurus strapped on his helmet and hopped on his bike. His tail swung from side to side, balancing him. He was about to become a fossil, though he had no idea that the asteroid would strike that afternoon. No one did. They were all worried about T-Rex. Terrified, in fact. Fear, uncertainty and doubt ruled.

Before Rex, it was something else. And something else. Something else to distract them. They reacted. They dodged to the left, to the right. They ducked and wove. Eventually, distractions took their toll.

Ankylosaurus felt himself wobble. He steered hard to the center. 

Tiny Hands

Photo by Suki Lee on Pexels.com

The others dinosaurs laughed behind his back but not to his jaw dominated face. It was the jaw they avoided when T-Rex came after them. His hands were small, arms too short to reach, but he had a knack for swinging his head in a death arc while his mouth spewed rot. Avoid the rot, avoid the hands, run like hell. It’s a Hobbesian world.

It doesn’t help to run. Nor will a strongman, a dinosaur like T-Rex, solve the problem. Given the chance, dear Hobbes, a dictator will make life “nasty, brutish, and short,” for the rest of us.

A Moment, A Feeling

Photo by Porapak Apichodilok on Pexels.com
There’s a moment when I think about a lonely alone in the future 
because life throws these things at you,
especially at our age.

Would that be okay?
Could I make it work?

No.  I would end up down infinite rabbit holes, an eternity of recursions, chasing Red Queens and Cheshire Cats, my own tail.
Not making sense.

Your presence anchors me in this time, this here and now present.
I depend on the steady chronology of your day-in, day-out goodness,
depend on the moments we intersect at intervals
to talk, to eat, to share a thought.

You ground me.

A Change of Spring

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Not windy as we thought it would be.
Light breeze spins a metal orb;
shelf fungus grows in a tree knot.

Spring, the first of many buds,
of many mushrooms, honey colored. They make the most of rain.
Draw it into gills that spore. The dogs sniff around, giddy.

Soon enough another front will come. We’ll hunker inside.
Soon enough a fierce February like last 
February when soil sogged and trees uprooted.

We live by the weather, uncertain what else might give way,
grateful the sun shines, for now.
Then watch the world move fast past points of no return.

Last Postcard

Photo by Lalezarfa on Pexels.com

The last postcard I sent to my mother came back labeled, “Attempted- Not Known.” My fault. I left off all but the G in Georgetown, Texas. No zip code. Maybe it was a premonition that stopped my hand. The date of return was the day she died.

“Love you,” is all I was trying to say. Would she even have heard the aide read the two words? She hadn’t responded to my daily postcards. Maybe the message was lost to her in the haze of last days, not in the post office where someone shrugged, unable to deliver the undeliverable.

King Arthur’s Dog with a Lesson on the Resilience of Culture

Creative Commons: Road bridge over Caban Coch by Nick Mutton

I lived in Wales where Arthur dwelled before England took him for their king. His favorite hunting dog, I was. All that’s left is a print of my paw cast in stone atop a cairn. Maybe you have the strength and courage to climb the craggy peaks of Cam Gafallt. Look but don’t take. The rock finds its way back from those who steal it.

So many things the English took from Wales- stories, language- as if defeat could erase our spirit. My paw print will never disappear from Cam Gafallt, nor will our people’s differences hide behind a common culture. 

Turning Straw Into Crime

http://www.artsycraftsy.com/anderson_prints.html by Anne Anderson (1874- 1930)

The witness took her seat and told the court the terrible truth about the defendant, Mr. Rumplestiltskin. “So, he wouldn’t give me his name. I was desperate. He would save my life for a necklace. The next time, it was a ring. The third time, my first born child. I agreed each time, but when the baby came… I couldn’t give her up.”

“I found Rumplestiltskin online with an image search. There’s hundreds of victims. A baby selling business, he trafficked alchemists. Your honor, Rumplestiltskin is an evil man who preys on others’ misfortune. Make him pay for his crimes.”