The only one

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The night lay in wait.

The sun fell through the sky

and the trees held the ball of fire close to them.

The air grew cold and the stars lit the sky with their light.

Dusk had come

and lent calm to the end of the day.

The songs of the birds has ceased

and the sound of night crept up on the pair

as they sat with wine in hand.

His stare caught her off guard.

She brought the glass to her lips and drank.

She could feel his gaze burn her skin

and his smile made her heart warm.

The fire roared and the sparks lit the sky.

This was the night.

She knew it, she felt it.

He got down on one knee and gave her the box.

It was carved from a branch of the tree they knew,

a tree that saw two friends grow since they were young.

The ring and the box were pure love.

She lay a kiss on his lips

and said yes.

~~

This was written in response to the Daily Prompt that was my suggestion today!!  Write about anything you choose using only one-syllable words.  It was also inspired by a friends recent engagement and the ring box was carved from a branch of a tree they played under as children.

Funny ha-ha or funny ridiculous?

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Oh Daily Prompt, how timely you are!!  I was sitting on my deck on Wednesday night and out of nowhere began to remember lines from this poetic joke I heard as a teenager.  I may have missed parts….but the fact that I could actually remember this much of it thirty years later isn’t so bad!!

Now listen very carefully,

it’s as simple as can be.

The place is Piccadilly,

the players, he and she.

I don’t know how to do it,

she said with fearful eyes.

It’s getting rather painful,

it must be quite a size.

Now calm yourself my darling,

his face beheld a grin.

Just open slightly wider,

so I can get it in.

Suddenly with a startled cry,

she gave a little shout.

Only a little blood was shed,

and then he pulled it out.

Now as you listen carefully,

it’s a dentist you will find.

It’s not what you were thinking,

it’s just your dirty mind.

Needle and the damage done

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The Daily Prompt intrigued me today. Here is what they asked for: Draft a post with three parts, each unrelated to the other, but create a common thread between them by including the same item — an object, a symbol, a place — in each part.

I do love a challenge!!  (and after some technical difficulties and some lost data, we’re back!)

~

She squirmed before the needle even penetrated the roof of her mouth. The numbing sensation followed soon afterwards and so did the nitrous oxide making the lights of the dental office seem engaging and hypnotic. The doctors glove-rendered hands floated above her head like giant balloons in a parade. She was sure she should be more coherent during a routine check-up, but his words danced on her eardrums never fully penetrating her brain. Or at least that is what she thought. She awoke later with an acrid taste of metal in her mouth and was about to ask if she could rinse. The words wouldn’t come. Her instinct told her not to speak unless she was spoken to. It was that gut feeling that she would eventually comprehend and would ultimately save her life. He carelessly tossed the needle out the office window.

~

The dream was always the same. She was in her car and could see the police lined up ahead for a random spot check. She was usually more careful with her paraphernalia, but she was high and hadn’t really cared until the moment she saw the flashing lights – the beacon of her eventual doom. She reached for the scattered mess of bags and the cherished needle that was all too prevalent on the front seat. That was where she had first found it that afternoon after leaving her car windows open and that is where it lay now. Frantically she shoved the bags into any hiding spot she could find. As the cars moved forward beads of sweat trickled from her brow.  In her haste to hide the bags, she had taken her attention from the road and hit the car in front of her.  The needle was catapulted from the safety of the passenger seat and now lay in plain view on the floor.  The beam of the officer’s flashlight scanned the car and reflected off the metal that glinted in its light.  The dream became blurry after that.  She awoke feeling unrested and scanned her surroundings.  The iron bars on the door remained still and sturdy, holding her captive for what felt like an eternity.  Perhaps dreams, good or bad, really do come true.

~

This particular needle had plunged through tapestries for so long, it could probably work itself in and out of the canvas without the help of her gnarled and arthritic fingers.  She surveyed the room and the many framed works she had been creating for so long.  Each collection of carefully woven stitches served to paint a picture of a happy family.  Each of her four children’s birth dates and full given names lined the wall she looked at so lovingly and nine pillows adorned her furniture with the same information about her grandchildren.  She feverishly worked on number ten waiting for the phone call.  The shrill ring of the phone startled her, but the smile crept ceremoniously into the corners of her mouth as she reached for the phone.

