The tiny armchair fairy peeked out into the room before her, shocked and dismayed at the disarray of food containers, pizza boxes and beer cans that lay strewn everywhere. Her charge was no where to be seen and of course when present, she could not be seen either. It presented a difficult obstacle, but one she was determined to overcome in order to win her full set of fairy wings.
The little fairy eyed the mess, clapped her junior fairy wings together and within seconds, the room was pristine. The big hu-man, the one she had been charged with, lumbered back into the now clean room, stopped for a second and looked around before he fell backwards into his stained, overstuffed and over used armchair. The hu-man nearly crushed the little fairy, but she was fast as lightening and extracted herself easily.
The hu-man began yelling and shaking his fist at the big box with the moving lights inside. Upon further inspection, she determined there was some kind of game going on where bigger, younger hu-man’s trying to ram each other with their huge, helmet covered heads. These tactics seemed to upset the fairies hu-man, which was completely unacceptable.
Flitting behind the box, the little fairy removed the cord, causing the box to go suddenly silent. Her hu-man erupted, stomping over to the contraption to pound on its top; she quickly hoisted the plug back into its socket and the box sprang back to life, quieting the hu-man substantially.
So, her hu-man was only happy if the hu-man’s in the light box were yelling and he could yell with them. That’s easily fixable, she thought. Clapping her gossamer wings together she produced three more light boxes for her hu-man, all frozen permanently on those games with bowls and balls. Her hu-man was ecstatic. The little fairy sat back, patiently awaiting her full set of ultra-gossamer fairy wings.
The statue sat on my dresser, just beside the large bay window facing East. It liked it there, the statue that is. I tried placing the heavy dragon rendering in several other places, but such a feeling of malevolence overcame me that I was compelled to move it until I felt it, the statue, was at peace.
Had I known what it was, even an inkling of what I knew now, I would never have allowed my older brother and his girlfriend to talk me into playing those childish carnival games. But, they were having so much fun and it was nice to see my brother laughing again, so I grudgingly agreed to play all of them and I won; all of them every time I played! It was very odd, but not as odd as the way the carnies watched me; especially when I started winning every game at every booth. To be honest, it even spooked me a little bit. Were they setting me up so I’d have to fork over a fortune to collect my prize?
By the time the games ended, a crowd made up mostly of carnies and their families, had gathered around. Watching. Waiting. It was just weird. I turned to ask where I should go to collect my prize and that’s when I saw it moving towards me. It was as though it floated about four foot off the ground until it came to a stop right in front of me and I realized one of the Asian women was carrying it reverently in her arms.
“For you. This for you,” she said bowing slightly.
The item appeared heavy. Extremely ornate with gold paint outlining every seam. The eyes were ruby red, I wondered if they were glass or plastic. At first glance I assumed it to be some cheap, plastic kids toy, but the way the woman’s arms trembled as she held it tightly against her breast, let me know it was really made of glass and possibly porcelain.
“I can’t take this from you. Is it a family heirloom? Really, a purple teddy bear will be just right for me,” I stuttered slightly as she dropped the heavy, very fragile blue dragon into my arms. It felt warm and inviting. Not cold and heavy as I had assumed.
“For you. Blue Dragon for you,” she said again before bowing deeply and retreating, the carnie crowd followed her. In the morning they would be gone, leaving only a dusty pasture behind.
This is how I was given care of the porcelain and very fragile great Blue Dragon. I had it appraised at one of our independent art galleries several days later and was told that yes, it was porcelain. Not the porcelain of our time however. The gallery owner estimated the piece was hand-crafted in China c. 340-278 BCE. He situated the statue into a foam padded box, patted my hand and told me not to tell anyone that the Blue Dragon was now placed in my care. His parting words froze me just as I was stepping out into the street; but, when I turned around to ask him what he meant, he was gone.
“May He rise while in your keeping child and avenge his wrongful exile and execution so very long ago.”
Sunny days filled with warmth, blue skies and a giant fluffy dog at your side, security. Windows secure, doors locked, porch cam on and in service with direct feed to the monitoring company, definitely security.
The care and concern of a loved one. The knowledge that they will always come when needed or wanted, heart and soul security.
Selfless men and women who protect our dignitaries and others while performing their roles within the public eye, security; it says so on their leather jackets or the placard hanging from their strong necks.
Flashing blue lights, sirens surrounding fleeing figures, angry voices, handcuffs and fingerprinting. Security, it’s the law!
The hub of public safety officials, policemen and police women. An office, building or perhaps a large canvas tent where they work together to process a suspected criminal, is called Security.
The country’s care of our disabled and elderly, Social Security. The defense of our country’s people, our way of life and our freedom, National Security.
