For some reason, some friends and I have been on this kick lately of getting scared. There have been some minor pranks with rubber snakes at my house, and last Saturday we watched a great old movie called, “Wait Until Dark” with Audrey Hepburn. It was fantastic; nostalgic and suspenseful at the same time. So there has been this theme the last couple weeks with the thrill of fear. Anyway, my friend introduced us to a wonderful literary device called, “The Two Sentence Horror Story.” If you google the term, you will see that there are a lot of them out there. Some are really frightening. So we decided to have our own little competition today, and I think I came up with some pretty good ones. Check them out below if you dare . . . . Bwah hah hah ha ha ha. My mouth watered as I bit into the ultimate American cheeseburger. Then I tasted blood. The night crept its way into pure blackness. I reached my hands in front of me, and I felt hot breath and a long protruding nose. I sighed with relief when I woke up from the nightmare of being paralyzed. I…
Two Sentence Horror Stories
Farm Reflection
I remember driving in gravel; hot and dusty on a summer’s day. We called it the “Rocky Road”, bumping along to the rhythm of the car as we drove into my father’s past. Visiting your grandparents is always exciting when you are a child, but when they live on a farm it’s a double blessing. There is something about life on the farm that never changes; a constant sanctuary in an unstable world. There are smells of “real food” in the kitchen, rich clean dirt, and grease from the farm machinery. There is the sight of millions of stars on a night unclouded by city lights. Warm breezes in summer and biting winds in winter both ruffle your hair in their respective seasons. Birds can be heard singing, bees buzzing, and the cycle of life marches on. There is a solemn quiet that comes from the respect of life and growing things, but also a joy in the air that makes you feel you could laugh at any moment. At twenty-eight everything feels the same as it did when I was five years old. The farm probably held that sameness when my father was a child thirty years further back…
Lamplight
There is nothing so comforting as the quiet glow of the lamplight, On a night stand while the world outside is asleep, It is a warm presence; not too bright and not too dim, But the exact disposition of light to calm hurried thoughts at the end of the day; A beacon guiding souls to distant lands hidden between the lines of a bedtime story, During the day’s earliest and latest hours it is a reminder that you are never truly alone.
A Tuesday Sunset
This is the view I came home to today after work. It’s miraculous how the everyday grind of going to work etc. melts away with a little light and fresh air at the end of the day. I am so thankful to live in such a beautiful world. My heart pangs on a daily basis from magical little moments like this.
Lighthearted Lily
I sat once in a garden swing enjoying a sunshiny day, When on the breeze I heard the talk of flower sprites underway. “Come and sing a song with me,” said the Lily to the Rose with sport. “I’m much too dignified for all of that,” was the red flower’s stuffy retort. So to the Daisy the Lily asked, “Won’t you join in my fun?” But the Little Bud was busy, soaking up the sun. She continued with effort to find a friend, but with no luck it came That the Lighthearted Lily decided on her own to play a game. She sang a song pure, simple, and sweet with a voice born in the dew; It made me forget the troubles of life bringing joy and spirit renewed. I too began to sing with the lily on the wind The song that all the lilies sing of how to be a friend. And one by one the song was joined by other garden dwellers; Such a chorus I’ve never heard like that of all the flowers.
Rain
In the earliest moments of morning, Long before day decides to dawn. I lie awake in my bed. Drinking in the drizzle as it Tap dances across my open window Inhaling the wet mist drifting into my room. Cold air hangs above my warm blanket. Dark. Shadows creep across the walls. In this moment Entranced by the Simple Existence of Rain.
Halloween 2013 – Channeling Charlie
For Halloween this year I decided to be Charlie Chaplin, a true American hero. He dedicated his life to making the rest of the world laugh. There aren’t many causes better than that. How do you think I did?
Rain Dances
A million tiny blue droplets water the morning. A woman with brown hair and kind eyes looks up from the Times crossword puzzle she has finished. She gazes out beyond the glow of her kitchen window. She has experienced a multitude of wet days just like today. Watching the water trickle down the window pane takes her mind back to a simpler time, and a younger version of herself. . . She is sixteen years old. Frank Sinatra sings on Dad’s worn out record player. The rain keeps time with the music. They are in his bookstore. He peruses the rare books section while she does inventory. This is their Friday night ritual. Suddenly, a hand is on her shoulder. She looks into her Father’s smiling eyes. He takes her out to the middle of the store’s faded wood floor. They dance. He croons, “Don’t know why there’s no sun up in the sky…Stormy Weather. Since my gal and I ain’t together…” She laughs softly. Everything is just as it should be; just the two of them suspended in that moment in time. No one can dance like Dad; not even Fred Astaire. Thunder takes the woman back further. The…
Seasons
To everything there is a season, Someone wiser than I has said. Spring when you wake in the morning, Winter when you go to bed. I’ve seen babies with December eyes, When surroundings frost too soon, Yet others though their hair is gray, Have stopped the clock at noon. The changing times are constant, The paradox alludes, Whether inward soul knows Spring or Fall, Is really up to you. Still after Spring has sprung, And Autumn falls away, There’s a longing to go back again, To relive long lost days. While looking back is very fine, It simply shows where we’ve been. There is joy in the here and now, New memories about to begin. The trick is to live in the moment, Drink in the present scene. Don’t worry about what’s ahead or behind, But enjoy what this season brings.
When I Opened My Mouth to Sing
The light was bright and the room was quiet. Hundreds of faces, some familiar and some not, were turned towards a small girl who stood on a stage. She wore a blue dress, simple and elegant, and her caramel hair was smooth and straight down to her shoulders. She was not beautiful, but her face was kind and laughter was in her eyes. In the back of the stage someone started to play the piano. The melody was simple, but it became sweeter at the sound of the girl’s voice as she suddenly started to sing. She sang a high note here and a low note there. She sang of Winter turned into Spring, and of the love a child can bring. She sang a song of hope and a song of sadness. She sang about courage and showing gladness. And as she sang suddenly I stood. I felt her song was my own. When I opened my mouth to sing I found my voice, though not as accomplished, could accompany hers without shame. She smiled at me and we sang together in harmony. Then others were standing around me and joining the chorus. Not a voice was unworthy to…