Quiet Resolve

The snow gone from the ground, springtime sounds and scents blanketed her world. Her crumpled up list of resolutions lay dusty in that corner. The wrinkles of the paper secreting wishes and hopes made hastily, like pudding. The wrinkles of the paper, like the wrinkles of her face, revealing a wisdom acquired over time...understanding that winter is not a good time for change.

Tis a Hopeful Season

It was Christmas Eve 1934. Large snowflakes were gently drifting downward to the streets of Manhattan. The stores were closing early, the sidewalks bustling with last minute shoppers. Albert had been a Macy's Santa going on ten years. He and his wife Katherine had truly epitomized "Mr. and Mrs. Klaus", bringing as much year-round joy to all as they possibly could. They owned a small grocery on Amsterdam, and had provided food to those in need since the crash of '29.

Christmas for Albert was different this year. Dear Katherine had unexpectedly passed away in April. Albert had quickly drifted into depression, and took to the 'drink'. His robust laughter as the children sat on his lap masked an enormously deep sadness.

As he exited the side door of Macy's, he retrieved the flask from his pocket, and took a long draw from the narrow opening. The warmth of the whiskey would keep him warm on his long walk home to the lonely apartment above the store on Amsterdam.

He decided to take a different route home, walking north along busy 5th Ave. As he crossed 53rd he could hear the rich sound of the St. Thomas Church organ accompanied by hundreds of voices inside..."Away in a manger..." A small voice told him to "go inside". So, Albert, the once happy, now sad, white bearded fat man rolled through those church doors...perhaps the right doors at the right time.

This is my Christmas Day installment of the prompted, creative writing exercise, Saturday Centus. The prompt is the bold italicized part.

Peace and blessings, with hopes for better days ahead.

Namaste, jeff c...

Amanae

As Elven lives go, Amanae's had been quite remarkable. Born to revered and powerful parents (her father of the Dwinghymn House, her mother of Tyrmitore ancestry), she had walked a path of remarkable beauty and wisdom. Simply, Amanae's presence and powers were unsurpassed. There was but one thing left for her to do in life...mate with a human. The child from such a union would possess great knowledge and power and would rise to prominence in her 'House'. This life goal could mean her demise, but after long and careful consideration, she knew it was her destiny.

Amanae walked down Mulberry Street to a brightly lit house on the corner of Elm. Inside the Stewarts were hosting the annual Mulberry St. Christmas costume block party. As Amanae entered through the foyer, all eyes turned, gazing on her radiant beauty. She at once knew that finding a Nieve would be easy. As she entered the living room, she heard the rather snippy Ellen Jones whisper to Ann Lewis, " what was she thinking? OMG! Elves are so 2009." Amanae thought to herself, "Eshui'du, yes 2009, the year before that and the centuries before that. This night was going to be fun."

Elven glossary:

Amanae...beautiful whisper

Dwinghymn...walkers in the forgotten ways

Tyrmitore...mistresses of the moon

Nieve...lover

Eshui'du...dumbass

From the Red-Shoe Diaries

Time once again for Saturday Centus. I am a bit late in posting, and as usual a bit over my 100 word limit. I am doomed to fail this class! Nonetheless, I forge ahead, seeking forgiveness for my academic shortcomings. The prompt for this week is in bold italics. The remainder is from the caverns of my mind.

It had been a little over a year since I'd last visited Auntie Nell. My work in San Francisco was far too consuming, leaving me little time for the true pleasures of life. Nell and I shared many pleasures;our unique shared fondness for shoes was front and center. While she was affectionately known as the "Imelda Marcos of Manhattan", I was less affectionately known as the chick with too many shoes. Deep down I knew they were just jealous.

Nell's passing had come as a bit of a shock. I would now be left with only the sweet sadness of memories, and countless pairs of shoes we had picked out together...save one pair that never made it back to San Francisco...an exquisite pair of bright red snakeskin, pointed-toe, Jimmy Choo pumps. Where they had gone remained a mystery.

