Category: May Stories

Raven Prince

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Once there was a wicked prince, so wicked he stank. No maiden would have him.

He mounted his horse and set out to find a wife.

On the road, a raven flew above his head. He threw rocks and when they hit the bird, the prince felt pain. He felt the same pain on seeing a crowd of beggars. A parched child moved him to give her water.

It was a cleansing experience. The raven spoke. “Follow me.”

The prince crossed the kingdom, sweating beside laborers, sweeping streets, felling trees. He smelled of productive work and lived a happy life.

A(u)nt Queens

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The bread was fresh and I was terrifically hungry, so I helped myself. 

My aunt scolded me. “Crumbs, you left crumbs. The ants found them and carried them in a line through the kitchen. They’re back for the sugar.”

I cleaned the floor where the ants had left a trail. She scolded me. “I’m getting fond of them. They have personalities. See that large one.”

”That’s the Queen.” 

“Where’s her crown?” 

“It’s her size.” 

My aunt, a large woman, pondered this. “We have that in common.”

They also love bread.

They are fast friends now, my aunt and the Ant Queen.

The Nose Knows

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“Top o’ the day.” A man in a tam’o shanter, blue and green plaid, black and white lines for definition, greeted the butcher, who stood behind his product, a case of meat, bones and all.  The man’s Scottie wore boots, four of them, leather zipped on the side. A dog was welcome as long as he behaved. This one did. 

The Scottie was there to sniff for bombs. He walked the length of the shop, then froze.

“Everyone out!”

The butcher grabbed bones for the dog, leapt from behind the counter. Scottie gnawed while the bomb squad did its job.

Ode to Kohnan

Photo by Monica McHenney
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

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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

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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?

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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

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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

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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

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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.