“Mom, it’s twins.  A boy and a girl!”

She reached for a new canvas for the unexpected arrival and gently placed it beside the only canvas she had never finished – the one that belonged to the child she lost so long ago to a drug overdose.  Someday she would find the strength to forgive, but she had two new additions to focus on now.  The needle began to work its magic once more.

Here’s to you Ms. Dickinson

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The Daily Prompt got me again….POW, right in the kisser.  Here’s what they want: National Poetry Writing Month is nearly at an end. To celebrate it, try your hand at some verse.

~

Air flows in circular patterns,

over the crushed brown grass.

Blades slowly stretch from the earth,

as Spring has finally come to pass.

Trees blossom and new life grows,

reaching from outstretched limbs.

Birds crest on upward drafts,

they are the promise of summer’s warm winds.

The chill of the night air recedes,

giving way to the heat of the sun.

Mother Nature has blessed us,

Her beauty is not to be outdone.

Play it again, Sam

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The Daily Prompt is this: Tell us about a book you can read again and again without getting bored — what is it that speaks to you?

I am slightly obsessed when it comes to Dean Koontz.  I have read all of his books at least once, most likely twice.  He wrote a book in 2003 called Watchers that detailed the escape of two laboratory animals that had an indescribable connection to each other.  One of the experimental animals was a horrendously disfigured failure of a creation and the other was a beautiful Golden Retriever.  Both of these genetically altered animals were blessed with the intelligence and reasoning ability of a human.  Only one was loved and doted on for his success and the other hated him for it and wanted nothing but to kill the dog.

Watchers is a strange premise for a story, but the relationship Travis has with his dog is remarkably touching.  I can honestly say that I have read it at least 10 times and it still instills the same emotion when I read it.  It was the first book I chose to read when my mom went into the hospital.

The emotion and companionship described in the book between a human and his dog pulls at my heart-strings every time I read it and it makes me hug my dog a little tighter.  I only wish she could answer my questions with scrabble tiles as well!!

I’m not sure if I’d call it a possession…Daily Prompt

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The Daily Prompt lured me in again with its devious, thought-provoking challenge – Prized Possession:  Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a child. What became of it?

For all intents and purposes, it wasn’t actually mine.  It was tangible and readily accessible when I summoned up the courage to play games with it, but I had no ownership of it.  I couldn’t play with it on a whim because I had little to no control over the time I would get to spend with it.  Whatever time I did get to spend with it made me love it even more.

It had many different features and helped me develop a true sense of competition.  It had a hard-outer shell, but once you worked it in a little bit, it became much softer and more pliable. At certain points in my life, I actually tried to emulate this item.

I have never lost my attachment to it.  If anything that attachment has only grown stronger over the years.  I never had to think back and wonder what became of it because it is still near and dear to my heart.  It resides five minutes from my house in a house all its own.  I still play games with it, like the old days, but the games are different now.

This prized possession, the item I am still so attached to is the father of my two nephews, my brother and one of my best friends.

Hoarding gives me the Heebie-jeebies

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The Daily Prompt asks this question today:

Does a messy home (or office) make you anxious and cranky, or is cleaning something you just do before company comes over?

coffee_table

(image credit: accentondesign.net)

The items on my coffee table do not have to be positioned at precise angles at varying degrees, but things do have a certain place in my house.  I am not fanatical about cleaning, but I am stringent about being organized.  I don’t get many surprise visitors because I live in a very rural area, but if people drove off the beaten path and arrived at my home, I would not be frantically searching for the Swiffer or tossing newspapers or wrappers under the couch cushions.

The same goes for my desk at work.  Sure there are piles of paper and file folders, but they are organized piles that I strategically am able to work through because everything has its place.

Having said that, the entrance way into my house could potentially negate anything I’ve mentioned about seeming organized, but that will be rectified soon.  My entrance way is the only spot for me to store my patio cushions and other outdoor items that are longing to be freed from their winter incarceration.  It’s nothing close to being a Hoarder’s episode, but it does make me a bit anxious when I see everything piled in one spot.  Hazmat suits are not required, but until I win the lottery I will have to deal with the negative aspects of living in a house that is only 650 square feet.  At least the rest of it is organized!

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