Winter Walk - - - (Based on a True Story)

 

It was a long time ago. I was walking my 120-pound dog, Rocky, through the biting wind that cut through my coat, scarf, and gloves. The night was dark, and we were heading to the dog park. Rats slithered through gutters and garbage cans, their movements rustling paper and jingling loose cans.

 

Rocky spotted cats perched on fruit crates, their spines arched, eyes glowing.

 

At the fenced dog park, I let him run free. The cold didn’t seem to bother him at all.

 

A homeless man pushed a stolen shopping cart past the gate. His blackened hands gripped the handle, his cracked lips curled into a grin, and his hollow pupils stared straight through me.

 

Rocky and I hurried away, passing the freight train tracks. Flames flickered inside a barrel, casting jagged shadows. Then the fire shifted.

I saw a face in the flames.

 

Heart pounding, I picked up my pace and ran with Rocky.

When we finally got home, safe but frozen, I made hot chocolate. Rocky had his treats. The night stayed outside where it belonged.

Georgia P.

The Wonderful Wizard of Surf (Excerpt)

 

Chapter One

Let’s Twister Again

“Oh, no,” she moaned. “It’s happening again.”

Gripping tight to the coverlet, eyes squeezed closed, she felt the bed begin to move, counter intuitive to the direction that the house was spinning. She may not have achieved education beyond a level undetermined, but if there was one thing that Dorothy Gale had mastered, it was the geometric physics of motion… and how to ride out a twister alone in your bedroom while the parental guardians and hired help cowered safely in the storm cellar. She reached for Toto, who slept alongside her always, but his little furry self could not be found. Letting go of the metal frame beneath that held the rickety bed together, Dorothy sprang up in alarm. The coverlet, ripped from her hands sailed out the open window that should have been closed in the first place. Aunt ‘Em never liked the idea of an open window in the young girl’s room at night. She feared the poor waif might catch her death, blah, blah, blah. What Dorothy had caught following nights of fresh air slumber was some type of skin condition. No local physician, nor medicine man, nor the great Professor Marvel could identify neither the disease or its cure. ‘Twas the gentle Aunt ‘Em who prevented recurrences, insisting that the window remain shuttered at night to hold off the dreadful bug, which is exactly the cause, you see. Mosquito bites, and yes, even mosquitoes themselves maintain a long and sordid history not to be revealed here.

“Toto,” she cried. “Oh, Toto, where are you?”

No bark replied, no whimper no whine.

“We’re supposed to be a team you and me,” the girl whined in his place.

The bed slammed against the wall beneath the window drawing Dorothy from her sorrowful reverie. Aunt ‘Em would not be happy. A cow flew past, looking neither distressed nor perturbed, but rather nonplussed, maybe if Dorothy had had the time to read its face.

Next came Auntie ‘Em, knitting and rocking in her old wooden chair.

“Auntie ‘Em, Auntie ‘Em” Dorothy screamed. “It’s happening again.”

“And I told you not to sleep near the window,” the callous woman cackled, laughing so hard that she rocked too far backward.

Dorothy brought her hands to her face in anguish. “Oh, n-o-o-o,” she moaned. “You’re off your rocker.”

The crowing of her loving auntie morphed madly into something more horrid; her neighbor, the cranky spinster Mrs. Gulch, pedaled past, wailing, “I’ll get you, my little pretty.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, and my little dog too,” Dorothy said, rolling her eyes. “But you are not green, and you blew your cue.”

Why was she talking in rhyme, she wondered?

“Toto can’t come out to play anyway,” the girl said to herself, her head in her hands. “He’s not by my side which is just where he should be.”

Poor Dorothy was ready to cry, but then the house jolted and took an unexpected turn, a left instead of a right, a counter instead of a clock, an up instead of a down. Mean Mrs. Gulch, gone, yet all but forgotten crashed head on into the wooden window shutter with such force that it began to splinter to pieces.

“It’s m-e-l-l-l-t-ing,” she screamed.”

Dorothy could barely hear her over the rush of the wind. The house rocked and rose on the wave of the wind and then suddenly soared downward through a salt tinged blizzard of mist. Dorothy ripped that last lumber lifeline from the wicked Ms. G – there was never any evidence that she had ever been a Mrs. anyway – and climbed precariously upon it, convinced for sure that this time the house would not survive. Placing the pointed remains of the shutter beneath her feet, she eased forward, spreading her legs far enough apart to maintain equilibrium. Kicking the bed aside, Dorothy gripped the edges of the window frame, crouched low and catapulted herself out of the tiny bedroom and into the maelstrom, paddling hard into the wave wind and surfed sailed into the unknown.

