Posted in Twisted fairytales

A Hushed Conversation

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A hushed conversation

“Isn’t that the same tree stump we passed twice before?”

“Not sure. Can’t tell one from another in the mist.”

Silence

“Greta, should we call out father’s name?”

“Han! We have been over that before. He isn’t coming. You heard mother last night, didn’t you?”

“She was just complaining about the lack of food…”

“And too many mouths to feed!”

“Then, why didn’t they send us to the king? We could have worked as slaves or something.”

“Because then, they would have to give us food for the way and money for the ride. It beats the whole point.”

Silence

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

“And hungry.”

“I’m so hungry, I can smell gingerbread.”

“Me too.”

Silence

“Do you remember what old Rabbi told about the witch house made of gingerbread?”

“He’s senile.”

“I hope he’s right. I would rather be eaten than starved.”

Silence


Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Posted in Poetry

When A Little Bird Told Me

I was still reliving

How you once held me,

When a little bird told me

You’ve returned to the town

To marry

The woman of your dreams.

The memories came

Flooding back to me.

The strolls through the gardens,

The stolen kisses,

The promises of eternity,

And whatever came after

That brought blush

To my cheeks.

Over the moon I walked,

As I wore my bridal dress.

I flew through the air

Wind teasing my tresses,

Looking for you,

Sure that you were

Looking for me too.

From the seventh cloud,

I saw you…

…walking out of the Chapel,

Under the rice showers

With the new Mrs. You.


Image by Petr Ovralov on Unsplash

Posted in Poetry

The Bus Detour

She was looking out of the window with unseeing eyes as the bus took a detour to avoid a roadblock.

For the hundredth time, she thought of earlier that day…in the back of his car… She smiled. Absent-mindedly playing with the ring he gave her, she wondered if he was thinking of her as well.

Suddenly, the bus turned a corner into a dark alley. Its headlights revealed a familiar car with a couple entangled ferociously in the backseat. She had her answer.

Posted in Fiction

Tiny Story: The Door

Image by Ross Sneddon on Unsplash.com

With a rock on my heart, I see you

Place the luggage out of your door,

Thoughtfully, coz I can’t carry it alone.

I wish you had let it stay inside

And given me a reason to

See you one more time.

But you put it out and

Closed that door

Forever.