Small Talk

Cinderella and Snow White glared at each other. (First line writing prompt)

Small Talk

By Deborah J Lindsey

Cinderella and Snow White glared at each other.

Cinderella took a dainty sip of tea being sure to point her pinky.  She flounced her flounces and smiled sweetly at her guest.

Snow White was such a uppityy-up!  I don’t know why I invited her to tea.  But Cinderella knew why-she wanted to see if Snow White had aged after her long sleep. Cindy could find no trace and she had looked very carefully.  Snow looked just as pert and proper as she had when they were children together in the same story book.

Snow was sizing up her rival too and she wondered if Cindy had baked these raspberry scones herself, No, she finally decided.  She had heard the mice stayed on even after her marriage. She’d heard too that she and the Prince dinned on pumpkin a lot but that was probably just a wild rumor.

“You know Snow, I got these ruby slippers off a good fairy and they are very clickable.”  Cindy stood and clicked the heels together to illustrate her point.  Snow noticed the ruby was wearing right off the slip.  Apparently, Cindy was too fond of demonstrating them and had clicked too many times.

Snow sneered at Cin.  “Well, my slippers are made of fine bear skin and have served me well for more than a thousand years.”

“Well, I’m surprised you even wear foot attire living out in the wilds as you do and your living arrangements leave much to be desired.”

“who has questioned my past?  I’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”

C. grinned an evil grin.  “And how is that fruit company you and your Prince invested in?  Does it prosper?  Apples. Wasn’t it?”

Snow stood up indignantly and prepared to take her leave.

“Thanks for tea C.  Oh, you do recall my story is fifteen pages longer than yours!”

“Well, that’s only because you slept so long.”

C flashed a wicked smile.

“At least my Prince came to find me.  I didn’t have to trap him with see-through slippers.  Glass, weren’t they? Easily broken as I recall.  Oh, you might want to tell your mice cooks, the scones need more fruit.”

**I refuse to apologize for the ruby slippers.  Writers prerogative. J

The Storm Baby

2/13

Description Prompt 
Describe weather you've never seen before. You can make up a new meteorological disaster if you prefer. For example, I've never seen a tsunami or it could rain cats and dogs.

The Storm Baby

By Deborah J Lindsey

“Cassie! Cassie!”  Mama hollered from the back door. Cassie heard Mama perfectly well and she sounded mad. Cassie kept her seat on “Mermaid’s Rock” a few minutes more. Then she closed her book, stood up and looked around.  Something was different. The sun had completely disappeared and now dark clouds were building up in the west. The birds hushed and all of nature was stilled.  The sudden quiet was loud and ominous in Cassie’s ears.

Mama’s voice came again but this time it wasn’t one of anger but frustration and fear. The thunder boomed as Cassie scrambled up the hill from the creek.  

“Hurry Girl, it’s coming up a storm.  Fetch your brothers and I’ll get Grandma.” 

Cassie knew the drill.  She took the hands of the four-year-old twins and headed out the door. Peter, as usual came along without a fuss but Paul, as was his usual, giggled and tugged at the hand that held him.

“Come on Paul! You want to get blowed clean off this place?” Cassie yelled into the little boy’s ear as she attempted to draw him closer to her.

One glance about him was all it took for Paul. his antics ceased and he sent his small feet flying up the path that led to the root cellar. Storms were taken seriously even by the very young in Orion, Oklahoma- “Tornado Alley” some called it.

Cassie struggled hard against the wind that held the heavy wooden doors shut. At last, she managed to get them open and was down the rail ladder in an instant. The twins tumbled in after her and she led them to a place in the back.  She lit a kerosene lamp took down a quilt from the shelf, and tucked it around the little boys Shoulders. 

The root cellar was a lovely place for Cassie.  She spent many hours dreaming and pretending among the fall apples, hanging onions and rows of summer’s harvest neatly packed in jars.

Mama and Grandma were suddenly at the door with their aprons flapping violently in the wind.  Mama helped the frail woman down the stair and guided her to a low stool near the boys. 