I entered the Greenwich Village Funeral Home and went directly to Nell's viewing room. I requested to see her sweet, loving face one last time. In keeping with her often outrageous approach to life...and death, she had requested to be interred in a custom built, Bergdorf Goodman shoebox-shaped casket. An involuntary gasp of shock escaped my lips when I opened the 'shoebox' and saw the pointy-toed shoes...those bright red Jimmy Choos that would forever be in my memories...but not on my feet.

What's In a Horoscope?

Another Saturday has arrived and with it another glorious opportunity to explore my creative writing wherewithal. Yes, its Saturday Centus time...a time when we are given a writing prompt, and are put to task to write a 100 word or less response. This week's theme is Daily Horoscopes. We are to creatively respond to a randomly selected horoscope. This presents a particular dilemma for me, for I am an Aquarian, and not prone to do anything in purely random fashion. I am however quite prone to seeing connectivity in everything, and so with this prompt, I find myself connecting some dots. So, without further ado, I will take the leap and see where this week's assignment leads me.

Many years ago (perhaps during my college days at Wyoming) I cultivated a habit of reading my daily horoscope, found in the local Laramie Boomerang. Each morning, and for many months, I would eagerly anticipate opening a fresh morning paper, and head straight to the horoscope section. Why, you might ask? Well, this particular astrologer was writing about me in an uncanny, spot on fashion. How could this person know so much about me?

One day, and not a day that seemed different than any other, this deep, soulful connection with my own personal astrologer stopped. Was the newspaper purchasing astrology information from a different source? Perhaps...yet what I have found is that you can read a dozen different horoscopes on any given day and end up...well, end up terribly confused. The science of Astrology is less than perfect.

What is consistent in them is what binds us together as human beings...our common need, desire to give and get love, our desire for security (=money), and our inherent desire for creativity. We are truly of one body, one spirit, interchangeable one to another based on these yearnings for love, security and creative expression.

So, now that I have solved a big chunk of the world's problems (I'll leave it up to you to act on it), I will do something quite random, wholly in the spirit of this week's assignment. Mrs C has sack full of oriental fortune cookies intended for her Pre-K class. I am opening the sack, and without looking in, I am randomly picking out a fortune...my fortune. With some difficulty (as if these are X-rated fortunes, intended for adult eyes only), I am opening the cellophane, finding a broken cookie (ohhh, that can't be a good sign). I am plucking the narrow strip of white paper from the broken cookie..."Be yourself, and you will always be in fashion".

Note to Jenny...sorry I went over 100 words. You can choose to blame it on my rusty writing skills, since I have missed a few weeks. OR, you can blame it on the fact that I am an Aquarian, and tend towards non-conformity. Either way, and in keeping with my Aquarian roots, I can take the punishment. I am bending over now...

A Thanksgiving Story

Time again for another prompted writing exercise for Saturday Centus. The prompt is in bold italics. The rest is my creative response in 100 words or less. Please visit the other crafty responses at Saturday Centus.

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It seemed forever since he'd seen his cousins in Tennessee. Mr. Tom T. Urkee needed a vacation, and what better place to spend Thanksgiving than with his wild mountain cousins. He left his home at Esbenshade Farms, hopped the "Pennsylvanian" in Lancaster headed for Philly, and then a quick transfer to the "Crescent" and points south.

The "Crescent" left the Pennsylvania Station about a quarter to four. Tom T. read a magazine, and then he was in Baltimore. He had dinner in the diner...nothing could be finer. Next stop, ham and eggs in Raleigh, North Carolina.

After breakfast, Tom paid the bill and walked directly to the ticket counter...

"Pardon me,said Tom T. Urkee, is that the Chattanooga Choo-Choo?"

"Yessir, Track 29".

A Squirrel Eye View

We are never lacking for new and interesting places in which to find reflections. This delightful squirrel was snacking at my bird feeder. After loading the pictures on my computer, I looked into it's eye...lo and behold there was a reflection of the sky and my home. Does it get any crazier than this? I'll keep looking...

Peace and Blessings

...and thanks to James for providing this wonderful reflection photo meme, Weekend Reflections.