Miscellaneous
Old Ladies On The Run
1A sterile room smelled of the elderly and antiseptic. Faded flowers decorated walls and threadbare carpet lined the floor. Round laminated tables were scattered about the room. Some tables were occupied and others weren’t. Under a flickering fluorescent light three white heads sat huddled around a laminated table whispering fervently back and forth. “Alcmene, what are we to do? It’s all over the news! They’ll find us,” one white head whispered franticly.
Alcmene raised her sharp brown eyes and replied, “We run, Drusilla.” Alcmene’s brittle voice was steady. As was her mind.
The third woman snorted before retorting, “In case the two of you forgot, we’re 90 years old in wheelchairs. We’re not going to get far.”
Alcmene rolled her eyes before replying, “Would you rather we stayed here and get caught, Henrietta?”
“Not particularly. I don’t fancy spending what little life I have left behind bars for doing what needed to be done,” Henrietta explained. Her pale blue eyes reflected the bare bones honesty in her statement.
“None of us do,” Drusilla whimpered.
With a huff Alcmene snapped, “Quit whimpering, Drusilla. We’re leaving and they won’t find us.”
“That’s what you said sixty-five years ago! Now look what happened! The police tore down your house and found the body,” Henrietta snapped at her long-time friend.
Drusilla whimpered at the harsh tone from Alcmene.
“Enough with your tears, Drusilla. We have to hurry if we want to leave before the police arrive with a shiny pair of bracelets for us,” Alcmene snapped.
“She has a point, Alcmene. We live in a nursing home. It’s not going to be hard for the cops to track us down,” Henrietta forcefully put in.
“It’s a private nursing home Henrietta. We’re safe for a couple of hours. Besides, we’re on the ground floor and our chairs are motorized,” Alcmene impatiently reminded her two cohorts.
“We won’t get far,” Drusilla whispered as tears started to fill her pale green eyes.
Alcmene smirked as she assured her friends, “You leave that to me. I called Ajax two years ago for modification on our chairs. All we have to do is make it out the front door and we can take these chairs on the freeway.”
At the mention of Ajax, Drusilla smiled dreamily. With a lusty look in her pale green eyes Drusilla asked, “Such a strapping lad, that Ajax. He has proven to be the only good thing Salvatore gave us. Why didn’t you tell us you called him?”
Alcmene shrugged her shoulders as she stated, “Pack your overnight bags, girls. We’re going on a trip.” The excited light in all of their eyes couldn’t be missed. They hadn’t left this nursing home in over a decade. The old ladies were looking forward to this adventure.
Twenty minutes later each woman had a bag and was parked in front of a door labeled back garden. Each of them had a floral backpack on their seat backs. The back garden had the only unlocked door in the facility and on occasion the orderlies would let them sit in peace amongst the flowers. All they had to do was wait for someone to open the door.
After a few moments a burly male nurse came over and greeted, “Good afternoon ladies! Would you like to enjoy the sunshine for a bit?”
Alcmene nodded her head once as she smiled and answered, “Thank you Julian. The weather is so pleasant today. The sun hitting the flowers reminds me of my garden.” Henrietta and Drusilla giggled at Alcmene’s reasoning. Alcmene’s garden had always been the one place they could hide their secrets.
Julian smiled at the three elderly ladies as he punched in the key code. As the sun filtered through the door the ladies smiled brightly. Once the door closed behind them the ladies slowly rolled to the wrought iron gate that surrounded the garden.
Henrietta looked both ways while Alcmene slowly opened the gate hoping to avoid a squeak that would give them away. Once the gate was open the ladies exited the grounds of the nursing home in a single file.
As they went down the sidewalk the ladies slowly began to talk about the reason for this trip.
“I hate that man. Even after sixty-five years he haunts us,” Alcmene grumbled.
“Tell me about it. It’s almost like his ghost doesn’t believe that he earned his dark fate,” Henrietta agreed.
“His actions were almost barbaric. Really! Marrying all three of us? Salvatore had to know that we were going to catch on,” Drusilla put in. Talking about what Salvatore had done always stopped Drusilla’s whimpering. Those actions were the one thing that straightened her spine in righteous indignation.
