A Parasol, a Stroll, and an Unfortunate Act of Nature

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On my way from Musée Marmottan Monet to Palais de la Découverte, I chanced on a rare display of public temper between two girls.
One held a lacy parasol, the other grabbed it. The parasol moved to-and-fro like the flag on a rope in a tug of war. I couldn’t understand their French, but the pinches sur l’arrière said it all. Oh là là, they went at it.

A gust of wind broke the umbrella. They shouted in unison, “Oh là là, oh là là,” and laughed. It puzzled me, the change of mood, but I guessed they were sisters.

The Magic Diaspora

Dressed for travel, carpet bags packed, the Little People gathered around Granny Ellen’s grave. Saddened by Granny’s death, they knew that not a one of the village folk could take her place. She was the last of the elf whisperers. She spoke for nature. The elves reckoned the time for talk was past and the time for action too far in the future.

Gaia was resigned. The elves were united. Earth’s people had ignored drying trees, tolerated the stinky air and the murky water. Gaia summoned the Milky Way to make a staircase and the elves set off for home.

Moving Day

On moving day, a steady stream of neighbors walked past as the movers unloaded.

“What a cute dog.” A woman dressed in pajamas bent to stroke Tartar’s head and seemed surprised when he growled. “Well I never…”

“Let him get used to…”

“That dangerous thing. Keep him away.”

She retreated behind a man with a pistol in his belt. “And pick up after him. Or else.”

As they left, my closest neighbor wanted a higher fence, “You pay for it.”

A wild-eyed woman crossed the street, frantic. “No barking and no UFOs.”

I told the movers to reload the truck.

Inspired by a prompt from One Creative Writing Prompt a Day by Lita Kurth

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.”

Don’t Open the Door

A tragedy. They hoped to revive her. The smallest dwarf had noticed at intake that she seemed well mannered, a good example for the less socialized girls. Judging by the quality of her clothes, she’d come from a good family.

She earned her keep, but wouldn’t open the door or go outside, though she wouldn’t say why. She was the only one home when the apples came. The dwarf tried to imagine it. The urge to hide. The worry that she would disappoint them if she ignored the bell. The stab of a needle as the delivery driver injected her.

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.

When Life Gives You Lily Pads…

It was Aaron’s first Frogs to Princes convention. He’d found the event in an advertisement in the Pond Courier. Lectures ranged from “Curse Avoidance” to “Sounding Suave With a Frog in Your Throat.” He needed a laugh. He’d been desolate since his fairy godmother had been unable to reverse the spell that turned him into a frog.

The hall buzzed with the upper crust, royal accented croaks of enchanted frogs. All were princes. He started counting and quickly decided that there were more frogs than eligible princesses. A pragmatist, Aaron decided to find a lady frog and start a family.

Earthly Delights

Circe daydreamed under an oak tree that grew on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Her pet pig, Ulysses, dug truffles while she watched the sunset roll in. The truffles smelled woody, fresh, and clean. She felt wise when she nibbled them, almost as if she’d lived on the island for centuries.

She had thought she might live forever, cloistered from humankind. Young, tech rich, cranky, and prone to fits of passionate revenge, solitude suited her until she longed for company. Her TikTok video advertising island paradise dream homes went viral. Ulysses, in a straw hat, held an open house sign.

April Fool

He was up for mischief. A pint up. He twigged a flash of green, nothing but a fairy glimmer out from the woods at break of dawn. Then again, he reckoned ‘twas twilight. That might serve the little people better, twilight when shadows run deep, twilight when souls slip between worlds and mischief is abroad.

That second pint of ale overcome him. He could do anything now. Lift the world on his shoulders and take it for a ride. Find his true love. She’d encouraged him, green eyes, there on the barstool. But was it real, or was it blarney?

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