“My baby! Oh, my baby. My baby.” 

Grandma began to rock and moan as old memories swept over her.  She had lost a baby during one of these twisters.  The baby had been snatched right out of her arms. His tiny body was found days later and miles away caught in the fork of a tree.  Grandma had never been quite the same since that time and storms as this one, bought it all back to her.

“Where’s the storm baby, Cassie?  Quick, help me look.” Mama shouted over the roar of the wind.

The storm baby was kept in the root cellar for just this type of emergency.  It was the only thing that calmed and comforted Grandma until the storm passed.

“Where’s the storm baby, Cassie?”  Mama asked again frantically searching.

Cassie knew exactly where the storm baby was. 

He was wrapped in his little blue blanket lying in the tall grass by the creek. Cassie had been pretending the story of Moses in the Bull-rush.

© Copyright February, 2017 by Deborah J Lindsey

  …Ella looked happily at the darkening sky.  She pulled on her new red rain boots and twirled her new red and white polka-dot umbrella.  She hoped this storm wouldn’t be a “duck-drowner”.  She loved all creatures and wouldn’t want any ducks hurt…

Sorry about Ella.  She slipped in and refused to leave even after I admired her new rain gear. DJL

Smokey

The challenge was to write a poem about being in love with a robot.
Mine comes from the 1939 World's Fair (His name wasn't Smokey though , it was Elektro.

Smokey

She saw him at the World’s Fair,
He was so amazingly fine!

He was shiny and new,
And had so much to do,
He was a bot ahead of his time.

She watched him inhale and ex,
Puffing out bellows of smoke.
His lungs became rusted,
And he could not be trusted,
She could never love such a dope.

C Copyright February, 2017 By Deborah J Lindsey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AuyTRbj8QSA

Details

Last line prompt:  Even he couldn't bring them together.

Details

By Deborah J Lindsey

They seemed the perfect couple.  He was the star quarterback and she was head cheerleader.  They were sweethearts all their early school days and now into their Senior year they talked of a future life together.  Everyone assumed they would be married at some point.

Cupid watched them with happy interest.  These were his best work and he often boasted to his fellows about them every chance he got.

“You’ve put no work into them!”  His fellows chided him. “You haven’t picked up your bow in many moons and I wonder where your arrows might be?”  He just laughed and said his matches were always perfect, they didn’t need any work.  He saw no need to arrange and plan and putter about with this and that.  Let others weary and worry with pesky details.  Wasn’t he

“Cupid of the year” ten years in a row?   He lay back on his cloud and closed his eyes for a nap.

He slept for a long time as cupids are known to do.  When he awoke, the sweetest day of the year was fast approaching. His first thoughts were of his “perfect couple”. 

They were not so easy to find and sadly, due to his failed attention to details, the couple was not a couple anymore.  The lovely romance had sputtered and died.  It was the little things-the details.  Those smiles and sweet favors, and loving kindness that are so important had dwindled away and soon vanished entirely.   It was too late. Cupid sighed. Even he couldn't bring them together.

C Copyright February, 2017 by Deborah J Lindsey

A Date With Mark Twain

situation prompt:

You're on a date with your favorite author. What do you do?

A Date with Mark Twain

  By Deborah J Lindsey

 I watched him as he stood at the rail of the steamer and gazed into the night.  The shimmering colors in his white suit coat and silver hair caught the moonbeams and sent them dancing across the waves.

 It was Mark Twain!  I was sure of it. 

I retreated to a deck chair and hastily penned a note.  “I’m from Calaveras County and I have a frog in my handbag. I could show him to you at our next stop.”  I drew a heart around my words for effect.  I was all about effect and besides,  it was Valentine’s Day.

I arose and glided over to him.  He stood as before, lost in thought and lost in the night.  I slipped the paper into his vest pocket.  He reached in and removed the note.  He read it and turned to me.  He only nodded and went back to his thoughts.

