Park Magic

The door chimes jingled as he walked out the door. Leaving the corner store, with his Sunday Globe tucked under his arm, he decided to turn left and head towards the park rather than return home.

It was a beautiful day. Perfect for an afternoon in the park. He walked by the neighborhood kids playing ball. He crossed a circle of mothers with baby carriages. And he continued on his way until he found a free bench.

He sat down and opened his paper, going directly to his favorite columnist. In the background he heard the happy playful screams of the local kids. Their laughter was music to his ears. He smiled behind his paper. It certainly was a beautiful day. He turned around to see them rolling down the hill. Suddenly all he could smell was freshly cut grass.

He removed his shoes, pulled off his socks, rolled up his pants, neatly folded his paper and tucked it underneath his shoes. He looked to his right, then to his left and ran to the hill.

He dropped down to the ground and yelled out “Incoming!” and happily rolled down the hill.

***********************

This is a Studio 30+ writing prompt. Content challenge: He was sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper. When I started writing this, I had no idea where I was going. All I knew is I wanted to start it with the corner store, and end it with him sitting on a park bench dreaming of laying down in the grass. But those kids rolling down the hill caught me by surprise, so of course my old guy needed to jump in! I posted this yesterday on my creative writing site, until I develop a faithful readership over there, I thought I'd put it here today.

I used the image with the artist’s permission. Visit danheller.com to view more of his incredible art.

Interview With An Author: Tina Hook

Tina's First of Many Books

This is a first at my cyber house rules: an interview with an author. Tina, also known as Florida Girl, is a blogger whom I've been following for a few years. She's a great writer and a beautiful young woman I admire. As soon as I discovered she'd been published on Kindle, I immediately went to Amazon.com and purchased her book. I gobbled down read her book in less than 3 days!

Indulge

www.sodahead.com

With a nod and a slow smile, she agreed to the transaction. The thought of it alone was like a cool breeze running over her sweat drenched skin.

55 - Crossing Over

Mr Know It All

The day I turned 

eighteen, 

I stuffed all my 

stuffed toys in a box. 

Mayday!

junialeigh.wordpress.com

"Mayday! Mayday!"

Her face was wet, and salty. No doubt a mix of seawater and sweat. And maybe a few tears joined the messy mix? She grabbed her VHF radio, looked up to the skies above, or was it to her side now and prayed she was heard. "Mayday! Mayday! Please… somebody hear me! Mayday!"

Read more!

Dear Potential Employer

bohica2k.com

Obviously if I am writing you today, it is because I know that I am not only the best choice, but let's be frank here: I'm the only choice. Not only for this position, but just about any position. Just take a look at my résumé. Is there a field, any field, left untouched by my chocolate covered fingers?

Captivated (Improved Version)

Magpie Writing Prompt. Image by Sarolta Ban

He was late for work. He knew it was going to be one of those days. The razor suddenly was nothing but dull blades slicing through cream covered skin, empty coffee can, overflowing toilet, and then just as things could not get worse, the trash bag fell apart on his freshly dry cleaned suit.

Read more!

In The Closet

www.apartmenttherapy.com

She rarely got home before he did. And once she realized he wasn't home yet, a slow smile crept across her face.

She quickly put her stuff away and crawled into the closet. She knew she shouldn't, he repeatedly warned her that one day she'd give him a heart attack. Yet, hiding to surprise him was her favorite way of greeting her dad.

You Will Travel Far And Wide

Image: Uzengia Aleksander Nedic

The more she searched

The less she found.

Kitty Hangs Her Tiara

Voice-over: "In five, four, three..."

As the camera's red glow lights up so does Kitty and she rolls with the film. Obviously she feels she was born for this. "Hello, I'm Kitty and thank you for joining me as I prepare for my last pageant!" She takes a quick glance in the mirror, touches up her hair and returns to the camera. "Now I know what you're thinking: I'm too old for a beauty pageant! If that were true would they have a 18 and older category? But look at me! 29 and I'm still beating the younger girls. They've got nothing on me. Nothing!"

