Beware the Red Cape – The Beginning 

“Jezzibelle! Jezzibelle! Where are you?”  Mama calls out.  

She washes her hands with lye soap as she looks out the open window.  Mama is nervous about sending the girl off alone.  She is of age now, but so easily swayed from her chores.  Mama knows the family trait to do the easy gains runs deep in her.  But Mama’s love can cure all ills.  Her Mama told her the way to be.  It’s that figure Jezzibelle is developing she is more concerned with. 

Her own Mama has not responded to the traditional cures.  Leaches have proved ineffective to her maladies.  Herbal wraps have made her skin glow in the palest of white, lacking the rudiness of life.  Charcoal chunks have pasted through her without taking the problem with them.

Mama shuffles through bottles of homemade wine.  Dandelion wine, it’s pale yellow color and gentle flavor would be prefect for a picnic.  Today it’s a message to get well.  A smoked chunk of beef rests inside a burlap sack.  Two half pieces of bread complete the basket.  A single sage smudge stick wrapped inside kept out and bugs.

“Where is that girl?  I shouldn’t trust her.  My Mama isn’t getting better since Jezzibelle has taken over the role of care taker.  I hope Jezzibelle isn’t a burden to her.  Mama loves her so.  The red cape of velvet came from her grandmother.  It gave her a certain glow of vibrant womanhood at the young age.  And I remember being that age….The day Derrick came to the farm…I could careless he was so much older.  There are men waiting to get a hold of her.  Her uncles tell me how much she would fetch us.  Maybe the men know best.  It’s a lot of money.  She will need someone to keep her well.”  Mama reflects on the regrets of life and what future her daughter will be strattled with.

“Mama, what is it.  I was playing with Mindy’s dog.  He’s so cute.  I wish we could have that dog.  He keeps the ghastly beasts from the forest at bay.  Please, could we get one! I really think it would be best.  They haven’t lost a single chicken in months. And I would…” Jezzibelle tries to plead her case.

“Enough child!  You know what I need from you.  Take that basket to grandmother!  She hasn’t been by.  She still bed ridden.  You must take care of her for me.  I packed it well.  It’s early.  The field and woods will be cool.  Make haste child.  If it gets too warm the animals will smell the food.  They will stalk you, and steal the food.  Those ugly old wolves might hunt you too.  Take your cape!  Grandmother will only recognize you in it.  Her vision was really poor last week.”  Mama is nervous and shaking.  “Don’t you snoop around her corners!  She will hear you!  She doesn’t like snoops.  You may get her home one day.”

“Mama, I love grandmother.  Will she be ok?  I fear she’ll die.  I’ll never have her long enough. I want her to know my babies.  I don’t want to live there without her.” Jezzibelle kicks at her feet and tries to avoid her mother’s gaze.  

“Stay on the path!  Don’t stop to talk to anyone!  There are strangers who might want this food or try to take you away.  A pretty girl like you needs to be careful around strangers.” Mama warns her.

“You worry too much, Mama.  I’ll be fine.  I have seen a few people in my trips.  They know me now.  They will help me.”  Jezzibelle puts her hand on Mama’s arm.

Mama looks at her with a mix of unsure feelings and hope. Her heart lends itself to worrying about one thing at a time.  


My house is built on sand

Walls made of dreams

Kaleidoscope paint color

Images of pasts that never were

Thousand clocks waiting on right time

The alarms rusted in situ

​Hall is my gallery

Panels show dreams of romance

Distant rooms lay unused

Was I wrong to build a house on Maybe? 

<a href="">Maybe</a>

Tale Weaver Fairyland Tales #77- Ugly Duckling

The troll peers out from his dilapidated bridge.  He grabs handful of gravel.   Throwing one stone at a time into the stream as it bubbles happily along.

“All these merry people, ruining my view! Happy they run after each other and play with dogs.  Uuugghhhhh! What is wrong with these people!”  He bemoans to the wind.

