mouse

As a very young girl I liked to dress as a Gypsy for Halloween. Don't know why but i was always intrigued by there way of life. Only once did i see Gypsies in real life. A family had made camp on the front lawn of the hospital were I was a student. The Patriarch of their family was a patient and they stayed till he was discharged.

giraffe

I apologize, Mouse. When I saw your black and white drawing, my mind went immediately to thinking Doug wrote 'The Gypsies'. I was in a hurry - just got back from the art museum. So my comments were as if Doug wrote it. Now it makes more sense and I still like it. You're too mellow to add giant bunnies to a good visual.

giraffe

256 w/o title. This is bad timing, but not my fault.

ATTACK OF THE GIANT BUNNIES

"Now we have a real problem, folks. There are giant bunnies hopping caravan-style all over the country. They are very destructive, so everyone must take shelter immediately. They are about the height of telephone poles. The brown ones are throwing huge eggs at cars, vans, houses, and especially churches. Take shelter. We recommend not going to church today until the situation is under control. Go into your basements.

The mystic known as Mama (who predicted this) is being held for questioning. Detective Morrison believes Mama must know more about this uprising. So far she isn't speaking. Whenever asked, all she will utter is that there was a blue eyed girl who danced in the moonlight."

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"They are mine." Mama finally confessed. "They came out of my mind."

"Why bunnies?" inquired Morrison.

"I used to be a little girl until I was 5. That was when that bad man did those things to me. I had a bunny. I got so mad, I killed it."

"We have to know how you killed it, Mama. Nothing we try is working."

"They won't die. After the ones in Italy get to the Vatican, they'll just disappear."

"What is their purpose? They're ruining everything."

"I'm the ruined one. And I have value as a person. I finally understood that. Then the bunnies came out of my head."

"Can't you please stop them?"

"No. And I wouldn't if I could."

"Put your hands behind your back, Mama. You're under arrest for complicency in destroying property."

"I've been under arrest since I was 5. What else do you want of me?"

marius

Mouse, thanks for telling more about gypsy experiences. Wondering now about Halloween gypsy costume? Colors? Accessories? Castanets or cymbals? Scarves? Make-up? Foot-wear? Sounds divine!

W-e-ll-ll-ll ... giraffe ... goofy smile on my face! What a lark! Love the whole thing. "Then the bunnies came out of my head." LOL! Yes, yes, works like that sometimes! : )

Doug

marius: I liked the way your story turned out. No need to change a thing. I know you have this "phobia" about "a little scare factor" lol.

Nylecoj

Mouse, loved the gypsies! I started writing a story about gypsies but it isn't finished. Hope it turns out enough different from yours.

Giraffe, bunnies! LOL very nice!

giraffe

I think I meant 'compliency or complience' not complicency.

marius

Dear Dairy April 27, 1968

I am angry. Today at cheer-leading Genise snot-nose decided she wasn’t going to do any cheers. Everyone got crabby. Well, I never wanted to be a cheerleader and having a squad in eighth grade? Come on!

In the first place, I HATE basketball. Bob Kipper is kind of cute, but other than that, what a stupid game. I think we should have a women’s team of poetry reading and all the boys have to dress up and cheer for the girls between readings! Yes and they should look at us with gooey pie-eyed expressions the whole time. THAT would make me smile.

Betsy Brown, Cara Vanton, Tina Morrison, Genise, Kathy Klauss and me are it. Every time we’re supposed to do a cheer they fight about which one. Something had to change so I suggested a different girl could select the cheers at each game. We’ve tried that and today they yelled at Tina! She’s the sweetest girl, also the only one who can do splits AND cartwheels.

I got so mad I pretended I got my period and they all know I get sick when I’m “on the moon.” Speaking of which, what a silly name. I told them Mom was picking me up but I just walked home to cool off. Since I’m “sick,” I’ll have to skip the dance but I don’t care. I’m quitting cheer-leading. Guess I’ll do homework. My report on The Mystic Lives of Saints is due Monday. Haha, bet the Saints never had to deal with stuff like this!

midnightpoet

wayyy over the word count, by about 200 words, but I can't cut it. No title for this one...


Here in the desert, there was little to break the brown monotony, and we walked under the soft light coming from a near cloudless sky, searching for somewhere to rest. The moon shone on us as we plodded across the bare land scape, our feet tired, our throats dry and itching.

How did we get here? I don't know. All I can remember is the walking. It wasn't always so plodding, we weren't always so tired. I vaguely remember a time where Simon and I walked hand in hand across the dry sand, the sun as bright as our smiles, as bright as our future. There was hope, and we were on some great adventure.

Now, it was just brown. There was nothing exciting or adventurous. We'd walked as far as our feet could carry us, then we'd walked some more. It was night again. How many nights had we passed, here in the dry nothingness, walking from sunset to sunrise, into the horizon we'll never reach?

Wait. What is that? There in the distance...I see color. Color! Is it a mirage? God, please don't let it be a mirage! We've walked too long, our feet are too sore, and we're too tired.

We're drawing closer and it hasn't disappeared. I look to Simon, and he has the same hopeful gleam in his eyes that I know must be in mine. We hold our breath, afraid to speak, afraid to jinx this good fortune we seem to have come across.

I hear music! Mirages have no sound..this must be real. Or maybe I've lost my mind. But Simon hears it too...could we be having the same hallucination?