She tilts her head at an angle, looks up from the corner of her eyes and blows a kiss. "Could you do THAT with a book on your head? You wouldn't believe the stuff they still teach these kids! How can anyone flirt with a book balancing on their head?" With her hand covering her mouth she giggles. "Now look at me, I've just smudged my lipstick. Oh the things you make me do."

Quickly she faces the mirror, picks up her lipstick. Runs it over her lips and rubs them together. Makes a kiss at the mirror and returns to the camera.

"The younger girls need a sophisticated woman like me to show them the way. Winning a beauty pageant is all about winning the hearts of the judges. And truth be told, it is so much more than a mere beauty pageant. Judges delve into your personality, they evaluate your skills and then there's my favorite part:" with her hands in front of her, showing an imaginary billboard "The TALENT competition! So you see, it really is a Somebody Pageant! I've been telling them repeatedly to change the name, you know debunk the myth of" she raises her hands to make the famous quotation mark gesture "the empty shelled beauty queen..."

Kitty's attitude changes. her smile fades. Staring distantly away, she shakes herself back to the camera and the smile returns. "Like I said, this is my last pageant. I'm hanging my tiaras and I'm retiring..."

Kitty opens her robe just enough to show her leg. The camera zooms in on her thigh and her knee. "I'm going out with a bang!" She whispers: "I've been secretly taking dance classes. Look at these legs! Tadaa!" She guides the camera back to her face "That's enough now, my fans want to see my face!" The camera slowly returns to her legs "I will dance my way to my final trophy. I will retire a beauty queen forever!" Once again she guides the camera back to her prized smile and her shiny eyes. "Oh nobody expects me to dance, I've been ashamed of my legs for the longest time. $10,000 later and a new pair of knees these legs are begging to be admired by the world. Don't tell anybody, but a knee lift isn't my first dabble with plastic surgery." With her index finger by her lips she shushes her audience.

As her left hand pulls away from her face, she glances down towards her ring less finger. "I will retire a beauty queen and offer myself as the perfect trophy wife." Again she giggles hiding her mouth. "Some say men want a woman who laughs a lot. Who would want a laughing hyena? Like that ... that ... Susie!" In a mimicking nagging voice she continues "Little miss Susie Q and her high pitched laugh!" She rolls her eyes and moves closer into the camera. "Oh and that gum to teeth ratio?" she whispers "Not a plastic surgeon in the world could ever fix that! Sure they've given her the trophy, my trophy, a few times in the past. And we all know what her talent portion will be again this year! The same she's been doing since she was 10 years old."

Backing away from the camera for a dramatic pause, she fingers her hair, pushes her cheeks upwards with a quick glance into the mirror. "Cupcakes." She turns to face the camera "She waltzes out with a platter of cupcakes she" motions the quotation marks "baked herself at home" snickers, "and offers each judge a cupcake." Kitty rolls her eyes and pretends to gag.

"Buying the judges votes is what I say! And she should be ashamed of herself. She has no talent! I'll bet she's looking forward to my retiring... The real competition will die the day I wave my delicate long fingers good-bye as I walk away carrying my final trophy!" Another quick glance into the mirror with a nod of satisfaction. "What does SHE have to offer a man?" Kitty must love the finger quotation mark sign, because she does it yet again: "Marry me and I'll bake cupcakes til death do us part?" Again she looks down at her left hand. A slow exhale which could be confused with a sigh or a show of exasperation is released.

"My soul-mate, the man of my dreams does not want a career woman. No, my man, a real man, not a wishy-washy new-age emasculated man: wants a traditional woman." Now her face really lights up, her eyes are searching something and keep glancing somewhere up in the air above the camera. "He'll have a solid name, a name of power like Bronson, and he'll be strong and brave enough to protect me."