The collision had not been kind. Most aren’t she assumed upon awaking in another sparse room so similar to the one she had just left behind. At least she hadn’t killed anyone this time.

“Oh my,” she sighed. “Now, where am I?”

She sat straight up in alarm upon a bed somewhat like her own. As her vision cleared, her eyes fell on a most horrific sight, a house, her house. Beneath it, two black and white striped stockinged legs protruded; a matching pair of ruby red slippers adorned each foot.

“Oh my,” she groaned again, raising her forearm to her forehead. “I can’t surf anymore. I’m so sleepy. Oh, please, I have to rest for just a minute.

Toto, where’s Toto?

Damn dog,” Dorothy sighed and abruptly fainted.

Tom

Jan 2025

Goldilocks Grimly

 

On her usual walk Goldilocks came upon a cabin deep in the woods. There was a faint glow coming from the windows. She couldn’t help herself and walked up to the door which creaked open. There was a scent of metal.

She was hungry and noticed on the table were three bowls. The first one was cold, sticky and red, not sweet. The second one was gray and thick tendons. The third bowl tasted like iron, she gagged and spit it out.

Goldilocks was shaken and motioned to a chair, it wobbled under her weight and she caught sight of claw marks and fur and bones on and around the chair and blood stains leading up the stairs. 

She ascended the creaky stairs and found three beds. Something smelled bad around the smallest one. She pulled the blanket back and found a shabby and torn dress soggy with fresh blood.

She didn’t hear the growls behind her as she screamed.

Three mysterious, vague figures rather ghostlike and unnatural stood in the doorway. Glowing amber eyes, paws and glimmering nails shown in the lamplight.

“You are going to taste just right,” the largest one snarled as they all lunged.

The cabin became silent once more.

Georgia

Delivery Nation

 

We’re the delivery nation 
Walking to the store 
that’s no more 
Who walks to the store anymore?

Delivery 24/7 
Forget about 7-11
think they have gone to heaven 
Open your door 
it’s there - your big score 

Strangers walking in and out your building 
Making their living while your head is spinning 

We’re the delivery nation 
Delivery Nation
Send a text, make a call, scan a QR 
Now you’ve become a Delivery Star 

Will delivery nation ever travel and take a forever vacation?
Will brick and mortar be no more? 
Here we are
Delivery Nation 
Delivery, delivery 

Have we gotten very far?

Laura M.

The REAL Story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears

 

Greetings, everyone!  My name is Albert Rabbit, and I am here today to present to you the real story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. There are two things I want to tell you before I go on.  One, I was there at the three bears’ house where everything took place and, two, after you hear the true version, you will be as shocked as I was. Let’s begin…

Three very sweet bears lived in a cozy house in the woods.  There was Mama Bear, Papa Bear and Baby Bear. They were a very happy family and loved doing everything together.  One sunny and warm morning after breakfast, the three bears decided to take a hike through the woods. They were so excited and busy chatting with each other, they forgot to lock the front door.

Now, along comes Goldilocks who is also out walking through the woods on this beautiful morning. As she makes a turn to the right, she spies a lovely house which just happens to be the bears’ residence. She quietly tip toes up to the front door and turns the doorknob.  The door is unlocked so she lets herself in.  I, Albert Rabbit was out in a nearby garden digging for carrots but when I saw Goldilocks enter the bears’ house, I stopped what I was doing, hopped to a window and peeked inside.

I saw Goldilocks do all those things like taste the porridge, lie on the beds and rock in the rocking chairs.  But then, I saw the most unimaginable sight.  Goldilocks removed her bonnet, wig, frock, and shoes. Hiding underneath her disguise was a very unattractive hermit crab!  Knowing that hermit crabs are always looking for a bigger house to dwell in, I, Albert Rabbit knew just what crabby was up to. Since the house was empty and the door unlocked, hermit crab made up his mind to become a squatter and completely take over the house.

When the bears returned from their hike, they knew someone had been in their house.  Papa Bear started walking cautiously through the rooms. Suddenly Papa Bear came upon hermit crab who told him that he was taking over his home. Upon hearing this, sweet Papa Bear was sweet no more.  Papa Bear let out an earth-shattering roar and then swatted hermit crab with his huge paw.  Hermit crab turned around and sped out of the house.

When everything calmed down, I, Albert Rabbit, was able to hop away from the window and out of the garden.  As I hopped home, I was shaking like a leaf.

So, there you have it. As I, Albert Rabbit, am your witness, the real story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears is Goldilocks was not some pleasant, young girl curious about the Three Bears’ house. She was a hermit crab in disguise trying to become a squatter and take over the bear’s house.

