You're Late

“You’re late”

I blink my eyes in shock. “I’m sorry, what?”

The stuffed rabbit looks at me sternly. “You’re late.” He repeats. “As in, not on time.”

            “I, I know what late means, but I don’t know what I’m late for.” I try to explain. “You wouldn’t mind telling me, would you?”

            “Yes, yes we would mind.” A different voice replies. “You’re being very rude.” The voice turns out to belong to a small green frog with a French accent.

            “Oh, don’t be so harsh on the child.” an old woman says. She is very beautiful, with has laugh lines on her face and very long, shimmering white hair in which she wears in a golden circlet like a tiara.

            “I’ll do what I want,” a raggedy white stuffed dog says indignantly, “she forgot all about us!”

            “I’m sorry, who are you, um, people?” At the annoyed looks from the animals, I add, “Sorry, animals.”

            The dog gives me the smallest of smiles. “S’all right.” she says. “Let us get reacquainted, then.” She nods to the rabbit, which sighs.

            “All right, then. The name’s Rabbit. Bunny Rabbit.” He gestures to the frog to speak.

            “I should not have to introduce myself!” He yelps. “I am a prince!”

            I start to laugh. “I remember you! Jean Bob, right? From that show I used to watch as a kid? Um, Swan Princess, right?”

            Jean Bob nods gratefully. “See, see? She remembers me because I am important!”

            I start to reply, but don’t. If I recall correctly, nothing can get through that thick skull of his.

            The old woman smiles fondly at me. “I am Princess Irene.” She says regally. Oh. That explains the crown, then.

            The dog looks at me. “I’m Oddball. You named me after the white Dalmatian puppy from the movie.”

            I frown in concentration. “I named you… OH! Now I remember you guys!” I point to Oddball and Rabbit. “You two were my favorite stuffed animals as a kid, and you two-“ here I point to Jean Bob and Irene “-were from the two movies I watched the most. You’re my childhood memories!”

            They all nod, but now I can feel myself being pulled away from then. I’m about to call out, but suddenly-

            I open my eyes with a jolt. Stretching, I get out of bed and head downstairs where my mom was making breakfast.

            “How’d you sleep?” She asks me.

            I yawn. “I had the weirdest dream last night.” I tell her.

            “Hmm? What about?”

            I scrunch up my face in thought. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Helium Balloons

Latex bulging, stretching thin,

Giggles lighter than air,

Lips sucking cold air from within

Sipping away with no care

No cares in a young world

Air is slipping fast,

Through the nose it goes

Hilarity does not last,

The Mick-Mouse sound

Returns to the norm

Suddenly, an idea

A GENIUS idea,

Forms in one’s mind

To plug her nose

No air may escape now!

Bad idea, there

Eyes roll back into head,

CONK! On the bench it hits!

She freaks when she sees the blood.

Some superglue, and she’s fine.

Helium balloons pass by me,

I laugh now

At the memory

No long-term effects

She swam in a lake the next day

Pillow Talk

I know you, and you know me

I’m your pillow, you see!

I know your hopes and dreams,

I know your fears and tears.

I’ve been with you for as long as you know

I’ve watched you grow, and

Everything changed when you grew older,

And I remained the same

Sure, I have new clothes,

But I haven’t been replaced

And now I’m growing old,

You take comfort in me no longer

You say I’m lumpy and have no shape

And now this new guy
Is taking my place

Life is a Maze

Life is maze,

With twists and turns waiting around every corner,

Leading you on blindly

You get lost, and find yourself once more,

But when you get to the end, happiness awaits

Women in the Garden

This poem was written as part of my English assignment, but I liked it. Enjoy!

I see the women in the garden

Grouped together in the shade,

Surrounded by the grass and trees,

Seeking refuge from the streaming light

The smell of hot, dry dirt fills my nose

The warmth of the sun caresses my face

Maybe This Should Stay Between Us: a Short Story

You know that feeling that you get when you just know something is wrong? Like there’s something that you can’t see, but you know it’s out there? Yeah, that’s how I’m feeling as I stare down at this girl, maybe nineteen years old, laying on her back in the grass.

She’s dead, by the way.

