By The Lily Pond

Light Motifs II Thursday Inspiration 49-SHARP

Photo A.M. Moscoso

The  two women in brightly colored hiking gear  were walking on a trail through a sunny park named after a Priest.

The Sun was shining in a cloudless sky and it was warm- warm enough for the two of them to break a little sweat but not so warm that they had to break out their water bottles.

They strolled by  a pond full of lily pads and frogs, further down the trail there was another pond where a family of ducks swam in leisurely circles and dog walkers passed by them and smiled wide beautiful smiles.

The dogs.

Not the people.

” I can show you were the monsters live ” she told her friend who’s name is Tabitha.

Tabitha stopped and decided to play along with her friend’s joke. ” No way. No way do monsters live here. It’s to- it just to beautiful for them.”

” Well. There is a lot of room for-” her voice trailed off and she put her hand to her throat.

Tabitha thought that the flush she saw raising up from her friend’s neck to her cheeks was from the heat. She supposed it had gotten to her a little. ” For what? ” she laughed.

Felicity’s face turned red and little beads of sweat popped out on her cheeks.

” Here. Have some water,  you look a little warm.”

Felicity shook her head. ” Oh no. It’s not that. I just feel a little foolish. What a thing for an adult to say. I’m so embarrassed.  I was just being-”

” Fanciful?” Tabitha offered as she started back up the trail.

Felicity let her friend walk a little ahead of her and when Tabitha was a few feet away, Felicity reached behind her back and pulled something off of her belt clip.

Tabitha heard a sharp metal click and guessed Felicity was going to have that drink of water after all.

” Monsters wouldn’t live here. Too many mosquitos and who needs the competition? Felicity asked. ” It is a nice little hike all the same. Like I said, there’s lots of room to pretty much do whatever you want. Anyway,  I could use a snack right now. Is that ok?”

Tabitha was going to answer, in fact she tried to-

but the cut that Felicity  made on the front of Tabitha’ neck from ear to ear after she snuck up behind her, bumping into Tabitha just a little bit as she grabbed the back of her head by her ponytail, made it impossible for her to say anything at all.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

#lightm0tifs

Mr Gale’s Funeral

Fandango’s Friday Flashback-Wouldn’t you like to expose your newer readers to some of you earlier posts that they might never have seen? Or remind your long term followers of posts that they might not remember?

From my achieves- I actually wrote this in February of 2018 but didn’t post it until Halloween of 2018 I named one of the characters after my Aunt Irene. She would have approved.

amm

We met to plan the final details for Mr. Gale’s Funeral in a spot behind the Gale Family home where Mrs. Gale had planted an extensive and lovely garden.

It was the beginning of fall and the leaves had just started to drop from the trees.

” Just treat it like any other traditional  Funeral, ” his wife told me  as we strolled slowly along the garden path. ” Flowers, candles maybe someone can read poem and can you recommend a Minster? I suppose we need one of those.”

I assured her I could see to all of these details.

” I am so glad to hear that Irene, this is such a trying time you know.”

” I do and I’m very glad I could help.”

Mrs. Gale leaned over and whispered into my ear. ” I am curious dear, how it came that you decided to become-” she was at a loss for the word which is not unusual in times like this.

I patted her arm. ” It’s the family business.”

Mrs. Gale  smoothed her hair which had been tussled by the light breeze and then walked over to her husband’s casket and put her gloved hand on it, somewhat cautiously. ” Oh Dear, I almost forgot. Music. Can we have music-”

The thudding and screaming resumed from inside the sealed casket.

” In case he starts up with that again ” sighed the soon to be widow.

The Caller

Fandango’s February Expressions #26:
Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t

If he knocks, does she have to open the door?

Does she have to let him in, offer him tea and a seat near the living room window

next to the fireplace?

That’s her favorite place to sit, there are Jade plants in the window and the radio is in the corner. The radio has an eye on the center of it’s face. It closes when the radio signal is weak.

It hasn’t worked for ages, she wasn’t even sure people used radios anymore.

Focus she told herself. Focus!

She needed to decide and she needed to decide now because she was sure he was

going to knock on her door and that he was going to ask to come in and of course the

polite thing to do would be to offer him something warm to drink, it was so cold outside.

She went to the door, she flicked the light switch and the pale warm lights from the ceiling winked off and her wall papered walls ( faded gold birds flying towards the ceiling, sad they would never make it she thought when she looked at it )  and her furniture and paintings of lakes and flowers painted by long gone hands winked out too.

