She did not believe it. Not now and not ever. She refused to allow one inkling of their suggestion to enter her mind, or heart.
“Babe, be reasonable before you freak out and end up like your mother as well, two in the family are quite enough!” That certainly elicited a response from his young wife.
She turned at him, glowering.
“Don’t you even think it husband mine! Should I ever display those kinds of barbaric, heinous tendencies in your presence, you’ve my express permission to shoot me dead!” Tears ran down her high, plump cheeks.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Babe,” he pretended to ruminate on her statement in earnest until she nailed him squarely in the face with one of her fluffy, lace trimmed decorator pillows; the ones no one was allowed to actually use.
She laughed and loved him even more for making her laugh. Things would be alright, she just knew it.
Growing serious once again, she tucked the pretty pillow under her neck, arms and breasts, unconsciously rocking back and forth.
He pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. The pillow was tossed toward the headboard where it lay untimelyshe deftly returned it to its original resting place.
A shrill scream of pain and subsequent silence pierced the air and their ears.
The boy stood on the top stair, their prized sweet goose hanging by the neck, limp in his tight little fists.
“Mable, Mable! Wake up!” The male shook his wife vigorously. He’d never known anyone that could sleep like his wife.
“Mable! Wake up, I think I’ve found sustenance! Come on!”
Mable roused at the mention of food, how long had it been since they’d eaten anything at all healthy or nutritious for either of them?
She rolled her rather large self up off of the soft bed of hay to peer up at her much smaller, but currently highly animated husband.
“What do you see Dandy Randy?” She felt his excitement and moved up to be beside him. He really was exquisite, that’s why she had chosen him and why she’d dubbed him Dandy Randy the first time he had presented and preened for her.
Dandy Randy rubbed against her, a show of affection.
“There, do you see it? It comes and goes, sort of blinking, but very bright when it blinks on our way. I’m positive it’s calling to us Mable. It wants us to go to it. Do you feel it too?”
“Oh yes, yes, yes! There must be food there, why else would it be signaling us? It will be so nice to have something to eat besides this dried up hay!” With one large wing, she waved toward the huge expanse of wheat and barley as far as they could see.
“Mable darling,” Dandy Randy hesitated. “Sweetheart, it’s a long way across the blue liquid. There may be dangerous things beneath and since you laid your larvae, you’re not as well … you haven’t fully recovered yet. Do you think you can make it love?” He really was concerned.
“I’m as fit as you are, bigger and stronger too so don’t you forget it!”
He knew she was upset with him because she didn’t call him Dandy Randy.
Before he could explain or issue an apology, she lifted off with her expansive wings and was out over the blue expanse in seconds.
“Mable, wait! You are flying too low, lift Mable lift!” Dandy Randy shouted at her as his much smaller but faster wings almost caught him up to her. He was too late! He saw the huge beast beneath the surface tracking his beloved. He opened his mouth to shout again when she suddenly slowed and called back to him over her beautiful, furred shoulder.
“Are you shouting at me as well now?” The beast leapt out of the blueness just in front of Mable. Had she not slowed down to wait for her husband, she would have been a snack for that monster. She owed him her life and she knew it.
Tears filled her luminous eyes, making her even more beautiful to Dandy Randy.
As he reached her, he gently nudged her up higher. Not too high or those horrid white flying things would be on them, tearing and rending them to pieces. He urged her to fly on, a little faster and more aware.
She watched below and he watched above. Sometimes their wings would touch and they’d smile that smile that married couples do.
Dandy Randy glanced behind him many times, keeping an eye on the swarm of swimming things that tracked their progress. Once in a while one of the slimy creatures would would leap at them, but the couple were flying well above the blue moving surface to worry about it.
“Almost there,” Dandy Randy raised his voice to be heard over the rapidly rising wind.
“It’s so beautiful,” Mable exclaimed only a few seconds before … “SPLAT!” … “SPLAT!”
In response (I think) to ROUND 3posted by f3gastonia
Explanation: I found this in my draft folder dated September 2022, never posted. I thought to go ahead and post it since my last post was somewhat depressing and this one would help elevate the mood and it has Christmas in it too!