You may be wondering why I’m looking at a dead body. Don’t worry; I don’t have some weird fetish. I’m a detective, a police detective. This is my job. I get to find out who, what, when, where, and why a person ended up in the morgue. It doesn’t seem like it would be a very fun job, but it is. Well, not the dead person part, but I love solving a case, or just the thrill I get when I chase down bad guys.

Not that I really get to do it very often, of course. Crystal Haven is just so quiet. Nothing really goes on here, unless you count the sale Wal-Mart had last weekend.

Oh, how rude of me; I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Samantha Spencer, but most people call me Sam. I’ve only been a detective for about three years, but so far I’ve done pretty well for myself. At least, that’s what my partner, Head Detective Alexander Burnes, tells me. He’s a great guy.

Anyway, back to the body. I didn’t see anything wrong with it, other than the fact that she was dead, but she did have a look of pure shock and pain on her face.

“Do we know what happened here?” Burnes asks the analyzer, a guy named Parker.

He shrugs. “It’s hard to tell. We do have an ID, though.” He holds up a wallet open to the girls drivers license that is in an evidence bag. “Victims name’s Katherine Globe, twenty years old. Her card tells us that she’s had a history of heart problems, but we can’t rule that as a cause of death quite yet.”

“Well, we can’t rule it out, either.” Burnes says with a roll of his eyes.

“How about we head over to the morgue to talk to Carl?” I suggest.

“In a minute,” Burnes tells me, “I want to check out the area around the body.”

I nod and follow him. Nothing about this girl is too unusual, I note. Brown hair, shoulder length, grey eyes, average height and weight. Crime scene tape surrounds the area around her.

After a while, it gets uncomfortable staring at her, so I choose to look at the grass instead. I’m glad I do, because I notice something really weird: there’s a pattern in the grass.

“Burnes,” I call, motioning him over with my hand, “come look at this.” I study the grass some more. It made a weird shape, sort of like this:

~øº~øº~øº~øº~

And it goes around in a circle, all around the body.

“Is that… a crop circle?” Burnes asks me, his face pale and his voice strained.

I nod. “Do you think we should tell the Chief?” I ask wryly. “After all, aliens as a cause of death. We won’t sound crazy at all.” Note my heavy use of sarcasm

 “Maybe this should stay between us,” he says, “we’ll let them know the victim died of a heart attack.”

I nod in agreement. “I wouldn’t like to be locked up in the loony bin, that’s for sure.” I say, and we head off to type up our reports.

Maybe if we had stayed a moment longer, we would have noticed a gray-skinned figure fade into sight next to the body, before it disappeared in a beam of light.

~Fin~

Old Crystal Haven: a Short Story

This is another short story that I did with the plot generator. It was...strange to say the least. Enjoy!

Aaron Hawk was thinking about Michelle Bault again. Michelle was a wild whirlwind with red hair and freckled face.
Aaron walked over to the window and reflected on his wild surroundings. He had always hated old Crystal Haven with its pong, powerless parks. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel amused.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a wild figure of Michelle Bault.
Aaron gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a bold, rash, hot chocolate drinker with black hair and pale face. His friends saw him as a high, hissing heir. Once, he had even helped a burnt newborn kitten cross the road.
But not even a bold person who had once helped a burnt newborn kitten cross the road, was prepared for what Michelle had in store today.
The rain hammered like running cat, making Aaron angry. Aaron grabbed an old pillow that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.
As Aaron stepped outside and Michelle came closer, he could see the gentle glint in her eye.
"I am here because I want revenge," Michelle bellowed, in a strong willed tone. She slammed her fist against Aaron's chest, with the force of 6458 raven. "I frigging love you, Aaron Hawk."
Aaron looked back, even more angry and still fingering the old pillow. "Michelle, you're not very scary," he replied.
They looked at each other with annoyed feelings, like two odd, old-fashioned owl yelling at a very firey party, which had 80's music playing in the background and two annoying uncles lecturing to the beat.
Suddenly, Michelle lunged forward and tried to punch Aaron in the face. Quickly, Aaron grabbed the old pillow and brought it down on Michelle's skull.
Michelle's red hair trembled and her freckled face wobbled. She looked disappointed, her body raw like a panicky, powerless phone.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Michelle Bault was dead.
Aaron Hawk went back inside and made himself a nice mug of hot chocolate.
THE END