Of course she didn’t have to let him in, she doesn’t have to offer him something to drink

to take the chill out of his bones. She isn’t responsible for his comfort, for what he wants or feels.

She put her hand on the door, it was cool to the touch- or maybe it was just her. She was always cold. She was always worried about not doing the right thing. Her hand slid to the door knob and she turned it just as she heard the beginning of the knock that she dreaded would come.

Thump. Thu-

She turned the knob, she pulled open the door and the empty Night stood at her door politely, waiting to be invited in and offered tea and a seat next to the window with her Jade plants and the radio with the eye in the center of it’s face.

” Why do you always come here, why do  you always come to me? ” Death asked the night.

The Night didn’t answer- it never did but she let it in like she always does and probably always will because sometimes when you are faced with darkness or you are darkness itself it’s better to choose to face it with someone you know then to face it with someone you don’t know at all.

Eternity is such a long time.

 

#FFE

Missing

SFC CHOCOLATE BOX PROMPT: LATE LATE ONE NIGHT-Write after peeping through the door of Memory

Photo A.M. Moscoso

There was just enough pale white light filtering through the single cracked and dust stained basement window for Fia to see that she was in trouble.

The room Fia was standing in was dark and unfinished.  Stacked in the middle of the room were shovels a saw and rotted planks of  wood. Next to that was a pile of rusty  nails coated with the remains of the box that held them at one time and two flashlights.

She didn’t bother to see if they worked.

The  floor was hard packed  earth.  The bricks walls were covered with moss and green slime and the ceiling- once supported by strong wooden beams were now being held up by twist and a magical shift in gravity because she doubted if the sticky mats of spiders webs were doing the trick.

Fia spent a very long time looking into the dark corner near the window and eventually she decided too look for the door because there had to be one.

Right?

Right.

It wasn’t that it was to dark to see if there was a door. What took up her time were the minutes- maybe hours it is not outside othe realm of possibilities to say it may have been days to fully realize the one simple fact.

There wasn’t a door and if there had been one it was gone now and Fia wondered who could have taken it away.

Somebody must have, doors just don’t get up and walk away.

Fia walked the small room along the edges close to the wall and then she crossed it from the middle and as she paced the room and realized that the small window was the only way in or out she did wonder how she managed to make her way in through such a small space,

The little bit of light that made it’s way to Fia was gone and then it was back and she heard  a voice at the window.  At first Fia thought somebody was talking to her  but before she could make a sound t she heard another voice answer the first.

Fia stepped away from the window and into the darkest corner of the room. She didn’t assume that the voices belonging to the people outside of the window were there to help her.

She held her breath.

Maybe they were the reason she was down here.

She hugged the wall and moved towards the window, she didn’t flinch when the window cracked and parts of it rained down on top of her head.

A cold breath of air slithered down the window and wrapped itself around Fia’s  face, it slid over her shoulders and down her back.

The cool touch woke her up and her eyes opened wide  and she took a step away from the window.

” Hey, look!” one of the voices cried out ” I think there’s a room down there. It’s probably  the basement of the house that used to be here.”

Fia crouched.

” Do you think there’s any thing down there?”

Fia was sure there was something down there and she was also very sure it wasn’t a good idea-

to let her out.

 

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-

Photo by Moose Photos on Pexels.com

” 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.

 

Photo by Moose Photos on Pexels.com

” 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.

Photo by Moose Photos on Pexels.com

” 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.

 

Good Anita Marie…Good Job!

When I know I’m being hard on myself or the people around me I have found a great way to approach and change this less then attractive and mean spirited aspect of my personality.

I pretend like I’m dealing with my dog.

I have infinite patience with my dog, I never say mean things to my dog, I approach my daily relationship with my dog  and all it entails ( ha, ha, entails, get it? ) with positive energy instead of dark and fierce negative  Jupiter force windstorm  speed ( they clock them at 384 miles per hour) type energy.

When I’m with my dog, my phone is never with arms reach and when we are out I never answer it or use it unless he does something super cute and I need a picture of it to share with my Facebook friends who like Hamish more then me.

I’m actually okay with that because he IS  pretty darn awesome.

When I envision what the best Anita Marie is like, I go full circle and at each point in that circle see a different Anita Marie with all her various talents and entertaining sideshow type quirks,  I always want to land on and be the person who has learned to be a better human from her dog.

That person is actually a good person. I’m proud to know her.

So if it can be said about me that I treat my friends and family like a dog- I will know with absolute certainty, I’ve done good.

amm

Daily Addictions Prompt: Circle