 This happens all the time so lock your doors and guard your house!

Ellen
Jan. 2025

The Three Little Pigs - - The TRUE Story

 

                Well, we all know the story of the Three Little Pigs, but we have only been told part of the story, which is a diluted version of this children’s tale.

                Let us refresh our memory on the story. The first little pig had built his house of straw, and the wolf blew his house down and ate the pig. The second little pig built his house of sticks, but while slightly stronger than straw the wolf was still able to blow the house down and eat the pig. Finally, the wolf came upon the brick house of the third little pig who obviously had more forethought than his deceased brothers and the wolf was not able to blow it down. The wolf now thought to climb up onto the roof of the house and come down the chimney. Meanwhile the pig had set a large cauldron of water to boil on the fireplace which scalded the wolf as he dropped into the pot, causing the wolf to run away in defeat. This is where the story ends. In reality the wolf held a grudge and now had a vendetta against the pig for outsmarting him, which the pig surmised.

                During my investigative reporting I was able to dig up the final chapter of this unsightly tale of violence, hatred, intrigue, and revenge which had been intentionally buried in the opinion of this reporter as it did not show the wolf in a favorable light. This was the opinion of the infamous Wolf League which had always been spoken of in whispers and inferences, a secret society for the propagation and advancement of wolves at the expense of defenseless prey animals. Only now at considerable risk to the life, liberty and livelihood of this reporter can the full story be told.

                In addition to being a talented brick layer the pig was also a writer and regularly submitted articles on restaurants and recipes to the local newspaper, The Pleasantville Gazette which had a large readership in the area. The literary pig submitted a fictitious article suggesting that wolf meat was the most delectable, delicious, delicacy imaginable, and invariably versatile for creating a wide range of dishes from stew to roast and resulting in complimentary adulation for any chef who cooked with it. The article was widely read and soon the wives in the town were encouraging their husbands to go wolf hunting for the meat to be used for the main dish of a future dinner party.

                As a result, the wolf population of the area quickly depleted including the pig’s nemesis with his boiled buttocks. Ironically it turned out that wolf meat was delicious, and the pig became famous because of his article on this previously overlooked delicacy. The pig lived happily ever after.

Jim
Jan 2025

Never Leave

 

The place I would love to stay and never, ever leave is my bed 

 No, I’m not insane in the head, I would have all I possibly need in my bed 

 

Snuggling with all my pillows and lounging in my pjs would be so much fun 

My comforter is huge, warm, and fluffy but doesn’t weigh a ton 

 

 Don’t have to get up for anything I desire 

Alexa has taken care of that down to the wire 

 

No more winter coats, gloves and hats 

Staying in bed would take care of that 

 

And think of all the drama I would miss 

To never, ever leave my bed would be absolute bliss

Ethyl H.

Re: "Under Milk Wood" Jan 11 Writing Prompt - - by Rosa

 

There used to be a Barnes and Noble in Forest Hills that’s since been replaced by a Target, that I think about often. It was the first bookstore I’d ever been to, and it was also the first place that I ever felt like I belonged to. I was fourteen when I first saw the dark green banner waving in the wind, tucked between bricked shops. I hadn’t worked up the nerve to step inside yet, intimidated by the brand name alone. As far as I knew, Barnes & Noble stores were only ever seen in nice areas of the city, and now here it was, not in my neighborhood, but close enough. 

 

I had entertained the idea of going inside on my own, I’d planned it all in my head, I’d pass by after school, a pitstop on my way home. It would be an adventure in a way only people who have a routine know, breaking up a monotonous day is liberating, rebellious even, and I was about to do it. 

 

I got off the bus, walking with purpose, but slowed down the closer I got, nerves settling in. I remember hesitating outside the coffee shop next to the bookstore where I caught a whiff of coffee beans as people exited with their book purchases in one hand and a coffee in the other. Everyone seemed so grown up in comparison to my fourteen-year-old self, dressed in my school uniform. But this was my adventure, I thought to myself, and today I would be brave and try something new. That’s when I realized I had been worried over nothing, inside the bookstore, kids of all ages were browsing shelves, both in friend groups and alone. Some were dressed in their own school uniforms and the other students were easily identified by their bulky book bags. 

 

There were two levels; on the ground floor were magazines, cookbooks, history books, self-help books, a music section—the adult sections. But the next floor up, now that was my section. The young adult section was broken up by genres; science fiction, fantasy, romance, comics, historical fiction, endless possibilities were spread around me. I even gave the study help books a cursory look. I remember my heart beating fast, excited about seeing so many books, as readers everywhere know that once you step into a bookstore, and you spot a book you’ve read, it’s like greeting an old friend. 

 

Here was a place where readers of all ages existed on the same wavelength, we were all here to look at books, to see what new companion would come home with us. I love libraries, I do, but it’s different when a book is yours, one you can hold in your hands, underline lines you love and leave store receipts to bookmark your favorite passages. 

 

I could’ve spent hours browsing the shelves, maybe even forever, I didn’t want to leave, but my adventure had to end soon, or I’d risk worrying my mom by coming home late. I left with the promise to come back soon. 

 

Over the years, throughout high school, I would visit Barnes & Noble with friends, where we’d talk and browse books, even ordering our own cups of coffee next door, our book purchases secured on our other hand. In this store among hundreds of books, I’d found a place of my own, the result of a deviation from my routine and doing something new, even if it scared me at first. 

 

Years later, that store no longer exists. Barnes & Noble retail stores are still around, just not in Queens anymore. Instead, I visit their location on Fifth Avenue, a bold green banner bearing the name of their bookstore flutters overhead as I enter where not much has changed; school kids browse tall brown shelves and tables stacked with books. Other customers mingle on the first floor--and all the other floors where other small adventures await me both inside and outside this store.

Rosa 

 

Belonging

 

The corner of my world is my apartment—cluttered and chaotic, a testament to personal battles fought with time and energy. Within these walls live thousands of memories: sunlight spilling over old furniture, the comforting scent of fresh coffee, the laughter of my children, and the soft padding of pets long gone. I know the confidential details of neighbors and hold the secrets, resilience, and creativity that this haven protects. Warm and inviting, this lived-in space is more than home—it’s my sanctuary. Here, I belong - - - tethered to a place I would never, never leave. 

Georgia

A Christmas Curiosity

 

I felt the wind and saw alternating red and green lights streaming out of the tunnel as the massive train car pushed the air through the tunnel and paper cups and defunct lottery tickets ran haphazardly along the track before the train, as I was caught in the breeze my hair flying behind me and I saw a wondrous sight coming towards me as the one car F train was being driven by an elf who was just barely tall enough to see over his display panel and out the front window of the train. The pointy tips of the elf's ears and the top of his pointy hat were visible. Instead of a continual stream of white light from the two train lamps, the left lamp was a bright forest green, and the right lamp was a crimson red and they took turns lighting the way as the train danced down the track to the sound of Christmas carols! As the train came to a stop and the doors opened, I was treated to a jolly” HAPPY HOLIDAYS! from the assembled crowd within. The car was packed with all the characters you might expect to find on a rush hour train at the North Pole, all late for their shift in Santa's workshop! It was a brightly lit scene and the smell of twisted pretzels and roasted chestnuts permeated the air while the car was decorated with arched garlands of gold, silver, red and green. There were threaded strings of popcorn displayed throughout the car while brightly lit hand blown glass Christmas bulbs hung down from the ceiling and large thick candy canes wrapped in cellophane were looped through the steel hanging straps. Each traveller had either a cup of eggnog or hot chocolate depending on their preference except for the tin soldiers who were on duty while obsequious elf waiters served petit fours throughout the car.

                There were Santas of various styles and sizes involved in an animated discussion on proper sled packing procedures, while a collection of icy cold snowmen who were somehow not melting in the warm car with their tall black top hats and wool scarves talked shop and discussed the latest in snowball forming techniques, while a large group of choir boys practiced their octaves on one side of the train while carolers dressed in their 19th century garb sang old Christmas carols on the other side. All the voices from both sides of the car somehow harmonized together and it was more beautiful than either group would have been alone. Tin soldiers guarded the entrances of the Christmas car taking their stoic stance and responsibilities very seriously, standing straight and tall while a collection of Nutcrackers chomped away from a red bucket filled with walnuts making a terrible mess on the pristine immaculately clean floor, to the unending joy of a family of white Arctic squirrels who had managed to stow away for the ride to New York City and were happy to police the area, cleaning up all the shells and eating all the delectable walnut morsels that were left behind.

                Like an avian master of ceremonies a brilliant white Christmas goose wrapped in a crimson red scarf hurried around the car making sure that everyone was happy and had all that they wished for, including a homeless man, who had been on the train before the group's arrival, and now found himself wrapped in a brand new Christmas comforter and supplied with a mug of hot chocolate that he cupped in his ruddy  hands, smiling like a child before a beautiful Christmas tree and resting the mug on his unopened wrapped present complete with a large red bow.

                The subway car took off speeding along the track like a high-speed bullet train, silent and smooth streaming along the track seamlessly as if there were no other trains on the track ahead of us. Suddenly we pulled into the well-lit station of 47-50 ST ROCKEFELLER CENTER delineated in shiny ceramic tiles and everyone except the homeless man who vigorously waved goodbye, exited the train and ran up the stairs to the street rushing over to Radio City Music Hall where Santa was being honored by opening the show for the first performance of the season in his own character! While Santa was busy starting the show we all met the new class of Rockettes along with a few veterans from previous years, they were all very tall, beautiful, and excited to start the show. Next, we went over to keep the living nativity animals calm by petting and feeding them. The elves sprinkled fairy dust on the animals which seemed to make them happy and confident for their opening night performance. Unlit and dressed in black the stagehands pushed Santa in his painted plywood sled preceded by 8 beautifully painted reindeers on quiet rubber wheels hidden below the sled onto the great stage. A brass Jingle ball fell from the sled and rolled towards me which I picked up and put in my pocket to avoid a tripping hazard. Santa finished his lines and the curtains closed to tumultuous applause and we wished good luck to the dazzling Rockettes as they kicked their way out onto the stage in formation as the curtain reopened. The nativity animals were calm now and had lost their stage fright with the help of the elves.

                Our entourage left Radio City Music Hall And headed east along 50th St. towards Rockefeller Center making a right turn on 5th Ave to see all the dazzling holiday displays as all the buildings were excited and proud to be dressed in their holiday best with red and green, gold and silver lights with evergreen bows and buildings wrapped in lights like Christmas presents highlighted in red neon bows. We stopped to say hello to Atlas who was still stoically holding up the heavens as his punishment from Zeus dictated for his role in the Titanomachy incident.

“GREETINGS SANTA!” the massive strong man bellowed. “A very Merry Christmas to you!” said Atlas.

“The same to you Atlas, I only wish that I could relieve you of your burden for one night, but I know that this is forbidden.” Santa exclaimed.

                Atlas nodded solemnly.

“Could I ask you to give my greetings to my brother Prometheus down on the ice rink as he continues his daily torture of being a source of nourishment for the Great Eagle feeding on his regenerative liver, and all because of his faux pas in reference to giving the gift of fire to man, a simple slip of the tongue I might add?”

“Yes, I would be happy to do that,” said Santa.Santa made a mental note to speak to Zeus about a reprieve for the two brothers encapsulated in metal for the rest of eternity.

We moved into the Rockefeller Center complex now passing the lighted angels with their glittering trumpets trumpeting and viewed the ice rink teeming with skaters. There was a strong wind blowing as we caught our first view of the great tree, the largest Christmas tree in New York City. One hundred flags whipped around the rink in the strong breeze. A huge crowd of skaters moved in a counterclockwise fashion moving in synchrony around the circular rink overseen by Prometheus with a man in a white beard and a red suit talking to him! It was then that we realized that Santa had disappeared and reappeared with the brother of Atlas, Prometheus. Prometheus appreciated the greetings from his brother as they never got to see each other anymore although they were each encased in metal only a few hundred feet apart.

                Now our group returned to the brightly lit 5th Ave and walked along in a southerly direction smelling roasted chestnuts and twisted soft pretzels from various peddlers along with food trucks from all over New York City and inspired by the  cuisine of every corner of the world selling their sumptuous delicacies until we reached 42nd St. and the Great Library where Santa spoke to Leo Astor and Leo Lennox sprinkling them with some fairy dust and releasing them from their pedestals to walk with us over to the Christmas village at Bryant park with their solemn promise to be on best behavior and not chase pigeons, dogs or horses! Upon reaching Bryant Park, Santa sprinkled the sculpture of Gertrude Stein with fairy dust and after she came to life, they discussed her Paris salon meetings.

                The park was behind the library on the West side of the block which had originally been the end point of the Croton reservoir system for New York City but now have been transformed into the library. Nine floors of state-of-the-art subterranean reference books sat silently below the park waiting to help the public and scholars from around the world with their inquiries and research. I wondered how many people celebrating in this holiday village tonight were aware of this history and what a treasure lay below their feet. Our group of merry revelers were crowded together in a small circle as the village was very crowded when everything started to fade away and I found myself with my nose pushed up against the glass of the Christmas shelf of my curio cabinet and I realized that all this had  been a dream.On previous occasions I had reflected that my Christmas curio shelf was so crowded that it resembled a subway car at rush hour.However I  found  a ticket stub in my pocket for the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and the jingle ball that I remembered picking up earlier that evening? This entire adventure had been a curious, curio conundrum!

Jim January ‘25