We're close enough now to see a huge tent, the music is coming from within. What wonders await us in there? For a brief moment, I wonder where the caravan of vans and trucks must be, to have brought this tent and whatever is inside out here to the middle of my hell, but the thought vanishes as I step inside, no longer a morose one, but full of wonder and joy as the lights and sounds and smells hit me.

This circus is as big and wonderful as any I've ever seen, and I can't stop my tired feet from moving forward to join the dangerous dance with knife jugglers and acrobats. I rejoice...finally, all that walking makes sense, and it's wonderful, and Simon and I are free of the mindless, monotonous walking.

A girl approaches us, and my guess is that she must be the mystic. Will she tell us our fortune?

Her voice is airy as she speaks.

“Do not rejoice in leaving the desert behind. That was just a prelude to your real hell.”

Dragon

Ahh midnight, I had a feeling that tent was going to hide something a little twisted. Good one.

marius, hehehe, caught the essence of teenage angst so well.

giraffe, nice touch with the Catholic destroying bunnines on Easter Sunday.

mouse, loved the gypsies, I was going to write a gypsy one too but it's not materializing in my head. I'm also looking forward to Nylecoj's if she gets one worked out.

If I've missed commenting on some stories, fear not, I'm diligently reading them all. I'm just not great at commenting all the time. I'm loving the creations that are coming in. Happy Easter everyone!

giraffe

midnight. It reminds me of how kids can't wait to grow up and then they find out what it's really like. Your characters went from sweet innocence to plodding boredom to strip clubs. Cool.

marius. Boy cheerleaders on the girls' poetry team? "Gimme an M! Gimme an A! Gimme an R! Gimme an I ! Gimme a U ! Gimme an S ! Pom poms, matching outfits. Now that's poetry.

midnightpoet

lol, Marius, in high school, Jesi was a cheerleader AND she wrote poetry...and you captured the cattiness of those girls so well, brings back some memories...lol.

Doug

256 excluding title...

The Fire Within

Into the mystic cauldron of serpents heated by the blood of a fallen angel, I stand before you a new soul. Demons form a caravan of marching putrid flesh surrounding the tall oak with the young sacrifice tied upon it. Here my cries of pain as I mark my arms with crisscross tracks made with the ancient knife of the unholy. I seek the power to be and the power not to be. I am the unseen, but seen by all.

Molly Morrison wrote little sadistic ditties for fun and that was just an excerpt. Being her editor, I wore down more pencils to nubs on her musings than any of my other wannabe writers. Maybe eyed with more scrutiny than most, Molly was prolific, yet unstable at the same time. After receiving this little blurb, I thought it was time for a “med” change for poor Molly. She can be brilliant at times and has published a few best sellers but most consider her a hack now.

This literary wonder she titled “Moon Dance” still needed a lot of work. It has all of the trappings of an okay story, but it is far from her original outline that showed such great promise. Bright and cheery walks on the southeastern river trail amongst the wildlife and beautiful fall foliage has turned into “demons” and “sacrifices”.

Writers are funny people. Sometimes they start with one idea and then there mind starts to churn out something completely different.

I guess its ok. I make a buck regardless.

Doug

midnight: If you can go over the word count by 200 words or so I feel inclined to miss two words in the word list, unintentionally of course...

marius

giraffe, your comment about midnight's story, kids dying to grow up ... yes!

midnight - like the mood you created, could feel being in the hot desert ... but did want to rescue the characters before they found scary hell. [tee hee - Ms non-scary person can *always* wish!] : )

And, how fun a cheerleader AND a poet could relate to that story! Thanks for telling me.

marius

marius apologizes for so hogging space with so many entries and thinks she should be banned from any more. [Or ... could we just blame Dragon for making a list that is somehow resonating with the weird workings in this mind? Tee hee.]

Apologies to male readers too ... feminine topic to follow.

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Dear Diary - May 26, 1968

Got my seventh period! Thought I'd had enough torture but here’s another - and IT might last forty years!!!

My ‘moon’ shows up at 2 pm Sundays, every three weeks! It lasts seven days and that means I only get two weeks off. THAT means one-third of every year I’ll be in bed two days and bitchy the other five! Mom says my ‘flow’ is just like hers. Great! Another way I’m like her. It’s bad enough Dad can’t tell our voices apart. I’m FOURTEEN, not FORTY! Get real!

Mom is nosy. She heard me talking to Van Morris on the phone and when I hung up she said, “Girls shouldn’t tell boys what they think. It will scare them.” I figure if some boy is afraid of what I think it’s his problem.

I’m a smart girl so I didn’t get into it with Mom, especially since she eyed me with that “I’m your mother and know everything” look. Mom is an idiot. God is an idiot too. Sorry God, but if women have to bear the children, MEN should have the periods! If that gets in the way of them and their wars, maybe they’ll stop fighting. I’m only fourteen and even *I* can figure that out.

Maybe someone invented periods on the seventh day when you were resting? If I become the mystic, make it to heaven, we should talk. Meanwhile I’m going to join up with a gypsy caravan where I can dance and they’ll have magic remedies for my MOOOO-OOON times!

Doug

or maybe the "gypsies" will just take you away and give Mom and Dad some peace and quiet.....teehee!

marius

Ohhh, Doug! I LOVE that one! I really do! All of it! And ... the ending surprised but in a different way!

Also, a belated coongrats on your house! Good luck with the move!

marius

Haha, think mom and dad *wanted* the gypsies to take that girl away!

Doug

marius: thanks! step 999...met with finance people today..on to the next step...oh boy!