All passengers were to embark the next morning as we had reached our destination. I registered at the only hotel in town.  After much nervous speculation on what best to wear, at last I came down to the lobby to wait for him.  I primped my hair in the hotel mirror and smoothed invisible wrinkles from my skirt for the hundredth time.  I had dressed with special care, thinking he would most certainly ask me to dine or perhaps even rent a carriage and take in the sights.

Finally, he came down the stairs taking wo at a time.  He wore a worn and frayed riding jacket.  His pants tucked were tucked into a pair of cracked and dusty boots.  He grinned at me and seemed to immensely enjoy the flabbergasted look that must have dominated my face.

When he reached my side, he bowed low and kissed my carefully gloved hand.  He then guided me out through the hotel’s double doors and whispered into my ear.

“Let’s go do some frog jumpin’ Darlin’! The boys is meetin' us at the crick.”

C Copyright February, 2017 by Deborah J Lindsey

Two for Tea

Cinderella and Snow White glared at each other. (First line prompt)

Two for Tea

By Deborah J lindsey

Cinderella took a dainty sip of tea being sure to point her pinky.  She flounced her flounces and smiled sweetly at her guest.

Snow White was such a uppy-up!  I don’t know why I invited her to tea.  But Cinderlla knew-she wanted to see if Snow White had aged after her long sleep. Cindy could find no trace and she had looked very carefully.  Snow looked just as pert and proper as she had when they were children together living in the same story book.

Snow was sizing up her rival too and she wondered if Cindy had baked these raspberry scones herself, No, she finally decided.  She had heard the mice stayed on even after her marriage. She’d heard too that she and the Prince dinned on pumpkin a lot but that was probably just a wild rumor.

“You know Snow, I got these ruby slippers off a good fairy and they are very clickable.”  Cindy stood and clicked the heels together to illustrate her point.  Snow noticed the ruby was wearing right of the slip.  Apparently, Cindy was too fond of demonstrating them and had clicked too many times.

Snow sneered at Cin.  “Well, my slippers are made of fine bear skin and have served me well for more than a thousand years.”

“Well, I’m surprised you even wear foot attire living out in the wilds as you do and your living arrangements leave much to be desired.”

“who has questioned my past?  I’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”

C. grinned an evil grin.  “And how is that fruit company you and your Price invested in?  Does it prosper?  Apples. Wasn’t it?”

Snow stood up indignantly and prepared to take her leave.

“Thanks for tea C.  Oh, you do recall my story is fifteen pages longer than yours!”

“Well, that’s only because you slept so long.”

C flashed a wicked smile.

Snow smiled.

 “At least my Prince came to find me.  I didn’t have to trap him with see through slippers.  Glass,wern’t they? Easily broken as I recall.  Oh, you might want to tell your mice cooks, the scones needed more fruit.”

C Copyright  February, 2017 by Deborah J Lindsey

The Violin

Miss Alice Decides

Style prompt:

Write a romantic comedy in the style of Lewis Carroll. Give us 100-500 words.

Miss Alice Decides

 By Deborah J Lindsey

Who’s it to be Miss Alice?

Him or me?

Tweedle Deedle Dum

or me-

Tweedle Deedle Dee?”

Alice stared betwixt them

And then she stared between

Could these poor fellows be serious?

Surely it was but a dream?

Four eyes peered at her

These Tweedle Deedle Twins

She could scarcely tell which was who

Or what was wisp or whim.

Marry us Sweet Alice!

Please won’t you tell?

We could dine quite fine

on oysters,

spread half upon the shell.

Take us both or only one

Please choose, for we most know

For track or train or rain in Spain

Do not Deedle Dwaddle so.

Dear Sirs, I do beg your pardon,

I do not mean to be so cocky,

I will marry neither Dee nor Dum

For I love the Jaberwocky.

