Candlelight

Candlelight warms up dark days and nights, melts hearts hardened by cold wind and colder thoughts. Candles feature in solstice celebrations that have lifted spirits for centuries. The welcoming village, the holiday stories, the light of the fireplace and the smoky smell of it, the wood fire cooking traditional foods. These images burn in collective memory. They carry humanity through conflict and scarcity. Celebrations can jolt us from the amnesia that makes us forget the things we have in common. Light emanates from churches, temples, campsites, and shelters uniting us to hope that the first flower of spring will arrive.

Pride, Goblins, and Other Monsters

The Goblin King’s minion had failed. Hershel tricked him and kept the Hanukkah candles burning.

“The Jew will not win again. No more miraculous nights. Darkness for Donbas.” The goblin exploded into a vortex that sucked up the atmosphere. The synagogue door shattered to splinters. “Behold my power.”

Hershel shook with fear. “I see no one. Light a candle if you’re there.”

The goblin’s pride kept him lighting the candles. He wanted respect.

Hershel led the Goblin King on until the last candle had been lit. Furious, the goblin destroyed the synagogue, but Hershel and the menorah’s light stayed strong.

Inspired by Eric Kimmel’s Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins, with hope for a miracle in Ukraine. Kimmel credits a Ukrainian folktale for his inspiration. It’s turtles all the way down.

Dancing in Iron Shoes

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The silent Mirror left the Queen to reflect on what she’d done. It refused to speak the truth about her face; lined and aged and dried. Framed in the glass, unchanged was yesterday’s crone who had delivered an apple- a poisoned apple- to her stepdaughter. Once she’d rid herself of her rival, the hate seeped out through her pores.

Perhaps that rivalry was the only thing that had kept her young.

The Queen sat in the chair by her bed. She propped her feet. She slept. It was a sleep that lasted until Prince Charming kissed Snow White alive again.

Dragon Games

Drago hated the taste of princesses. So when his friend, Ash, promised to introduce him to one if he promised not to eat her, he agreed.

She smelled like the forest. Quite delicious. But he’d promised.

“The river is a good place to meet,” Drago said. “I mean, in case I burp.”

Ash said, “Drago….” at the same time the princess said, “Don’t you dare!”

“I’ll only fart.”

“Bet you can’t fart as many times as me,” said the princess.

Princess farts are disgusting. Drago held his breath. He flapped his wings, ascending to the heavens. He turned to stars.

Thanksgiving Thoughts

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I’m thankful that 300 years after the Treaty of New Echota was signed, the American Congress is considering seating Kimberly Teehee as a delegate from the Cherokee Nation. It shouldn’t have taken this long. Not every tribe gets a seat at the table, albeit a non-voting seat. But it is a step.

I am grateful to Deb Haaland, Interior Secretary, for her support of Native language recovery, a reversal of the agency’s historic efforts to destroy Native culture. Throughout history, language has kept subject cultures alive, preserved the dignity of their peoples, and fostered a richer experience for all.

Mom Wants You Home

“You’re in trouble.” Lars was out of breath. “You’re gonna get grounded.”

“I’ve got to hold back the water.” Hans reached for his phone. “Here, alert the dike patrol.”

Lars took the phone and did as he was told. That was the difference between them. His brother almost never did what he was told. He was always off on an adventure. The younger one stayed home to placate their mother.

“The dike patrol, they’re coming.” Lars saw the strain in Han’s face and, surprised, saw fear in his eyes. “Can I help?”

“Tell mom where we are.”

The boy said, “I’ll hold the water. You call.”

A Spell of Plenty

“I can’t eat another bite.” Hansel closed his trick or treat bag.

“Do you think someone cast a spell?” Gretel counted her loot again. There was more now than when she started eating.

“Let’s take it to the witch.” They set off through the forest along a now familiar path. No need for breadcrumbs any more.

The Sugar House Witch welcomed them with fresh cookies and milk. “What’s in the bag, pet?”

“Multiplicative candy,” Hansel said.

“Wish I had that problem,” the witch said. “I’m constantly losing candy decorations.”

The children finished their snack and left behind their ever accumulating treats.

Faerie Rings

In the shadow of year’s end, a tired dribble of twilight musings unleashes thoughts muddled and unrestrained. They fall on damp forest floors.

The smell of pines might clarify, might of a sudden reveal the intentions of close-mouthed colorful shedding trees.

Autumn cold settles like a fog on layers of soft loam. Earthworms transform decomposing leaf mold into soil.

The worms feel sleep coming on and burrow deeper, warmer. Their heat keeps the planet humming even as cool air portends a slowing.

Spores burst from a deteriorating toadstool. Lacy umbrellas unfurl. The Little People sip warm cider at season’s turning.

Can’t We Play Nice?

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Tabitha gaveled in the annual meeting of WG&G (Witches, Ghosts, and Goblins.) “In all the years that I’ve chaired this meeting, there’s never been a time like this.”

Casper Ghost interrupted her. “You always look on the dark side. What about the Salem witchcraft trials? How about Attila the Hun?”

“You think this is better?” Tabitha sniffed. “Anyway, how would you know? You’re on World of Warcraft constantly. You need to be more serious.”

Casper turned pink. “Play calms our fears. Think Halloween. A chance at make believe might distract people from their feuds. Use your words, I say, “Trick or treat.”

Men In Heels

“I simply must have those glass slippers.” The Prince was confident they would fit. The dancing lady was nervous.

As the clock struck midnight, as he led her to take a seat and remove the heels, as the spell began to reverse, Cinderella ran. She was oblivious to everything but getting away before her riches turned to rags.

The Prince was dumbfounded. He chased her from the hall, stopping only to retrieve the first fallen pump. When he looked up, a charlady met his gaze.

“Where did she go?”

What he didn’t see was one glinting shoe on her foot.

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