The lights in the dressing room flash twice. "Eeks! That's my cue!"  She stands up, turns to the mirror, nods an approval of her looks, unties her robe covering her outfit and turns to the camera. "Wish me luck!" With a flick of her arms, her robe falls to the ground revealing her costume. "Or as they say in zee show bizeeness: Merde!" Let's a soft giggle run out "Oh and Bronson, stop looking, you've found me! And I'll make you proud!" She twirls like a ballerina and dashes out the dressing room.

Fade to black. Voice over:  "And cut!"

******************

This has been yet another fun Magpie tale. Please feel free to tell me what you think in the comment field below. I'm eager as a beaver for feedback!

a frame...

She tied her kayak to the roof of her car. One day she will buy that nifty little Swedish rack she'd been eying. This homemade creation will have to do for now... she supposed.

It was still dark, but she knew the sun would start showing it's face by the time she'd make her way to the river. She loved this moment. It was her favorite part of the day. She always felt like she was stealing fleeting moments, when the world was still fast asleep including her husband (which she could hear snoring even from outside the house) her headlights being the only visible sign of life.

Often she'd cross her next door neighbor. Usually they'd exchange a knowing smile, an exchange from one addict to another. Her addiction was to her exercise routine. His love was the casino. Until she moved here she never understood why they stayed open 24 hours a day. He must have gotten home earlier, she didn't see him this morning...

She also hoped to be the first to touch the river. The Eastern Rowing Club had an even stricter regime than hers. More often than not, they left the river before the sun even glimpsed it. Although she hated it when they touched the river before she did, she enjoyed paddling by them. Their exchange was similar to that with the neighbor, the knowing smile, the underlying acknowledgment. She paddled alone, they rowed in teams. But it was the same. That sensation of being one with the river, the daily escape, the stolen vacation time before work, and being the only ones to get so close to the loons, so close...

Only they could understand this addiction. This need. This pull. Anybody else rolled their eyes and laughed behind her back. "Only the crazies and the bakers are up before 5 in the morning!"

Today was a special day though. Today was her birthday and she promised herself a different journey on the river. Every day was the same, start off against the current, cross the rowing club quickly gliding down the river, make zigzags through the moored sailboats slowing down by her favorites: The Majestic (she always wondered if he owned a Corvette, you know compensating for other stuff);  The Settlement (a divorced boat owner); That's What She Said (that owner was certainly a fan of The Office);  Weeping Willow (a sad but magical name for a boat) and of course her all time favorite - Restless Soul.

She would not admire these boats today. This was a trip she'd been dreaming of since her first outing on the river. Her friends and family warned her, it would take forever to find her if anything every happened... She was finally taking that anticipated little journey wandering inside the depths of Spider Island. She looked it up on the map, it was a deep U shaped island. She was thrilled and excited. And scared. It also meant her journey started down stream making her return so much more challenging. But she was ready.

She saved her energy and stamina for the struggle against the waves on her return and slowly let her kayak glide down towards the mouth of the island. Her heart was beating a mile a minute. Her palms were sweaty. Or maybe just wet from the splashing of the waves, she didn't care. Her smile was proof of her giddy excitement. What could the inside of the island reveal?

Once she made her way in, her eyes could not open big or wide enough. Fallen trees were dramatically posing halfway in the water propped up by huge rocks. Spiders had webbed their way through the branches, glowing in the early rays of sun, it was... magical. She cursed herself for forgetting her camera. No problem, she vowed to come back again and again.

She looked at her watch, it was getting late. She u-turned and headed back towards the mouth. "Sorry little island, today isn't the day you swallow me..." she quickly decided to turn north and extend her journey by exploring the other side of the island. The side she'd never seen. By then it was past 8:30, the waves were fully awake, the sun was hot and bright and she was out of breath. Much more challenging than she ever thought but she was jazzed from seeing the inside...

She barely had the strength to throw the kayak on top of her car, silently cursing as if the 45-pound kayak had gained weight from this little journey...

She turned the final corner and saw the flashing lights. She almost came to a halting stop when she realized those lights came from her house. "What the...?" Slowly she made her way home, and parked 2 houses down. Police cars, ambulances, fire trucks, the entire emergency crews and units from the city must have been there. "What the hell?" repeated itself over and over like a broken record in her brain.

