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.

MAMA’s Boys Meet 4B (B for no, 4 for dating, sex, children, marriage)

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They sloughed into DC for the inauguration. They meant to get there sooner, but the polar vortex swept down and froze the engines on their hogs. They took a bus to DC. Man, they were jazzed. Trump would “Make America Misogynist Again.” Overturning Roe was a down payment. He’d keep his promise to protect women, “Whether they like it or not.”

Tex, the organizer, noticed there were no chicks in the crowd. Ladies, way too delicate for this weather. He checked his dating app. Every woman’s profile said, “Not interested. Back in 2029, maybe.” WTF?

MAMA’s Boys- 0. 4Bs- 1.

https://www.the-independent.com/life-style/4b-movement-trump-election-win-south-korea-b2643558.html

A Doggie Solution

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I had a lover and then we split. He wanted the dog. So did I. I won that fierce argument. The ex settled for visits.

The dog was a steady companion, a good judge of character. He loved us both and told us so with sloppy licks. He sniffed the air in that doggie way that senses tension, anger, sweet innocence. He buried the bones of contention so that we could be friends.

Doggie romped, played, distracted, comforted in the language of liquid eyes and soft tongue against tear stained cheeks. Stayed close, healing pain with sweet and kind attentiveness.

The End of Empire

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Haven’t you heard? The elder statesman is packing. 
Emperor Discord is prancing to Palatine Hill in a red toga. 
He’s promised bread and circuses. 
He’s planning a retro-empire Roman regime.

After the wall comes the coliseum. 
No need to go in person. See pictures on X. 
Read the retweets. Watch Fox trust, they will not verify. 
Comedians, prepare to roast.

The joke’s on us. All the bread is meant for the one percent. 
Even now, they’re pulling up the stakes on the circus tent. 
You’ll find the performers leaving at midnight on the gravy train. 
Ticket  price: unwavering, groveling loyalty.

Bring on the New Year

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Tables filled with tasty foods prepared by friends. The first potluck of the year is already a wild success. There’s news, of course. Travels to far away places. Lost elections; can we ever recover? Some might move. Probably not, though. Too many ties here. Look at this room, these people. They’ve known each other too long to cut and run.

There will be more adventures this new year. More books to read and hikes to take and nights around the television with the dogs snoring at their feet. Babies will be born. The world will grow older and maybe wiser.

‘Tis the Season

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Along a woodsy trail in the deepest forest you’ll find a steady light if you look hard. Wish on it. If your heart is pure and you know the meaning of the season, your wish will come true. But then you won’t be believing me, will you?

No influencer am I. Not one you’ll find on Tik Tok or Instagram. Not one to hype the latest thing. But I tell you, take that walk, find a log, sit a while. A small brown bird will land on a branch. A doe might feed, a squirrel might chatter. Anything can happen. 

Fairy Dust

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The village wise woman was sure he was a changeling. “He was kidnapped by fairies.”

They took the boy to the middle of the forest on the night of a blue moon, left him in a clearing, then hid themselves. He disappeared in a puff of smoke. They heard a baby cry.

”How will we know if it’s ours,” the father said.

”What if it’s not?” The mother burst into tears.

They picked the baby up, a beautiful little girl, and brought her to the wise woman. “Raise her well. She’s been touched by magic; soon she’ll take my place.”

Golden Slippers, Suitable for Mucking Stables and Dancing With Diplomats

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On her eighteenth birthday, her mother presented the princess with golden slippers, shiny, with sensible heels and a square toe, perfect for adventuring. The princess tried them on. They fit perfectly. 

“They always will,” her mother said. “They cost a pretty penny, but they’re worth it.”

Her mother’s last adventure had been to the place where pretty pennies are mined. “We’ll travel. We’ll have such fun. You can’t imagine.”

The princess looked at her mother’s feet, but they were shod in ordinary leather. “Those are your Adventure shoes?”

“They change to suit the occasion. They’re quite useful.”

“I can imagine.”

After Wandering

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They’ve built the Sukkot sukkah to remember wandering for forty years in the desert. Vegetables and fruits cover the grass mat where they will eat supper. 

The sky is quiet now, but the two year old refuses to come out from under her bed where she feels safe. It’s been this way for weeks, months. It’s worse when planes are flying. If Bubbie brings food to her, she can lure the toddler into the open. 

The child comes, but will not eat, as if she could control the planes this way, by waiting for peace before she breaks her fast.

Frost on the Roof

Photo by Peter Kessler
Crystal White sleeps through spring and summer. 
Tats fine lace on crisp fall days. In winter, an icy wraith,
She crusts roofs, coats bare branches.
Under deciduous trees, leaves clump, stiff to the ground. 

She casts a spell. Keeps me warm abed.
Reluctant to heed the call of morning’s light, I dream of fragrant gingerbread. 
Relaxed under a blanket, I peruse the glossy pages of a travel book.
A fire warms the room. The logs crumble to embers.

Resigned, I set aside all thoughts of reprieve. 
Dark days are coming, 
Winter before spring. 
Grim hiatus, but these trials will pass.