A bright blue Frisbee plops into the stream. The tell eyes anything near his bridge with contempt.

“Who goes near my bridge!” His deep horrible troll voice growls shaking loose pieces of concrete from above. 

Suzy climbs down the side of the bridge.  Her pineapple yellow dress showing a couple green stripes for her trip down. Her twin braids make her look like an eight year old doll. Her eyes are little shocked at the sight of a seven foot troll.

“Mister.  Can you help me? I can’t swim and I need my brothers Frisbee back. I kind of borrowed it.”  Suzy is half shugging shoulders and looking indirectly at him. 

“Why should I?! You barged into my home!”  The green troll eyes narrow and his twisted smile shows his yellow pointy teeth. 

“You have a nice smile.   I hope I can get big like you some day.”  Suzy oozes cute as she talks, looking up at the troll.

“Why, maybe you will get big like me.   You really like my smile?”  The troll looks at her confused.

“Yes.   I know I shouldn’t be here.   But I get in trouble easy.   I didn’t mean to interupt you, sir.”  She partially turns. 

“No wait.   I’ll help.   I’m used to scaring people. I’m not sure why you aren’t scared.” The troll smiles a normal smile. 

“You’re not scary.  It’s like the ugly duckling, he doesn’t know he a swan because they call him a duck.  You are nice than I thought a troll could be.” Suzy smiles as the troll heads toward the Frisbee. “You should help people more.  You’re really good at it.”

He smiles and helps her back up the hill. 

Six months later…

The troll starts on “Pimp My Bridge”, a show to help improve the lives of trolls everywhere.  Cleaned up, shaved and dressed to the nines, he’s not an ugly duckling any more. 

Written as part of a challenge called Tales Weaver,details below

Quite Challenge -Day Three

It suits me well,” he said, “to take a blow from thee, but first you must swear that you will seek me out in twelve months and a day, so I can give back what I received from you.”The Green Knight to Sir Gawain, the Canterberry Tales by Chauncer


I would like to thank Angela,,
for nominating me.
Rules stolen from another blog.
Rules for the challenge:

Post one of your favourite quotes(different quote on each day) on three consecutive days. The quote can be from your favourite book, author, or your own.
Nominate three bloggers to challenge them.
Thank the blogger, who nominated you
Oh those greedy aspirations of easy reward from little effort!  My extremely tall friend green knight bows and lets Sir Gawain take an axe to his neck.  Then promptly puts his head back on.  Laughs and disappears into the night from which he came.  He knows that a Knight of the Roundtable is duty bound to honor that in a year and a day what will happen.

So what does this say about us?  All fairy tales, legends, myths have a parable feature.  Ok, the obvious choice never trust a Green Knight with an axe.  But maybe if the deal makes no sense you should question what the hell is going on here?  Maybe an organized group make bad decisions when the leader gets questioned and no one will speak up for them.  Wait, I have the answer in the clarity of the old English that it was originally penned.  Don’t let pride make your decision for you!

See we have King Arthur.  He’s hanging out with a bunch of his Knights.  They are carrying on about their exploits.  Beer or mead is involved.  A strange guy, uninvited walks in and says a have a challenge.  You cut off my head and in 366 days, I’ll come back and return the favor.  Rather than anyone step up.  The king jumps to act because their honor dies if the challenge goes unmet.  The youngest needing to make a name for himself jumps to the chance.  The king isn’t happy his nephew does this, but hey honor is honor.

Group pride!  See where it gets you.  You head whacked off by a Green Knight on a day you know is coming because you needed to make a name for yourself!  Life lesson – never have your head served on a platter because of others.

Where the hell was Merlin anyway?  I bet Morgana had a thing with the Green Knight.  But that’s a different story.  And I’m out of days for this Quote Challenge

But before I leave, the list of three more people.  This is voluntary and fun

Christina, http so://



Can You Spot all the Sea Monsters in this 16th-Century Map? | Atlas Obscura

Hmm, if I lived in Scandinavia would I load the North Sea with monsters to scare away others?

