Ode to Kohnan

His eyes were open and stayed that way
Aware and dignified, right up to the end.
A mensch, reserved, not prone to delay, 
Loyal to a fault, on that you can depend.

Saucy he was in the final hours,
Demanded kibble, a last meal at midnight.
Poured out love, licks, and reassurance.

Despite his weak body, his power
Did prolong the end, enough so that we might
Say woof, shed our tears, take one last dance.

He knew it was the end. We, quite sure, thought that he would rally.
He lay quiet, dignified, a friend and most trusted ally.

Mirror, Mirror

I expect he’s as bad as she was. They’re all the same. “Mirror, mirror.” They don’t ask my name. If they do, they never remember. Damn, here he comes. The fairest of them all. Gold skin, gold hair, gold picture frames. More like the fakest of them all.

The paunch is real. It’s the size of New Jersey.

Queen Evil knew the truth. She was out for revenge as soon as she saw the real beauty standing behind her. I’ll tell him what he wants to hear. Or I’ll go so dark even his sparkly gold won’t bring me back.

A Quiet Morning

Exiled to the backyard,
While inside the termite inspector inspects,
Kohnan limps to the door,
Pleads with liquid brown eyes.
He doesn’t bark; has no energy for that these days.

“He’s friendly.” 
The inspector nods. Kohnan sidles in quietly.
He’s drawn blood.
He can be protective, even with friends.
Not now. Mornings he wakes up slowly in a fog of old age.

He’s at my feet, 
Moving his head to the sound of steps in the attic.
The sun falls in patterns, 
Warms my legs, his arthritic hips.
Warmth is welcome to us both, we’re grateful spring is coming fast.

Tennis Anyone?

At night, she played tennis. It started innocently enough. It was raining and she couldn’t sleep. She took a few balls and thwacked them against the back wall of the garage. Retrieved them from under the car. The next night, she parked on the street. Next, she moved the workbench to the side yard. And so on and so on until she had the garage replaced with an enclosed tennis court.

Her roommate was surprised. “Did you check with the landlord?”

“About what?”

“Putting in a tennis court.”

“It’s a garage, a better version.”

“How?”

“It has a tennis court.”

Undercover Nature Lover

After hours, a box arrived at Jenny’s apartment above the florist. For months, her boss had used her address for clandestine deliveries. The earthy smell was unmistakable. It was a priceless orchid trafficked from Brazil that Banyan had ordered for a private collector.

The next morning, she said “Nothing came.”

“Call them. It’s perishable.” He picked up a spray hose and walked around the shop in a snit.

Jenny called USDA enforcement and got an appointment for lunchtime.

When she left Banyan looked suspicious, like he knew she was turning him in.

Maybe he smelled the plant under her jacket.

Inspired by Lita Kurth’s, One Creative Prompt a Day

Fox in the Henhouse

The judge banged her gavel, more in frustration than to bring order to the court. The charge: attempted chaos. The jury had heard from Chicken Little who alleged the sky was falling. The police claimed Fox spread the rumor subliminally on his bedtime story podcast. He then lay in wait around the corner from the henhouse, where he assaulted Little. Big Old Fox denied having done any such thing.

Little cackled, “We will all perish.”

Fox asserted she was crazy. Ugly, too.

The judge adjusted her spectacles and searched among her papers. “We have a process. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”

Never, Never Underestimate a Fairy

I’m not an ill humored creature. The opposite. Fairies have sweet natures. Ask anyone except Captain Hook. He and I don’t get on. And though Peter Pan and I have our differences, I believe he would tell you that I have a heart of gold. Literally, a gold heart.

This is a problem. Greedy people try to do away with me. Hook has attempted more than once with a net of electric eel and kelp, but I always slip through the holes. Unless a fairy is in a snit, she’s size flexible and current impervious. Fortunately, I’m chill as gold.

It Takes a Princess to be a Queen

Poor little thing, feet bare, bedraggled dress, beleaguered, and common. The prince says to me, “I’ve found a wife.”

More like a wet kit.

I could say, “She’s a sly one.” He would never listen. He has too good a heart.

So, I tell my maid, “Find her a gown. Let her sup in the kitchen. And lastly, make up the softest bed with the hardest pebbles inside as a test.” Maid’s done this many times.

The ungrateful girl eats nothing. The satin is not fine enough, the slippers too stiff. By morning, I know she’s a princess most uncommon.

A Mother’s Quandary

My only daughter, a kind one her. Didn’t she bake a cake, ripe with almond scent, to bring her grandmother? To visit my mother is arduous, more than one day’s journey. Should I caution her? Could my daughter understand if I warned her about the treacherous nature of the beast we women become by the light of the moon? And as fate would have it, the moon is full tonight.

I must trust my precious girl. I tell her, “Stay on the path, avoid strangers, clean yourself in the river along the way if you must. My love to Grandma.”

Cut Before the Chase

Photo by Maria Fernanda Fotografia on Pexels.com

Yeasty fresh rolls wrapped in rough textured linen, unpolished like the girl who carried the basket. Mist rose from woody ground to fill the heavy air. The young girl parked herself to rest under a tree.

Behind her, a rank smell rose. A wild laugh accompanied the odor’s owner, a creature of the forest who embodied all that tangled in trees and clung to rocks. “Tired? I have a shortcut for you.”

“Where am I going, then?”

“Give something, get something.”

“I’ll give you what for.” She pulled out an ax from her red riding cape and cut things short.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: