Ransom – Tale Weaver 

It’s with great horror I open the door.

A note!

Unique characters. Beautifully crafted work.  Such style and grace!  Uhh…

“No! Oh,no!” My eyes bulge from their sockets. “What does it mean?! What did they take? Who are they?  Why do these evil people have such good taste in crafting a note?”

I’m horrified.   Still drawn to the pretty letters.  I’m sad.  I’m feeling a lose.  How could someone just take my most precious thing?

“What’s missing?” My mind crafts pictures

“My Commander Ren and Stimpy action figures!  These are sick people! Twisted! Deplorable!  No, they are still here on fireplace mantel.  Next to Grandfather’s mantel clock from 1896.” The pain of being lost on thought decries my voice.

“Oh snap!  It’s my leather bound set of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy! Oh these are ruthless sickest.  They probably parked in front of the fire hydrant too.  Or the Handicapped space.” My feet pick up the pace.

“Oh it’s still there!  What the hell did they take?!” Anger surfaces within me “Where’s my wife?  They took Collen! Oh,they’ll return her in about two hours.  Unless she’s bound and gagged.  Then I have the afternoon free.”

“Who are you talking too!” A voice comes through a door.

“Oh, I thought you were kidnapped.  I had this note.  My most precious is gone.  I can’t figure out what it is?  Isn’t this crazy?”  I try to reason with her

“You idiot!  The dog!  They took the dog!”  She reminds me in a very hostile way.

“Oh that’s what’s missing?  Well, they get in touch.  It says so right here on the note.” I’m relieved.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/10/20/tale-weaver-90-ransom/

Squirrel

Photo credit: Louise

“Squirrel! Come on!  Come on!  UGGH! He’s gone..” Buddy drops his nose.  At least get a whiff.
“Easy! Calm down Buddy.  Ripping off my arm shortens the walk. There are other squirrels.”  Mike tries to look at the park between tugs.

“Ssssshhhh! There’s another, stop. Stay still. Ok, slowly walk to the left.  Come on!  Move it!  His back is turned.  We can get him.” Buddy leans and begins to drag his human 

“Easy!  Easy! Buddy! We don’t want to get bit on the nose again do we?”  Mike sees the squirrel too.

“I’ll behave.  Really!  Just a bit closer!” Buddy speaks between panting.  Leaning hard enough to not need his front feet on the ground any more.

Mike looses the lead. Buddy is off like a shot.

“Buddy stop!  Now! Buddy!  Buddy!”  Mike yells as he tries to run after the dog.

Barking tells him where Buddy went.  Behind a grove of trees, a circle of squirrels  have their query in sight.

“You think it’s funny chasing us!” The leader steps toward him.

Buddy looks side to side barking.  They have caught him.  

Mike looks at the squirrels and his dog.  “He has got to be the dumbest animal ever.  Just like last time he got bit.”

The squirrels see the human and bounce off like they are innocent critters.

Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, details are available at https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/10/17/fffaw-challenge-week-of-october-18-2016/

Dreamquest

photo by Rebecca Johnston – here’s a bigger version
He went to sleep with image of the deer and a dream sack from the Dinè spirit shop.  He was told be the deer,think the deer, and find the deer.

When he awake he was the deer and it was the first day of hunting season.
Written as part of a challenge called The line tales, details are available at https://only100words.xyz/2016/09/29/three-line-tales-week-thirty-five/ 

The Wolf –  Beware the Red Cape

The grass at the edge of the woods offers places to stalk prey.  But the wolf isn’t hunting.  His attention is on the bulk of a human called the Huntsman.  His black hair like flowing coal.  His eyes locked on the wolf’s friend Jezzibelle.  The both of them watch a dance of youth through wildflowers.  Her hair slowly emerges like a yellow bloom as she moves.  The Huntsman hold his ground while being drawn in at the same time.

“Humans are so hard to figure out.  They stay at the edges and expect to meet in the center together somehow.  It looks like one of them will get what they want, he always does.”  The wolf sighs.  He has seen enough.

The wolf sees a rabbit hop into the woods.  His mouth forms a snarl.  Small rabbit is a tender nugget.  He starts a silent trot.  The bunny works his way down a wide path. He’s is unaware of the shadow moving closer.  The wolf gets close enough to taste the bunny.  The favorite part of hunting know the moment of the kill is at hand.  Your hand.  As his smile gets too large to open his mouth the bunny makes a sudden right.  Hopping graceful at lightning speed.  The wolf sits back and can only watch as the bunny disappears into the woods.

His belly growls.  Hunger is a constant companion for the wolf.  The is never a meal to turn down.  His thoughts of the girl have gone away.  The Huntsman has him concerned.  If he stalks her.  Then he knows the wolf.  Wolves don’t let anyone follow them.  It time to do something about the might hunter.  But first, the stomach needs an easy meal.

The wolf trots down the center of the wide path.  Filtered sunlight come and go across the way.  Dark patches require a little more attention.  Someone maybe be waiting for him to eat them.  Alas, nothing turns up.  Until a clearing catches his eye, a same patch of grass  leads to a couple Black Walnut trees and a hickory.  A small cabin rests under them.  Rock faces and  brown wood mix with old plaster.  The roof has a few patches of moss and grass growing on it.  The wolf has been here before.  He was welcome visitor at one time.

He cautiously approaches the cabin.  Slinking along the wood side of the grass, he circles the cabin three times.  The are no sounds inside or outside.  His meal might be right here.  His slow approach to the front door is straight foward.  The door is the only way in or out.

He tries the latch on the door.  A simple catch any nose could lift does just fine.  The door lets in light severally lacking inside.  A wide beam rushes in the foot wide opening.  It crosses a wooden block table, a ladder back chair, part of a fireplace, before crashing into the far wall, only to bounce back on to an elderly woman.   The solitary figure lifts up just enough to notice.  Eyeglasses reflect sparkles of light.  

The wolf walks in and sits just inside the door.  He looks about the old cabin.  It’s dark.  He lets his eyes adjust as he takes in the view.  The cabin is a lost hour of time.  The cast iron ware has layers of carbon.  The wood furniture worn to fit particular bodies over the years.  The fabric making curtains were feed bags of long lost animals raised under sapling trees.  The simple plain large room just big enough to hold a lifetime of memories.

“You have come for me, Mr Wolf?  I was hoping it was my granddaughter.  She is due.  Well, overdue as always!  Matters little to you I am sure.  Be quick about it!  Are you the one that ate from my table?!  Now come to consume me?  I’m a tough gristle filled woman.  No tenderness to savor.”  She doesn’t feel the need to rise up much.  She coughs the tired cough of old age.

“It’s just business.  We are here to clean up after the world.  No malice!  No hostility! I remember your kindness.  Our pack never stole one chicken from you. Can I bring you something first?” The wolf stays in place next to the door.  His ears focused outside.  He is keenly aware he got here first.  But unaware of who all is still coming.

“You are too kind…’before I eat you…do you need something?’ I could not be dinner to a more polite and socially graced beast.”  Her cough breaks up her words. “No, I have waited for death for weeks on end.  His scythe used to harvest those more ready to meet their demise.  I’m hungry and feeble.”

“Very well.  Death doesn’t make the house calls he used to.  His thrill is in those who are unaware that he sat at their table, drank their wine, smoked their tobacco before he cut them down.  He take them in their prime or in the crib.  Sorry, it is the scavenger for the elderly.” The wolf slowly creeps up to her bedside.  There is a moment when his heart sinks.  His hollow stomach pushes it back in place. 

His face enlongates.  Great yellow fangs come forward.  His eyes once lively and chocolate brown, blacken and hollow.  The hair on his nape jumps upright by a full inch.  His forelimb muscles tighten to reveal strength few see twice.  His game is to pounce.  He lands on her chest staring straight through her soul by way of her eyes.

“My rod and staff comfort me.  I fear not…” Grandmother never gets to finish.

The wolf drags her out of bed.  Her pulls her limp body outside into the yard.  She deserves dignified end.  Not the slowly death she was lingering for.

He makes quick work of her trying to make his get away sooner rather than later.  He belly is calming.  His spirit starts to lift.  It’s far better not to know your meal. His right hind leg feels a burning sensation.  Pain, burning pain erupts into the muscle.  His legs kick him instinctively into motion.  He can’t run like he wants to.  He turns to see the Huntsman.  His bow a long line across him, arrow notched ready for flight.  A red cape trying to stay out of the way behind him. The arrow sails next to him.  Better not be here for another.  He turns to run.  The second and third catch him in to left leg.  He is hobbled.  If he can make the woods, he can bite the son of a bitch on the way out.

The Huntsman jogs across the field.  He makes haste closing on the wounded animal.  His axe is out.  His favorite part is the kill.  This is special.  He seen the wolf with Jezzibelle before she went into the meadow.  The wolf had played her.  He would gut that mangy piece of vermin for this.

The wolf hears the feet coming.  He knows his end is here.  Just get him close enough to wound the hunter.  Noble death at least.  His chance comes and he barrel rolls with the hunter feet away.  His fangs snatch at air.  The Huntsman drops the axe across his belly slicing him collar to groin.  In a collapsing mass, entrails of grandmother are revealed.  The Huntsman rears back at the sight.  He turns to an approaching Jezzibelle.

Her face is compact and she is crying.  Her eyes much like a raccoon.  Her hair no longer glowing and the red cape has fallen back to a streamer.  She has yet to see the worst of it.

“Grandmother is gone!!  She is gone!  What did you do?  The wolf did this because of you….”  Her words fail as reality shows her fears do make life true. “How am I supposed to explain this?  I mean if we don’t…. She is still alive!  Go get someone!  Who do we get for this?”

Her meltdown has just began.  

The trail of breadcrumbs starts here…

https://any1mark66.wordpress.com/2016/08/16/beware-the-red-cape-the-beginning/?preview=true

https://any1mark66.wordpress.com/2016/08/17/beware-the-red-cape-into-the-woods/?preview=true

https://any1mark66.wordpress.com/2016/08/18/the-huntsman-beware-the-red-cape/?preview=true

Russell and His Cause 

Russell stands in front of three place of shame.  His homemade sign in blood red letters  “Monkeys aren’t Beasts of Burden!!”  He paces in circles less hoping for a friendly supporter.  There are none.

“You, idiot with the sign!  The monkey serves people peanuts!  Are you that stupid!  It’s a pet!” A half lite drunk strangers out the door.  He throws a peanut at him for effect.

“Sir, it’s always innocent.  They don’t live here.   How can he eat properly?”  Russell queries his assailant.

“He’s a fucking monkey! He eats peanuts, drinks beer and dances. He lives better than me!  He drinks for free.”  The drunk wanders off.

“Well, maybe I should get a picture of that!”  Russell puts the sign down and knows he can save the poor little monkey.

The following morning paper documents it for the world to see.

“Animal activist killed by monkey claiming self defense”

Tumbleweed 

Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, details are available at  https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/08/01/fffaw-challenge-week-of-august-2-2016/
Tumbleweed paced around the old cars.

He looked inside at the interior. Then got spooked by the image in the side mirror. The horse in the mirror run away from the car too.

‘Hmmm, they put them car things out to pasture. I wonder how that other horse fit in that tiny place.   The humans are so strange.  At least, they left room to rub up against those pieces on front and back’

Tumbleweed looks around the corral.  No sign of that other horse.  He sighs.

Buddy

image

Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  Details,can be found at https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/07/04/fffaw-challenge-week-of-07-05-2016/

“Mom left me again.” Buddy wags his tail. “Where’s she going?   I could have stayed in the back seat. I want to hang my head out thewindow…..Now I’m with
Jake and Buster.”

Buddy turns his head.   Jake and Buster have a pull toy.   They are tugging trying to pull it away.   Buddy turns back to see if Mom is coming back yet.    Buddy lays down and barks.

“This works in the back yard” He wags his tail a little.

Jake comes over and drops the pull toy on his back.   Then runs to the fence post to pee.

“Jake, class act…all the way!”  Buddy rollls his eyes.

“Buddy, she isn’t coming.   Get over there and play.   You’ll feel better.   You know you can’t relay on people.  Them and their kids….it’s all about taking time away from us. I mean can a kid fetch anything? They are useless.  Ok, they feed us their food.  But what’s that worth?  They aren’t eating it anyway.”

“Whatever!   She’ll be back for me!  She likes me.   I’m a rescue.”  Buddy keeps his vigil going.

“Hey, maybe she’ll liter box train you too.  You sound like a cat!   Get a hold of yourself!   You’re a dog!   Act like one! ” Jake grabs the pull toy and runs off.

“Ooooohhhh, she had to come back.   Wait, did he just call me a cat?!  That son of a bitch!”  Buddy runs off to catch Jake.  He’ll show him which one is like a cat.

Tommi takes on Wild Turkey


I have no pictures of the encounter.  But these are the participants.  Above weighing in at 7 1/2  pounds is Tommi Girl, defender of the household, Queen of her domain,  fuzzy ruler of the backyard, fifteen years old.  Below, Tess Turkey, thirty pounds worth of bad ass bird.  Notorious territorial, secretive, elusive, well not so much any more.

I have three cats in the yard.  I’m pulling weeds.  I have a handful of weeds and partial behind an above ground pond.  I turn Tommi is eyeballing the turkey.  She is clucking at the cat.  Turkeys apparently cluck to warning something they are nervous.  Tommi is staying put.  I am within twenty five feet of the turkey myself.  I start to collect cats.  I grab the two other cats, leaving Tommi.  I’m thinking a bird four time her weight, three times taller than her……she wouldn’t try nothing.

Well, I turn after throwing two cats in.  I’m expecting the door, me, the cat staring the turkey down will all lead to the secretive bird flying off.  The turkey struts away from the cat clucking faster.  The cat starting slinking after the turkey.  The two fast walk fifty feet.  I’m thinking the bird is going to stop and peck the hell out of my cat.  Turkeys have gone after people!  Tommi gets within ten feet.  I swing in and pick her up.  The turkey stares at the cat.  As I take Tommi in the turkey follows us to the bird feeder.  She is thought to have poulets in the woods.  But from inside Tommi went to her window looking a lot like this

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