Don’t Talk to Strangers 

This is part of a challenge, I have taken the liberty to alter the wording.  

Moral Mondays: “Never Talk to Strangers” – Moral Mondays
“Oh my God! Are you alright?!”  Natalie screams out.

Her foot comes down on a leg.  A hidden leg of a person that should have been run over when the car was parked.

“I am fine.  You could have killed me.”  The torn clothes cover a body.  The voice is weak older woman.  ” You give me a hand getting up, won’t you sweetie?!”  

Natalie reaches down with a hand and arm under her shoulder.  The feeling is electric.

The women is a sack.  The sack reveals a beauty growing taller than herself.  The dark eyes glow.

“Didn’t anyone tell you, don’t talk to strangers!”  The witch smiles down at the feeble old Natalie.  

Sliding into the heels, the witch walks down the street. 

End of Rainbow


Photo Credit – Alyssa Smith

Everyone in the city had an escape. The hunted, the stalked, the victims of their own device all rally to the point that speaks of freedom.  For the shortest of them the pot of gold slows down the journey.


Online Issues – A Love Story

Cupid drops the whiskey shot in his beer.  The furious bubbles dance like liquid fire.   His attention fixed until the show slowly ends.

He lends back in his bar stool.  Lighting a cigarette.   Then starting at a tablet.  Right index finger flips pictures in strobe like fashion.

“Yo, short stuff!  Kill the heater!   It’s a no smoking place.   What the hell’s wrong with YOU!   Don’t you got something to work on.   Tomorrow’s your big day, right?” Ben the bartender looking for bigger than his six fit frame.

Cupid smashes the cigarette out on the wood bar top.  Without looking up replies “Some day, I’m walking in here.   There’ll be a robot.   It’ll say ‘ hey short stuff’.  I’d put an arrow in your ass. .. but I’d feel bad for the dog in the alley!”

“Hey, touching.   You used to find people and make magic.   You know people really liked you.   What did they actually talk to you?  Did your magical people skills do you in?”  Ben plops down on his elbows trying to catch his attention.

“Look.   People used to go out.  Malls were great.   Now, it’s no weapons allowed!   Can’t do my job without them!   So I troll online.   I’ll start at 3AM.  I’ll make up names close to someone else.  Send a couple messages between two people.   They forget because at 3AM your drunk online.   Next day they scramble to find that day person.  Simply genius.   But the entertainment value, so much better.”  Cupid stops to drain the glass.

“That’s really sick! !  You fraud people into love!  How could you?”  Ben looks a bit angry.

“Ever lie a little to get something pal?!” Cupid stood quickly.  “Hey wait! Gold here.  ‘Looking for genuine lovely soul’.  This week be good.   Happy Valentine’s Day!”


Forest through the Trees


This post was written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Details can be found at

The neophyte walked amongst the trees.   Her postion marked by the pink umbrella.   The trees would keep their distance.   Although several pines looked down at her.   They despised the fencing.   Keeping humans safe.   Just give the trees axes.   It would be fair then.

Sally walked down the black path.   Her fairy wings still not earned.   She looked about her.   The trees stirred the breezes.   She knew the difference.   She dreams of the day when she’ll live in the trees.   Out of the bubble of technology.   Free to be the person she was born to be.

Her eyes reach toward the small rock outcrop ahead.   Within those stones is her peace.  Her communion with nature.   In a fortnight, she will emerge as a fairy.  If she has learned her lessons.

Who Came First


PHOTO PROMPT © Luther Siler

Written as part of challenge for Friday fictioneers. For details Https://

Clucky chicky was far less known.  Lost in the annals of history.  The perpetual struggle of the order of life buried with her.   The sad but true story is very brief.

Her great fall wasn’t even from a wall.   No horses. No kings men.  There was little attempt to our her back together again.

The only thing to say and this picture shows it to be true.   The chicken definitely fell first.