"Are you Julie Drouin?"
"Yes, but what..."
"Mrs Drouin, you are under arrest for the murder of your husband, anything you say can and will be" her screams interrupted what he'd repeated way too many times to other people.
"What? What the hell are you saying? Wh-what happened?"

***************
This is my Magpie Tale. I am letting you hang because it's fun (insert evil laugh here). And I do apologize for the length of this post. Obviously I miss the days where I paddled out alone on the river... Could you tell?

May Happen

Magpie 36

Leave
just leave
the door open
life
just may happen.

Life
just may happen.

Friends will
come in.
Enemies will
too.

But life
will happen
to you.


****************

This is another Magpie Tale. Not my favorite, consider it still in progress... Not sure. But you get the gist of it and where I want it to go. Thanks for reading it anyways!

Autumn Leaves

Magpie 35

The falling leaves drift by the
window. The autumn leaves
of red and gold. Fifty years
ago, the count of a golden
anniversary you sang that
song and you loved
each other.

C'est une chanson, qui
nous ressemble. Toi tu
m'aimais et je t'aimais.
Fifty years ago, the love
was fresh. The love was
tender. Fifty years ago
the love was. You sang
these words as he played
the music. He accompanied
you and your dance until
the two of you danced
away.

I see your lips, the summer
kisses. The sun-burned
hands I used to hold. And
now I am lost. Where do I
look to, where do I turn
who will ever teach me
to love. Mais la vie
sépare ceux qui s'aiment.
Tout doucement sans
faire de bruit. The sea
will erase the lover's
footsteps, the sea will
erase the lover's breath.

Since you went away, the days
grow long, and soon I'll hear
old winter's song. But I miss
you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start
to fall.

****************************

This, dear friends, is another Magpie Tale. This is the true story of my parents. Early in their relationship, when they still laughed together, they took a trip to New York City. They walked by a recording studio, for a handful of coins they could record their own music. My dad played the piano, my mother sang. "Autumn Leaves" is the first song on the album they recorded together. Decades later, I stumbled upon it by accident. I listened to these songs with tears in my eyes. I had it re-mastered and pulled into the new century of digital music. I wonder how can I be nostalgic for a love I've never known, nor witnessed?

p.s. the lyrics are in italics, my words surround them just like their love I wished had surrounded me...

j'aime la noirceur

You asked me to leave
the light on so you could see
me. Moi, j'aime la noirceur.
I like it when it's dark.

You asked me to leave
the door open so the air could
flow. Moi j'aime la noirceur.
I like it when it's dark.

You asked me to leave
a mark by my kisses
on your skin. I don't
wear lipstick,
my only mark
is my breath.
And I will leave
my mark on you.
And I will leave
my mark in you.
Moi j'aime la noirceur.

I like it when it's dark. But it's
never dark when I am
near you. I will leave you
when you are no longer
my light. Moi j'aime la noirceur.

I like it when it's dark. But when
there is no light, je n'aime plus
la noirceur.

This is another Magpie tale!  If you haven't checked this link out yet, I think it's time you do. Magpie is all about writing. And we all love to write because we all want our words to be read and enjoyed...

Scentimental Thoughts

Magpie 33

I wish
I had
A smelling dog
That could smell
Bed bugs

I wish
I were
A cent
ipede
So I could run
out and buy
All the shoes
I crave
Even 100 pairs
Would only
Last me
2 days

Mmm
You smell
Good
What is that?
Nollie.
I run out
To the nearest
PacSun
He's stunned
When I say
I wish I too
could smell
Like a stripper
and make people
Happy

To this day
Watermelon
Smells of a
wooden mouth
Une geule de bois
Is a hangover.
My dad
Loved watermelon
In the mornings
after
I wish
watermelon
smelled forever
good
to me

is on my hands

****************
This is this week's funky Magpie Tale.  You just gotta try it. Let yourself be inspired by Willow's pic of the week to write a poem, a story, a snippet. It's really inspiring!

