Fractured

Photo A.M. Moscoso

We all know at least one child like Diwa Bell – some of us may have been like her in temperament ( quiet, thoughtful and well mannered to a fault ) and could be counted on- even at the young age of 11 to get her homework done and her bed made without being asked.

She feeds her pets at the same time each day, she gives them fresh water and leaves a post it on the refrigerator door to her parents attention when they are running low on food and she can be counted on to do last minute tasks for her Aunts and Uncles or important tasks like helping her Grandmother with chores at her house.

Last Saturday one of Diwa’s Aunties was supposed to take Grandmother Maria her weekly ‘care package artfully packed inside of a lunch box cooler.

As usual, Inside the sturdy little cooler with happy smiling turtles marching around the sides, was homemade butter with strawberries stamped on the top of the little golden ball, pink salt ( Diwa didn’t get that, it tasted like salt but the  color was pretty ) a selection of homemade fruit flavored salsas and thin water biscuits.

And of course there was always a selection of macaroons in Grandmother’s favorite colors- pink and purple.

Auntie Hyacinth was like Diwa, thoughtful, kind and well mannered to a fault and her baskets were always picture perfect.

On this particular Saturday  one of Auntie’s neighbors had an issue with her car and Diwa found a post it on the fridge door Saturday morning  asking if she wouldn’t mind stopping by Grandmother’s to drop off the care package and maybe spend a little time with Grandmother.

Diwa made a little note under the message and told her Mother she was off for the day and would be home before dinner, she stuck it to the door and went upstairs to get ready and a little while later she set out for Grandmother’s House.

There were two pluses to walking to Grandmother’s House.

One was that the walk wasn’t very long and second Diwa had to pass by a lot of gardens full of flowers and fake wells stuffed with more flowers and of course there were the fake deer and gnomes,  frogs ( the frogs were usually wearing crowns ), rabbits ( standing next to baskets of carrots )  and plastic Virgin Marys and Lawn Jockeys  galore.

Diwa loved those still, quiet and attentive plastic creatures, she always hoped against hope one of them would twitch an eye or move just a teeny tiny bit and the- well, Diwa wasn’t sure about the ” and then ” part but she it didn’t play in her thoughts.

For very long.

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Grandmother’s house was the nicest little house on her street.

It looked like a little cottage from a Christmas card and almost everthing in side of it- including the curtains that hung in the windows which Grandmother always kept open just a crack, even in the dead of winter.

Diwa gave three quick little taps on the door and pushed it open and she stood there waiting for Grandmother’s cheery hello- but the house was quiet, it smelled wonderful because today was the day Grandmother did her baking, but it was so quiet.

” Is that you Diwa?” Grandmother called from the back of the house ” I’m sorry sweetness, I had a very big night and I took a little nap.”

Diwa went to the kitchen and set her basket down- she resisted the urge to take  peak in the oven to see what Grandmother had planned for lunch because Grandmother had strict rules about opening the oven door when she was baking or roasting. It affected the cooking she said.

” Grandmother, what are you baking? It smells so- ” Diwa thought for a moment ” It smells so tasty. Is it chicken?”

She went out to the hallway that led to the back of the house and for a minute or two Diwa looked as still and carefully placed as one of the yard statues she enjoyed watching so much.

” Darling, come on back here will you? I need some help getting up. I’m a little stiff, like I said I had a very big night.”

Grandmother’s bedroom was a warm and cozy as the rest of Grandmother’s house and as always it smelled faintly of apples.

She was laying on her bed and her eyes were closed but she opened them when Diwa appeared at the door.

” There she is, there’s my lovely girl.”

Diwa smiled and went to her Grandmother’s side and looked down into her face.

” Grandmother, your eyes look so red, have you been crying?”

” No, no, I was out so late and they are just a bit tired and old like me. But they are still sharp my lovely. I can see you perfectly and right now, that is all that matters”

Diwa reached down and with one finger pushed a lock of hair away from her Grandmother’s brow and behind her ear ” Grandmother, those are such pretty earrings I’m glad you wore them today.  ”

” I wore them just for you. I know how fond you are of the Moon and the stars. You’re a romantic, just like me.”

Then Grandmother smiled and Diwa gasped. ” You have such a great smile Grandmother. It lights up the room.”

Grandmother sat up and swung her legs over the bed. ” Now my darling, it’s lunch time and I am very hungry. I’ve been in the mood for something special, something a little rich and it most certainly not is chicken. In fact, I was up all night putting it together.”

Diwa reached down to help her Grandmother up. ” What did you make?”

Grandmother leaned down and whispered into her ear, ” I’ve made Shepherds Pie. And if I timed it right he should be ready for us by now.”

Photo A.M. Moscoso

 

Inspired By The SFC Prompt: Fractured Fairy Story

Death By Meridian

Inspired By The SFC Prompt: Catharsis

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How

did I end up

on that hill

with Bubbas in giant trucks and Walmart hovering above me like a spaceship waiting to fire it’s deadly weapons upon a sleeping population.

How

did I end up

on that hill

where instead of hearing symphonies and exploring parks filled with trees and blue and green benches and quiet side streets where sometimes wind chimes sing, I hear the endless cries of ” GIT HER DUN ” from boys in camo shirts and ZZ Top beards and the all purpose reply of ” I know right ” from women who drift around in a haze of Aqua Net and dollar store perfume.