C Copyright February, 2017 by Deborh J Lindsey

My Sister's Wolf

My Sister's Wolf

By Deborah J Lindsey

My Sister and I are 8 years apart. I am the oldest and she is the youngest with 3 brothers in between.
Back in those far-off days of wood burning stoves, cow milking and butter churning, we shared a bed. I admit to being a cruel sister. This memory popped up the other day from somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind.

I invented this imaginary wolf. He was big as a house and his fur was black as night and he had horrible iron teeth that could make a quick work of anything or anyone. The best part about this beast was that he was totally devoted to me. All I h ad to do was call and he would be at my side in an instant ready to do my bidding.

I was cruel. I admit it. I threatened my poor Sis with this beast and she became my slave. She wouldn’t tell for fear I would set this monster on other members of the family. I had an easy time for a while but then one day, my resourceful Sis conjured up a wolf of her own.

Her wolf was far more superior than mine-bigger, stronger and meaner. Hers was a better fighter too and could tear my wolf in pieces in one second.

My pathetic, cowardly wolf shrank back in the dark place from which he had come. I don’t know what happened to Sis’ wolf but I suspect he is still out there somewhere lurking just waiting for her to call him. love you Sis.

C Copyright February, 2017 by Deborah J Lindsey

written in response to a writing prompt about brothers and sisters.

The Singing Rabbit

The Singing Rabbit

By Deborah J Lindsey

It was singing rabbit!  An opera singing rabbit!  I’m not a true fan of opera – but it was a singing rabbit!  Of course, I wanted one, or two if possible.  I became aware of this commercial many years ago, and discovered it again just last night.  The memories engulfed me. There she was!  Still singing opera.  How incredible is the shelf life of things on U-Tubed! 

I was young and more foolish in those far-off days. I had wild visions of never having to worry about money.  I’d be rich, living on Easy Street, rolling in the proverbial dough as it were.  No one I knew or ever heard of had a singing rabbit.  The demand would be huge!  People would pay any amount to see and hear her sing. 

So. After investing all my living in this candy company who apparently owned this marvelous singer and renting many opera halls and countless orchestras to play accompaniment to this diva when she was mine, I was sorely disappointed.

I hardily searched. I even went to the super bowl where I heard many famous commercials were aired.  I met a fellow there from Oregon, as I recall.  He listened intently to my sad tale as he leaned on his push broom.  I noticed his eyes seemed to glaze over and he began to tell me about a singing frog. Well, I’m not partial to frogs so I only half-listened.  He did make me an offer of a lifetime, he said, as part owner of this frog. He said he had him in his truck.  Well. I wasn’t born yesterday and certainty not in a turnip patch.  I doubt if he had a frog or a truck either for that matter. I made my exit quickly.

Finally, an investigator I hired found the fellow who had owned my dream.  He said the singer was lost one dark and stormy night.  The man claimed the rabbit bit him and escaped into the darkness and was never seen again. I thanked the investigator and paid him his remaining fee.  He bowed and stuffed the cash into his shabby pocket.  Half-way down the walk, he turned and sauntered back to me. Since, I was such a lovely client he said, he would let in on some property that had just come on the market. He said it was in a swamp but could be easily drained if need be.

 I smiled and shook my head and excused myself having many rabbits to attend to.  I explained that I had acquired about a dozen white rabbits thinking perhaps one of them on the off chance might be my “Star”.  I had named them all “Star” of course. but I soon became confused so I was forced to add numbers to the name.  

 “Star Number 9” seemed to have great potential as she thumped loudly when I played Aida and Carmen but “Number 9” turned out to be a boy so   I halted his training.

Even though, I never got rich with a singing rabbit, I did become famous.  Well, in a small way.  I became known as “The Rabbit Lady of Greenwood.”  I discovered that I loved rabbits and successfully rescued many sad “Easter Bunnies” that foolish impulsive parents had purchased for naughty children.

I still dream of my Diva Dream Rabbit.  Perhaps, she is still out there somewhere.  Her commercial debut is. J

Here is her commercial

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eA5Imj2GBss