The mere mention of Salvatore had both Alcmene and Henrietta frowning in anger. Before either of them could comment, the geriatric trio heard the piercing sirens of a cop car. Simultaneously the old women reached up to their ears and turned their hearing aids down.
Henrietta and Drusilla turned to look at Alcmene. Alcmene gestured for the other two women to lift the plastic plate on their arm rests. Underneath those plates was a flat red button. When Alcmene pushed the button her wheelchair roared to life.
In under three seconds Alcmene went from sitting with her friends to being halfway down the block with a smile on her wrinkly face. Her wheelchair roared like a motorcycle. When Henrietta and Drusilla saw how fast Alcmene went, devious smiles formed in the crags of their faces.
Without a care in their aged minds the two women followed Alcmene’s lead. As the wind whipped through their white hair the three women zoomed down one street and then another. They took the corners on two wheels. Throughout their daring ride broad smiles never left their lined faces.
As the old ladies whizzed through the streets at startling speeds they realized that their adventure had just begun.
Peace In The Rain
1The earth has a way about it when it is to rain. The air becomes humid and the temperatures drop as nature once again tries to cleanse itself. I see people rushing away from the water as quickly as it can carry them. Others meander slowly through the pre-rain drizzles. Others still shut their windows tight so as to block out the greying clouds, and flashes of lightening. Some even jump at the clang of thunder. But not me.
Personally I walk, run, dance, and spin around in circles as the water pours freely from the sky. I raise my face so that I can catch every drop of water as it falls on my face. I breathe the damp air in as if it will be my last breath. I embrace the chaotic winds of the blowing storm. Because I know what it brings.
You ask why I walk in the rain and the answer is simple. It’s the only place I can think. You ask why I dance in the rain. It’s because the rain is where I am free. I sit in the rain because it washes my troubles away. But most of all I like the rain because I find peace in the rain.
Musings Of A Dragon
1Silly princes. They really have no clue. Daily they come with their sharp swords and swift horses to try and win the hand of my princess in her stone castle. They never will though. The Pretty Princess with the fiery hair doesn’t want them. All she wants is to be left to her library of scrolls. Why I don’t know, but what the Pretty Princess wants the Pretty Princess gets. Even if it doesn’t taste all that good to me.
The Dark King and Blonde Queen don’t know that. My fiery haired princess doesn’t want them to know. She said that if her parents find out than they will burn her scrolls. That would make the princess cry. I don’t want to see my flame haired friend cry.
She doesn’t have scales to protect her from the evil Princes or the Sour King and Queen. So I will protect her. My scales are green and gold. They are as hard as a diamond and sharp as razors. I have ripped many a prince to shreds with my talons that dared to try and see the Princess.
I think I saw the Princess laugh at the last Prince. Her bright hair matches the fire I breathe. I wonder what the Princess meant when she asked if I wanted ketchup at the next Prince roasting. Would ketchup make the Princes and their furry ponies taste better?
I don’t know. Maybe the Princess will bring so
me for me to try out? Sometimes she does bring me treats. Last week the Princess had the rancher down the road bring me a cow. I love beef. Especially when it’s still moving. Although I could do without the fur, it sticks when I roast them.
I admit that the fur is easier to deal with than the metal shirts that the Princes wear. Sometimes it tastes like they are boiled instead of roasted. They taste better roasted. Sadly there isn’t enough meat on the Princes heads, so I usually leave the heads in the river that floats into the other kingdoms.
The Princess saw me drop the head of a prince once while I was flying and she said that it served him right. My fiery Princess said that if they can’t learn their lesson then I can eat as many of them as I want. Since the Princess doesn’t want to meet any of the Princes, that means I can eat them all.
I think I hear the hooves of my next dinner. The Princess is smiling from her tower, that means that I can go eat now.
Chosen At The Shrine
1Every generation the Abaya was reborn. No one ever knew where the Chosen One would show up. The Ancient Priests were given a sign from the gods when it was time to escort the Chosen One to the Shrine of Rights. There the Chosen one would be given the power to fulfill his destiny. Saving the people, their souls, and the planet.
