Exponential Celebration

Word spread fast. One juggler tossed two primary colored clubs in the air. Four more brought sixteen hoops. 256 arrived with torches. 4096 watched. The park filled; the street was jammed with merrymakers.

The mayor juggled two, four, sixteen apples from his shopping bag in a continuous cascade of 256 rounds without dropping a single pomme. Someone took a picture that went viral.

The governor attended in a wheelchair. She motored over grassy ground, glad-handing as people made way for her under a sky filled with balloons. Above the crowded scene, an airplane drew Exponential Celebration so all could see.

Mold From Outer Space is Growing in Her Bathroom

It started as a small patch of mold in the corner of the shower. She meant to clean it before she went to Chicago on business, but then the trip was moved up and her toddler had an ear infection. So many things to do and so little sleep.

On the plane she remembered the mold. She called her husband, but he didn’t pick up. Her phone overflowed with messages when she landed. Her family had fled. The paper published above the fold pictures of infected mold and space aliens. She was completely amazed. She’d never had a green thumb.

Chekhov’s Gun Meets Occam’s Razor

Mary’s gone crackers. It’s her husband’s fault. Occam thinks the world is an orderly place. He believes in simple, direct solutions.

Mary disagrees, she believes in Chekhovian twists and turns. What’s more, she expects that if there is a gun, it will go off in the end. She is correct.

Mary bought a gun safe for the pistol that belonged to Occam’s grandfather. For months, she nagged Occam to lock it up. She pleaded, she threatened. The simplest solution was to stow it herself. She looked everywhere for the gun, only to find Occam out shooting at zigzagging jack rabbits.

Secret Hoards

Adam73, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

I couldn’t find the dog’s bowl. I’d looked in the normal places, sorted through jam-packed cupboards filled with paperware, ceramic plates, cardboard boxes from blenders and other appliances. It had to be somewhere. We never threw anything away. I had no choice but to go into the archives.

In a room stacked floor to ceiling with broken chairs, science projects, NYT and Safeway circulars from 1974 to present, and countless historical documents, I found the bowl. The dog must have dragged it into his secret hiding place because there it was, between his paws, cradling his head while he slept.

Elemental

Solstice has come and gone. The days are waning now. Invite the neighbors in for summer watermelon and ice cream sundaes. See out the sunset together. Recall an evening savored for its late fading light, light that illuminates gatherings on porches where people jawbone until after dark.

Remember when kids played keep away on a night like this? Or they brought their mitts out to catch and throw across the street? They’d stop to let a car pass. Maybe you were in that car. On the way home. Maybe someone on the porch hailed you. “Come up, bring the family.”

Reading the Room

If Sadie had any idea this girl, who’d assured Sadie they didn’t know each other, would look at her hand and turn her world upside down, she would have walked right past that “Psychic” sign in the window and bought a sack of corn instead.

The girl said someone was lying to her. Sadie’s sister, always a suspect; maybe her boyfriend was playing around; then again, the neighbor claimed she hadn’t seen the Amazon package that Sadie’s cousin sent.

Sadie recognized the girl in her P.E. Class.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

“My aunt’s the psychic. Yeah, I was lying.”

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

Photo by Pierre Blachu00e9 on Pexels.com

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

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