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“Have a Prompt!” Saturday #123

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Posted by on September 22, 2018 in Home, Prompts

 

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Magic

Magic.

What first popped in your head upon reading that word? Was it a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat? A girl showing off a card trick? An acrobat seemingly twirling in thin air high above a circus ring?

Perhaps your idea of magic is a wizard creating fire from a wand carved out of the bark of an oak tree, or a hero with flight and super speed saving the world from an impending meteor.

Maybe magic to you is the first snowfall of the Christmas season, light, fluffy flakes freewheeling to cover the ground in white. Maybe it’s the jingle of your baby’s first laugh, the spine-tingling sparks of your first kiss, the bittersweet feeling of your heart piecing back together after it was shattered, knowing that everything will be alright.

It could be the words flowing in unison to share a tale to all.

What’s magic to you?

 
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Posted by on August 23, 2016 in Home

 

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Everyone Started as a Beginner

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Posted by on July 8, 2016 in Home

 

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Sunday Scribble – “You”

You

“You have got to be kidding me…”

I stared at the vast expanse of rolling hills, the grass a healthy emerald green as it shone in the sun. There was nowhere near our city that looked like this.

“Where are we?” Emily asked as she stood up next to me. She shielded her eyes from the strong sunlight as she glanced around. “This place is beautiful, but it’s not home.”

“Not at all,” I muttered. “I suppose we should walk down the hill, see if we can find a road to follow toward a town or something…”

“Oh, God.” Emily stumbled after me. “Let’s hope we don’t meet any weirdos around. I mean, let’s face it, two young women lost in a strange place doesn’t exactly bode well.”

I stole a look at my sister, silently agreeing with her words. If we met anyone, we’d have to be on our guard, yet we wouldn’t be able to do much without trusting a stranger enough to give them directions.

“Where do you think we are?” Emily asked.

“I honestly have no idea,” I said. “This place is lacking a lot of familiar things, like skyscrapers and cars…”

“And pollution.” Emily took a deep breath through the nose, a small smile creeping up on her face. “Seriously, this place smells so… fresh!”

“Fresh?” I echoed and took a deep breath as well. “Well, yes, it smells clean, I guess.”

“Much better than the tobacco and weed smell from a few minutes ago, right?”

I blinked. “You smelled weed? Maybe that’s it, maybe we accidentally inhaled some guy’s drugs and now we’re hallucinating.”

Emily turned to me with a dry look as we reached the bottom of the hill. “This is way too immersive for something like that,” she said, “and you know it.”

“Hey, I’ve never smoked weed in my life–”

“Neither have I, but those kinds of highs aren’t this nice, right?” She looked back at our surroundings, seemingly approving the beauty of the landscape. “I mean, that smell from before is what I assume was weed–”

“I didn’t smell weed,” I admitted. “Mine was more, like, burning… As if there was a forest fire or something.”

“Then your drug theory just went out the window,” Emily said. We reached the road and she glanced down the right. “There seems to be smoke coming from that way. Maybe from a campfire or a chimney?”

“Alright,” I said, taking the lead. “It’s as good a way as any, I suppose.”

The walk was quiet for a few moments, the silence being broken only occasionally by some bird or other. Eventually we heard the sounds of hooves and wheels from behind us and Emily and I moved further over to the side of the road. We would have flagged the rider down, but we were a bit dumbstruck at his appearance.

He seemed friendly, giving us women a tip of his hat and a polite smile as he passed by, but even from his seated position we could tell how short he was. Like, really short. Emily and I weren’t the tallest women in the world – in fact, we were on the short side ourselves, with me only reaching a few inches past five feet and Emily a couple of inches shorter – but this man’s feet dangled helplessly off of his perch. If he stood next to us, he’d probably be a good foot shorter than Emily.

“What is this, Munchkin Land?” I muttered to Emily once we spurred ourselves to move onward.

“We’re already realized we’re not in Kansas anymore,” was Emily’s sing-song reply. “Maybe we’ll meet Glinda the Good Witch and she can give us some nifty shoes to bring us back to our apartment.”

“Or maybe even a wizard,” I said with a crooked grin.

A deep voice coughed behind us and I whirled around to see another wagon. Instead of a munchkin on the front seat, there was a frightfully tall man with an even taller, pointed hat and a snow-white beard that was longer than the gentleman we had first seen.

With a twinkle in his eyes, the old man said, “Forgive me, but did I hear you mention a wizard?”

 
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Posted by on September 6, 2015 in Scribbles

 

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Short Story Sunday – “Precious”

Happy Mother’s Day to all! Don’t forget to appreciate the wonderful women in your life today! 🙂

Precious

She had always been primped and polished and spoiled, the precious gem of the royal family, the youngest and only daughter, the best bargain for neighboring nobles and kingdoms who wished to come into favor of the monarch.

Princess Opal made sure that she was not simply a prize to be won by some sniveling, arrogant son of a noble family. She had high demands for her future husband, and her parents were more than accommodating for her preferences.

Redheaded suitors were out of the running before they even stepped into the throne room. Their ginger heads would clash horribly with the design ideas that she had for the bedroom that she and her husband would live in together.

Green-eyed men would not do. Princess Opal had green eyes and, while she loved them dearly and attributed that they helped with her beauty, she would prefer a bit more of a variety in her own children. That, and she couldn’t risk her husband having a prettier shade than she.

Her husband must be good with animals, especially with horses and falcons, for whatever manor she would live in with her future spouse would have the animals in abundance. Dogs and cats were also a few favorite species. Opal firmly believed that whenever she was at odds with her husband, the animals would keep her company until he decided to beg her for forgiveness.

He should be taller than she, but not as tall as her father. No man should be taller than the king, of course. Her husband should always know the feeling of being looked down upon, to keep whatever cockiness in his personality in check. Her suitor should also be trim and fit, but not as athletic as her three elder brothers. Having the princes of the realm better at sports – either swordplay, jousting, or archery – than her suitor would heighten the power of her birth family.

Her parents all agreed to her demands, and did not seem too deterred at the lack of suitors that came knocking at the door. They all seemed to be more concerned with whatever bride Opal’s eldest brother, the heir to the throne, would choose to lead by his side. One day, however, the royal family got a surprise guest.

He had dull brown hair with eyes of the same shade, and no steel weapons hiding in the sleeves of his cloak. Rather, he held onto a staff created of twisting mahogany wood in one hand while his other arm was a perch for rather tamed owl. He was only a couple of mere inches taller than Opal when he did stand up straight. Generally, he was slouching, as if he was permanently bent over a desk or a book.

“Your Majesties,” the young man greeted, bowing low to the king and queen.

“Well met, good sir,” her father greeted in return. “Whom do we have the honor of entertaining, and for what reason is he visiting our manor?”

“My name is Castor,” the man said, “and I have come to see the fair princess.”

“The fair princess is here,” Princess Opal said from beside her mother’s throne. She scrutinized the stranger and ignored his smile. “For what reason do you seek me?”

“I find that it is high time I seek a bride,” Castor said, “and I was more than curious if the princess would have the hand of a wizard…”

 
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Posted by on May 10, 2015 in Scribbles

 

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