The Waiting

The waiting. It's always the waiting that eats her up. Judy never saw this coming. She's never been like this before. Growing up she looked up to her parents.

Growing up was easy. They loved each other. And they loved her. She was an only child but never did she feel alone.  And today she waits. She's not more alone now than she was as a child. But still, she waits. Alone.

Sometimes Harry will call. Leave her a message. Tell her he's coming. Sometimes just to tell her he misses her. Sometimes he just drops by, unannounced. And she waits.

The night is the worst time. Catching glimpses out the window, hoping. If only she could just go there. If only.

Her parents...

She missed them. Misses what they had. If only...

Maybe Harry will sense her loneliness. Maybe Harry will hear her. Maybe tonight is the night Harry will come to her and finally be with her. No more waiting. No more looking out the window in search for his headlights, in search for love.

Somehow, though, she knows. She'll be looking out again...

***********************
This is a Magpie Tale.

A Slow June Day

Yo quiero
Je te veux
Is it good because it's
forbidden?
Or is it forbidden
Because it's (so) good?

Déshabille-moi
Yo quiero
Roll your tongue
Like you roll your r's
All over where
You roll your eyes
Inside of me

You have left
Your scent on me
Like traces of DNA
Yo quiero
I'm hungry
I'm willing
I can still smell you

Déshabille-moi
Undress me
Without touching me
Don't take away
Your eyes
They keep me alive
They keep me warm
Like hot apple pie
On a slow June day

Another Magpie Tale. You know, by reading my stories one could easily think I was quite the sexual person. In all honesty, I don't know where this comes from... Maybe Willow's images evoke a very sensual side of me, a side that is sleeping... Maybe.

Come Home

I live in a house.
But, really, the house lives in me.
The house is me.
I am home.

To know me,
Come into my house.
Walk through my door,
You will be inside me.
You will know,
What's under my skin.

Smell my cooking,
You will feel my breath.
Touch my walls,
You will feel my heart.

My house has
It's own personality.
It talks to me, and
It laughs with you,
When it cracks.

I am on solid foundation.
I will never falter.
I will never fail.
And my house shall,
Always have an open door.

This is Mag 29. Every week we are invited to write a story, a snipped or a poem. This is my 2nd poem... I love writing these short stories. It reminds me of what I loved most of in high school, which was the creative writing our English teachers always asked of us.

Wine With Everything

Magpie Tales #28

Across the street from where I worked was the Café Van Gogh. The district was somewhat of a little Soho in my city. Theaters, galleries, jazz clubs: the funky district. Very logically you should find a café Van Gogh with great art on the walls.

One painting intrigued me. I always sat by it to look at it and think, and daydream. It was a lover's embrace. He bent towards her to kiss her. She pulled back looking away.

What was on her mind? Why did she pull away? Was he just some Don Juan or were his sentiments sincere? Was this just a rendez-vous as her husband was working late, again? Was she having second thoughts? Or was she simply getting ready to take the plunge and risk yet once again having her heart be trampled and broken? Then again, maybe was she gathering the courage to end a long-term relationship...

I wanted to contact the artist and find out what was on her mind?

Obviously I wasn't the only one with such questions.

"Red. I think I will paint my toenails red."

Somebody answered the question for me with a post-it note stuck by her head drawn as a thought bubble.

Considering I was enthralled by this woman in the painting, and a stranger offered me an escape, an answer to all my questions, I accepted the proposition. I immediately walked to the pharmacy around the corner and headed straight to the nail polish aisle. I never knew there were so many shades of red.

I picked what would become my color for the next 10 years. It's all in a name, and this one drew me in: "Wine with everything"  Great shade, great name, a classic choice that will never die.

This is a Magpie Tale. Every week we are invited to write a story, snippet or poem based on an image. I enjoy writing these stories because it encourages me to think outside the box. This is when I write for the simple joy and pleasure of writing. Not that I consider myself as a writer (pronounced writaah, with a whisper) but it's nice to create for myself and not with the intent to impress by some weird freaky story from my past.