The knowledge that body, family, pets and home are safe, well and where they should be, a sense of security.
Bank vaults and bullet-proof vehicles offer financial security to patrons and employees all.
February 7, 2022, Carrot Ranch Literary Community prompt and special assistance from Dr. Avery . Form In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes anxiety.
The pounding on the door was beginning to irritate me. My recliner wasn’t too far away from it but it might as well have been a million miles.
My neighbor let the paramedics in with his key. I tried to tell them to go away but, as I couldn’t breathe so well, nothing emerged but a strangled gasp for breath.
Oxygen installed over my nose, the little paramedic diagnosed me with an anxiety attack. He suggested I seek out professional help. They left.
Leaving me alone in my recliner with my mask on, still battling COVID-19 and pneumonia.
By Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris Reposted from 05/30/2021
photo by dreamstime.com
I wasn’t ever here, not really. Just the fanatical and fantastical musing of someone somewhere, not sure whom or even when. A hatchling of those over-bright high-school students, book bags heavier than some of my old limbs; hanging behind them. Backs bowed, yes like my old trunk, only their backs young and strong, yet still struggling with the enormous burden.
Anyhow, I think if you squint real hard and the sun is just right well, damn. I can’t move this old bough anymore to show you where, but you get the picture. You’re young and bright too. So, I’m sure now, yes, I’ve remembered, been so long since anyone tried to see me, I near forgot all about myself too.
What? Oh yes, I’d be honored. Here sit, let me see – if – I – can, yes, here you are. Nice comfy root for you, one of my oldest. In fact, one of the originals. Just a twig I was, I remember cause I was alone and oh so lonely. There weren’t any clouds, or squirrels or even sunshine. Arktificial habitat I think they called it. Hmmm, no, that’s not right at all. Artificial. There, that’s it. But there wasn’t anything artful about it and I still haven’t figured out what an ificial is. Might you know? No, no, didn’t think you would. No matter.
I was surrounded by those like you constantly. I guess I was something of a novelty, a rarity; even a mutation or permutation or one of those tion’s. Then my roots started to spread and I opened my first leaf, the cheers in my artificial home from those like you, very nearly knocked me right off my little root base! It was something. The comings and goings, the flash-bulbs and boy oh boy, the food they gave me was something else. Couldn’t get enough! Course, that meant my little cubicle thing got real small, real fast.
By this time, different humans were caring for me. Many humans came over the years, I grew fond of some, like I am of you. Anyhow, one morning there was a great ruckus. They picked me up and put me on a big truck. The wind hurt my leaves, so I drew them up tight. It was so damned hot, I figured someone had turned the heat lamp up too high. The continual bouncing of the huge truck I was on kept unearthing my roots, so I drew them in tight too and fell into a very deep sleep.
When I woke up, my roots were anchored hundreds of feet down into the most delicious soil I could have ever imagined, if I had one I mean; an imagination. It was still hot up top, but it no longer burned me so I unfurled my leaves to drink up that delicious yellow syrup that dripped from the bluest ceiling I’d ever seen. Oh it was heaven. There were screams of laughter from young humans dancing all around me, chanting,
“It’s alive! Look it’s got leaves!”
More and more humans came and oh my, when I allowed my little white flower buds out, there was pure hysteria! After a time, things settled down and some new students started to sit beside me for hours. They were so serious! Even when I tickled them with my leaves, I couldn’t get them to smile.
Eventually they all left and different humans came with big machines that broke open the Earth. They poured liquid rock into the caverns to build on. My roots were uncovered and recovered after being connected to long tubes with blinking lights. Some of the those tube things didn’t seem to me to do anything. Some of the tubes itched and tingled, felt like a colony of ants crawling all over me. It took a long time to get used to, I took many sleeps. Other humans took the place of the previous ones, you humans don’t seem to last overly long I think, I feel saddened at that. Eventually I was surrounded by buildings, walkways, gardens, even a street for some electric cart type thing. At the center of it, was me.
Humans with white heads and long white robes took care of me at the last. They talked to me and sang to me during celebrations. Once a season, every human in the city was allowed to touch my trunk, it was glorious.
One human told me, others were not happy with what had been created. Some said it was snackerligious to alter nature. No that’s not right. Sacrilegious. Yes, yes, that’s it. That it was sinful. Anyhow, there was arguing, fighting, war and death. All because of me. The book bags those first young humans carried with their studies, notes and ideas on how to create me and my kind held so lovingly to their bodies? All seized and destroyed. I was called a mutation, unnatural. The pages and all created on them burned, disappeared, like me. The tree that never was.
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 