No one ever knew what the Chosen One’s destiny would be until the power of the Ancient God was bestowed upon him.
Many priests wished they knew the fates so they could better prepare the Chosen One, but they didn’t. Never had those wishes been granted.
The Chosen one didn’t even know beforehand. That was the scariest of them all. Many a Chosen ran when they found their destiny. More than one ran from a cliff top to escape the decree of the Gods.
The Vanguard didn’t know the destiny and they were the ones that had to escort the Chosen One to the Shrine of Rights. Their job was often the hardest. They had to put up with the quirks of their new charge.
Three days. Three interminable days of arrogance, lightening, and disdain along a craggy mountain ridge. That’s how long it’d been since Nechor had met the Abaya. And what a character he had proven to be. With a sour smile Nechor thought of what he had to put up with from this Abaya.
Nechor had escorted more than one Abaya to their destiny, but none of them held this man’s arrogance and derision to his fellow man. Nechor didn’t even want to think about his contempt and superiority to the sacred female.
Nechor frowned in distaste as he heard, “You there. I require food.”
“Young Abaya, the Gods decreed fasting before the Day of Rights. This is something we cannot go against,” Nechor tried to explain.
“Whether they want it or not, I am hungry,” the Young Abaya demanded.
“We cannot go against the gods, Young Abaya,” Nechor tried again.
“And them,” the Young Abaya sneered towards the women that traveled with the group. Those same women held baskets of fresh fruit and amphorae full of honey and wine.
“Theirs is a different role, and they follow the mother. Everyone knows that we have a mother and a father, Young Abaya. Balance is necessary,” Nechor preached in hopes that the message would reach the young man.
“I don’t care,” the Young Abaya firmly stated.
Nechor rubbed his temples. “Young Abaya, it won’t be long until we reach the shrine. Once there the priests will anoint you with sacred oils so that you may greet your destiny. After that there will be food aplenty, of this I am sure,” Nechor soothed.
“I want food or them, now,” the Young Abaya demanded harshly.
“The Gods dictate otherwise,” Nechor informed coolly.
“If I don’t get food, we go no further,” the Young Abaya threatened.
Nechor’s eyes blazed at that threat as his eyes turned into smoldering embers. “I have had enough of your high-handed disrespect to both the God and Goddess; let alone what you have implied about our holy sisters. That you have the nerve to treat anyone this way.
“It stops now,” Nechor thundered as the ground around them shook.
The winds picked up and the sky darkened as a booming voice shook from the heavens, “So be it, destiny is chosen.”
Darkness engulfed the world for a minute. When the light glowed on the dirt again. Nechor’s eyes widened in disbelief. No longer was there a svelte, dark-skinned male Chosen. In the place of the arrogant Young Abaya stood a buxom blonde with wavy hair and a tiny waist.
The former Chosen took one look down and let out a screech that would have done a banshee proud.
What Adults Want
1That is the question that we all want answered. As adults we want the same thing that we wanted as children and teenagers. Friendship, respect, and understanding. If we have those things, we can grow into well-adjusted people.
In order to have any of this though, we must find the qualities in ourselves. We must be a friend to ourself, respect our own person, and understand who we are. The last one can sometimes be the most difficult. For everyone on the planet understanding of who we are as a person is a lifelong journey; with a new portion revealed everyday.
Being our own personal friend is just as difficult. Daily we hear people putting us down and telling us that we won’t be anyone. Would you let someone talk that way to you? No. Therefor why do you talk that way to yourself? How can you grow to be well adjusted if you constantly put yourself down? Being a friend to yourself is the first way to attract true friends.
Now we come to the trickiest one. Respecting yourself. First realize that the rest of the world won’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated. This is why you must treat yourself the right way. If it doesn’t feel right to you, don’t do it. If something makes you uncomfortable, don’t do it. These are the first steps to respecting yourself. If you don’t want someone else to treat you a certain way, don’t treat yourself that way.
Frozen In Ice
Wanderings of a Muse: An Anthology Page 6