How

did I end up

on that hill

Did I die in my sleep, was I hit by a car, did I trip and fall down the stairs

am I dead

am I

in Hell?

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Raison d’être

From The Bancroft Project: Creating Character Dossiers-Establishing Blocks of Time. To add to our dossiers we worked with the concept of blocks of time and pathways chosen, blocked, travelled, and bypassed. We also considered others whose paths crossed ours or the path of our characters-

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” I have all the time in the world.” the Ghost said to herself as she stood, or more specifically,  as she floated a little above her empty Grave.

Even though she knew she was alone there in her spot above her empty Grave where nobody had left her flowers for so many years she had lost count, she waited for a reply.

Of course there wasn’t one.

There never was.

” I have all the time in the world to decide what kind of ghost I could be. ” the Ghost said firmly and the place where her eyes would be seemed to glow a bit and the place where her jaw would had it not been covered by a  shroud of light blue haze, looked a little firmer.

The Ghost thought about her options for a moment. ” I could be a vicious ghost and throw things around and push people down stairs and scare cats and dogs-well. Not scare exactly but I can  make them puff up and growl.

Or I could be a nice ghost and when I show up people would smell things like freshly baked cookies or flowers. Actually. I wasn’t exactly a nice person so that probably isn’t going to happen at all.”

The Ghost looked down into her empty Grave and then her misty face swirled like fog rolling from the sea up to the beach and when the mist settled down she was smiling.

” I know, I could be one of those ghosts that shows up when bad things are going to happen. I could make myself look like a cat or a big black dog or a black as coal rabbit with fiery red eyes. Now that sounds like the ticket, doesn’t it? The possibilities for what I could do there are only limited by my imagination- which as we both know was pretty wild monster back in my day. I mean, that’s how we ended up together after all.”

Her empty Grave, as dark and inscrutable as ever offered no opinion.

It never did.

She sighed and her misty face broke apart.

 

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” I have all the time in the world.” the Ghost said to herself above her empty Grave when nobody was listening because nobody was ever there.

Even though the Ghost knew she was alone there in her spot above her empty Grave where nobody had left her flowers for so many years she had lost count, she waited for a reply.

This time she got one, in fact, this time she got several.

She swirled in confusion, a light blue mist hanging above her empty Grave because something behind her roared and to her left,   dead rose bushes  snapped and fell to the ground which was a riot of sticker bushes and weeds and chunks or marble and concrete.

The roar was gone and after a few bangs and thumps she heard someone say not very clearly, ” yes I’m sure it doesn’t matter if we dig around here. We might find a few bones or maybe some wood but who cares?”

The Ghost followed the voices  with her almost non-existent eyes and saw that the voices  belonged to two men with shovels.

They chose a spot and begin to dig into her empty Grave and after several hours they seemed satisfied with their work. They went away and came back many  times with black bags- several in fact and after looking at each other for a minute one said to the other. ” Lunch at The Oak Tree  on Main Street after?’

The other man said, “Sounds good. Their burgers really  hit the spot”

Unceremoniously they began to drop the black, lumpy and in some cases leaking black bags into her empty Grave.

Then they filled it.

They were not acting like they had all of the time in the world.

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” So  now you have a purpose, . ”  the Ghost said to her dark and inscrutable Grave. How tragic is that? My empty Grave has a raison d’être and I don’t. ”

Had she had  lungs she would have taken a deep breath  before she screeched- so she just skipped to the screeching part, ” My entire situation is ridiculous and intolerable!”

This time she felt like her dark and inscrutable formally empty Grave was listening to her.

The ghost simmered and then she snapped together atom by atom, nightmare by nightmare and when she was done her eyes were fiery red and she was covered with dark silky fur.

Then she hopped over her once Empty and inscrutable Grave and she went to start her own  reason for being and her little black nose quivered with excitement.

 

The Puzzle

Guided Imagery Prompt: Paradise Found

Meditate upon Milton’s Sonnet XX and consider how your light is spent; who you must serve. Peek through the doorway of Milton’s cottage, glimpse paradise and write about ‘Paradise Found’.

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It’s a puzzle to me

how it is that I broke into so many pieces

how it was that my pieces were scattered and lost

in such a small space.

 

Some of the pieces that I found were bright and looked brand new

others were bent and twisted, their markings rubbed away

a few seemed to be hiding in the cracks in the floor, wedged and hiding

in dusty wooden drawers

swollen shut with mold, wood rot and decay.

How did they get in there I wondered, not wanting to touch them

not wanting to think about them

I wish they would go away I’m not sure they can be saved.

 

I did try to gather up  as many pieces as I could,  I tried to put them together

I tried to make them look like a picture, I wanted them to tell a story

I wanted to put them in a frame and hang them from a wall and I wanted

them to shine like the other puzzles I’ve seen sitting next to me on the bus,

or eating dinner with me at family gatherings, or puzzles I’ve called husband or friends.

 

But there are so many pieces of me scattered in such a small space

I’d like to arrange them so that they would make sense.

But where do I start?

The most overwhelming, the most terrifying thought of all?

What will it look like

when I am done?

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