Quicken winked at Quilt when passing through one day She blushed in hues of red and blue
Quilt looked up so shy and sweet Her squares lined up perfectly very straight and wonderfully neat
Demurely did she smile and say Quicken you must quit this day Friends we are and friends we’ll stay
Quilt I can not said Quicken to Quilt Your colors do swirl and capture me Keeping me completely atilt
My weaver wove a heavenly cast into my squares and meant to last for years to come and was a gift
But this lovely quilt is not for you Sewn with love so very true A little boy I’ve been made for
So quit this day Quicken Sir for it’s not here this quilt will stay
But swaddling a babe with care and love early on Christmas Day
“I have not formulated a logical escape plan Captain,” Answered Mr. Spock stoically.
“What do you mean you don’t have a way to get us out of this?” Kirk hissed.
Mr. Spock peered at Captain Kirk speculatively.
“I did not say I do not have a way out Captain. I merely stated I do not have a logical way for us to escape this situation. There is one option however, Captain …”
“Well, spit it out Spock,” Kirk hissed through clinched teeth, holding onto the glass dome, protecting them from the massive Serock. “SPOCK! ”
Letting go of the straps holding the heavy protective dome in place, Spock said quietly,
“The Serock only ingests red blood cells Captain …”
Response to photo prompt above for April 4 Story Challenged in 99-words hosted by Charli Mills for Carrot Ranch Literary Community.
“These creatures are quite ruthless in their pursuit of breakfast, lunch or dinner. They will not give up until they have a tasty treat in their little beaks; mainly me! They are ravenous little beings whose only purpose on this Earth is to eat me and those like me.
My name is Georgio Piccolo Francis Worm and I am, a worm. Thus the name. I’ve survived the longest, so was chosen to teach the little wormettes how to remain free of a certain death by mastication, although the little chicks do not actually chew how horrible to be …. Aheeeeeeeeeeee!!!”
It was in one of those malls, the kind we used to go to in the not so distant past to do our shopping, especially for birthday and Christmas gifts. I was shopping alone with my son, then six years old, so he could buy gifts on the sly for his sister and father.
Those were also the days when my adorable little boy actually wanted to hold my hand. It was a beautiful Christmas season and also one of the saddest. It would be the first Christmas in my life that my mother wasn’t in it. Mother passed away eleven months before, a year in the upcoming month of January. She was determined to hold out until Christmas because she loved it so much, that’s what everyone said. I believed she loved Christmas so much, she tried her very best not to discolor the season for everyone. Not only that Christmas, but future Christmases too; and she did it!
My son wanted to buy pierced earrings for his older sister, “real gold ones,” he said. That is why we ended up where it happened. We headed to the jewelry department, just strolling along hand in hand, enjoying the bright, sparkling Christmas decorations.
Taking a short cut through the locked cases of the fragrance department, my son abruptly stopped dead in his tracks nearly pulling my arm off, figuratively of course.
The look on his face was not only incredulous but beatific. His eyes, misty at first grew bright, clear and a good bit bigger. He pulled on my hand, until I squatted down in front. I asked him what was wrong and his answer made my heart swell to great uncomfortable proportions and tears to stream down my face.
“It’s MiMi, I smell MiMi!” he said excitedly. I told him smoking was not allowed in this part of the store and he said, “No, the real MiMi!”
I assumed he smelled cigarette smoke as mother was a heavy smoker her entire life, literally since the age of nine if not before.
He held back and asked me if I smelled her. I started to tell him no and shake my head when a bottle full of amber liquid sparkled in the cabinet right beside him and caught my attention. I was mesmerized.
My little boy did smell his Grandma. In the locked, glass case right beside him, was a large, very expensive bottle of Shalimar perfume. At that time it was one of the most expensive perfumes this major chain carried, which is why it was locked in the center cabinet level with my sons nose.
My parents were far from wealthy, probably considered lower-middle class and Shalimar Perfume was nothing but a dream for my mother. Yet, one year for her birthday, my father found a way to buy one ounce from the department store. He continued to buy her Shalimar perfume about every ten years or so. As those years went by and they grew into middle-age, my father could afford to buy her a little more and the fancy Shalimar bottle, not just a little vial. She did not dab-a-do-ya every day, but in fact, only put the barest amount on for special occasions.
This is part of the reason I was so very shocked that my son recognized the smell above the smell of those other high end perfumes and spoke about it. I lifted him into my arms and held him tightly. After a moment he asked me if I was sad, I was crying. I told him no, they were tears of joy that I had such a special baby boy.
The sales associate must have seen or heard part of this and asked us if we were ok. I relayed the story and a moment later she opened the locked case, bent down and retrieved the bottle of Shalimar. She allowed both of us a little sniff before replacing the bottle and walking away quietly.
A liquid ray of memory enveloped me. We were once again standing in the kitchen with Mimi while she cooked Christmas dinner.
I kindly thanked the sales associate and continued to shop for my son’s big sister and father; a warm glow in our hearts and wistful smiles on both our faces.
EPILOGUE: This memory is more the sweeter because now my son is thirty years old and we are estranged. It’s been nearly two years since I’ve heard from him or seen him and I have no idea why. I’ve heard rumors from others about misconceptions and misperceptions after his father passed away, but since he won’t answer my calls or e-Mails and he’s moved several hours away without sharing his new location, I can only wait and … hope. 🙏
In response to word prompt CONSPIRACY provided by Nox at The Daily Spur
Dara knew it, she’d had him pegged ever since she’d arrived and had been accepted into the fold, as it were. She couldn’t help herself; she followed him throughout the massive hallways always supremely aware of which door he entered, how long he took inside and when he exited.
It wasn’t like he was hard to tail, so to speak, not with a tail like that and besides, he was huge. Massive really. Of course, the color of his skin, um, scales shone brighter and slimier the further down the hallway he went.
As the hall became hotter and hotter it became more and more difficult for Dara to follow, but she was determined. Only two doors left. She knew the last door opened onto a very private elevator that only descended, but the door before that one presented a mystery.
Dara was positive she was onto something. If she proved her conspiracy theory, not only would she be the most celebrated journalist of all time, but mankind would be forever changed as well. There would be no more guessing, no more religious uprisings or wars, it would all be exposed in black and white soon, by her.
The door opened wide, allowing his heavy bulk entrance into the room. Dara slid in behind him on her stomach, surprised at how quiet she could be. The room was dark, smoke filled and smelled of something quite foul. Dara covered her mouth to keep from retching and thanked the heavens for the darkness.
A gigantic oval table took the center of the cavernous room. Fireplaces on all six sides roared loudly as fire devoured big chunks of decaying wood fed to it by underlings. Every chair was filled. Dara counted 16, no 24 chairs all together and each held something no sentient being should ever see.
Dara’s stomach roiled. Seated right beside the giant red one was the wavering figure of a man, a creature really, every high school girl and boy know the name of before they ever finish their studies. A man so vile and so evil, to say his name out loud would bring down misfortune and pain on the person voicing it. The most depraved, violent and heinous leader in the history of mankind.
Joseph Stalin sat to the beasts right. To the left of the beast sat a small, almost fearful man whose visage seemed to wink in and out. A part of his skull was missing but still, he was easily recognizable as Adolph Hitler. So it went that around the table sat the very worst humanity had birthed, nourished and eventually vanquished.
It was the strangest sight to see these people, not really people Dara surmised; but the souls of what used to be people sitting here calmly conspiring to cause the downfall of humanity.
Yet, as unbelievable as that was, what they were doing was even worse. Each vile ex-leader had attached to their hands, if they still had them, or to whatever part of their body they could maneuver, a full set of barely visible puppet strings.
Dara allowed her eyes the freedom to follow the clear, crystalline tethers to their destination far below on Earth. There, dancing to the tune of each macabre puppeteer, were the worlds most prominent leaders, speakers, religious icons and zealots. Completely controlled by evil.
Response to prompt by Charli Mills for Carrot Ranch Literary Community. In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about disappearance.
It was here, seemingly only a few moments ago. Yet, neither could find it anywhere. They searched for it together and they searched apart. Neither one could believe they had lost it and it was gone.
Deciding to search one last night; the searching was awkward, stilted and definitely not how it had been. There was no team-work, no coordination. Their basic understanding of how to work as one unit no longer existed.
They sat upon the bed just looking at one another. The disappearance of their love had gone unnoticed, just as the disappearance of years had.
It was supposed to be a straight forward experiment, certainly there was no perceived danger prior to implementing the procedure.
Dr. Kym informed his staff, his colleagues and the entire Board about the pending experiment, the specifics and the predicted conclusions. They sat enraptured as he laid out the basic principles upon which he had built his theory. It all sounded so good.
Until it wasn’t. Dr. Kym planned to integrate the human psyche into the many layered and complicated nervous system of Earths most common fungi, the mushroom.
What he had not planned on was a retaliatory strike!
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 
