Are You Lonesome Tonight? (Prose/Fiction)

(Late this afternoon we went walking.  As we walked past one of the homes, I could hear a recording of Elvis singing Are You Lonesome Tonight coming from an open window…so I wrote this in my head and hurried home with it…)

It was a regular early evening walk when suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of Elvis singing.   Are You Lonesome Tonight drifted from an open window and across the lawn and onto the sidewalk where I was walking.

It was an Autumn evening just after sundown. I was finishing up my walk and passing by the old Thornton house. The sound of Elvis singing Are You Lonesome Tonight was still drifting from an open window. Then the sound of a single gun shot floated across the lawn and onto the sidewalk where I was walking.

Later there were emergency vehicles and yellow crime tape circled round the old Thornton house. Are You Lonesome Tonight was still breaking the evening’s silence. As nights go, it was a long night.


It Feels So Good To Be Home

So we’re going to take off, in a couple of weeks, to that little cabin we love so much.  Just at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada.  If my life were different and I actually could control my own destiny without taking others into consideration…well…I’d be living in that old gold mining town today.  Right now, that’s not possible.  So we visit there as often as possible and stay in this old miner’s cabin in a little cabin/motel-ish setting.  I’d like to spend a month there – once. Maybe get it out of my system.  It’s a very small town and it snows there.  I can’t imagine liking either one but I can imagine living there.

I’d like to get New Orleans out of my system, too.  I’d like to spend the entire month of August back in New Orleans with the bugs and the mosquitoes and rain and humidity and stiffing heat.  Hahaha!  How quickly one forgets those minor details 😛

Cuz then, ya know, it’s always so damned nice to get home again.  Home with our birds and our eclectic (aka Goodwill/Salvation Army) decor.  Two large matching knotty pine book shelves and 5 mismatched ones.  Sometimes, on a damp winter’s day, one catches a whiff of old books.

So we’re going to take off, in a couple of weeks, to that little cabin we love so much.  Just at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada.  I’ll put all of my poetry on a memory key and pack our tiny laptop.  While you drive us to hiking destinations, I’ll read aloud my poetry.  The way we do it is this way:  I read a poem.  When I’ve finished, I ask you what you think of the title.  Most of the time, your answer to that question gives me some indication that you did or did not get my point.  I keep a list.  I bold the ones you didn’t get.  Sometimes I change some.

So we’re going to take off, in a couple of weeks, to that little cabin we love so much.  Just at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada.  It already feel so good to be home again.

I’ll go ahead and post this under random thoughts.  It’s not random, though.  It just seems random… to some parts of me


I Think I Could Handle This

I think I could handle this cottage.  I imagine it has a cozy living room with a small kitchenette/dinette and a loft up there on the second floor with a bath area and built-in bed.  I can imagine evening windows golden glowing, fire flies, and the song of chirping crickets mixing with the sound of lake water lapping on the shore. Crackling logs in the fireplace.  We’d cook our famous ‘All Grown Up Girl Scout Stew au Vin’.  Maybe a walk near the lake after supper under a canopy of sweet gum trees and star lit skies.  We could hang some fairy lanterns along the eaves and some soft sounding wind chimes and sit on the porch till the moon had risen far and away. Then we’d climb up to the loft and into bed where we’d sleep and dream under soft quilts.   Maybe one day…


Once Upon A Bed Again V (Fairy Prose)

(This is a continuing something or other.  I hope it will be a fairytale one day.  Previous to this can be found and from there you can link to the others.  I hope to have this in  my top  menu in time.  Thank you for following this tale.  Any comments or suggetions are appreciated)

The Barely Loose Tooth

Before we begin our story this evening, I wanted to be certain to tell you that Bedroom Fairies and Tooth Fairies are not the same kind of fairy. For instance, Bedroom Fairies usually live most of their lives in beautiful fairy tree castles deep in the woods. This is a well-known fact. No one knows, or at least not many people know, where Tooth Fairies live, but most people know that Tooth Fairies are much tinier than Bedroom Fairies. Tooth Fairies must be tiny in order to reach under pillows to take a tooth and then reach back under the pillow to leave a present…all without waking up a sleeping child.

Now…I must bring you up to date about my daughter, Irene’s, most recent owie.  Perhaps you’d call it a boo boo.

Irene and Chloe were outside playing ‘chase the butterfly’. Irene had made Chloe a beautiful miniature butterfly net from a piece of an old nylon stocking glued to a bobby pin.

Suddenly, I heard quite a bit of commotion just outside my library window. The window was open and, just as I stood from my chair, Chloe came flying in. She dropped her butterfly net and hurried towards me. “Irene has fallen! She hit her mouth and her tooth is loose!” She flew beside me as I rushed outside.

“My tooth is loose!” Irene smiled. She was sitting under an old oak tree and I sat down beside her.

Chloe hovered about somewhat flustered and finally whispered in my ear, “She isn’t 5 yet so I haven’t had a chance to find a tooth fairy! This will never do!”

“Let’s see just how loose that tooth is,” I said. “Open wide and show me which tooth.” Irene very proudly opened her mouth and pointed to an upper front tooth. It was obvious she had been wiggling it because there were specks of dirt on the tooth. She tried to wiggle it again. “Let’s go inside so you can wash your hands,” I suggested.

Irene reached up for my hand and stood up. “Will the tooth fairy come tonight?” she asked. She skipped ahead of me and up the porch steps and into the hallway bathroom. Chloe looked back at me, flustered, and flew behind Irene into the house.

By the time Irene’s mother came home from work, it had been decided that Irene’s tooth was barely loose at all. Even so, my wife knelt in front of Irene to check for herself. “No pain?” she asked as she touched the tooth.

“Only a little,” Irene said. “Will the Tooth Fairy come tonight?”

“Not until your tooth falls out.” She kissed Irene’s cheek. “And it won’t fall out today.”

“Will it fall out by my birthday party?” In two days, on Saturday, Irene would be 5-years-old. “I hope it falls out by then so I can show Anne.” Anne was Irene’s best friend. She was almost 6 and had already lost two baby teeth.

After supper, while my wife was helping Irene with her bath, I tried to calm Chloe. “There’s plenty of time to find a Tooth Fairy,” I assured her. Not only are fairies difficult and sensitive, but they also require quite a bit of comforting.

“I’m not sure,” Chloe said. She had already stepped into her dewdrop and put on her soft pink nightgown that had sparkly parts on the bottom.

“Not sure?” I asked.

Chloe pouted. “Yes. I’m not sure where I will ever find the Tooth Fairy, for Irene, so quickly! I will be quite busy tomorrow.” Then she laid down, on a small leaf inside her dewdrop, and slept fitfully.


Once Upon A Bed Again IV (Fairy Prose)

(This is a continuing something or other.  I hope it will be a fairytale one day.  Previous to this can be found here:…and from there are links to two other installments.  I hope – over the weekend-  to have them in a page on my top  menu.  Thank you for following my tale.  If you have comments or suggestions, please feel free to leave them.  I think I am developing a plot.  I just don’t see it yet :P)

Dressing for Breakfast

My goodness!  I certainly hope your day has gone better than mine. It’s unfortunate that I must waste our storytime but, obviously, I have some explaining to do about exactly why this story is in an envelope filled with loose pages and all of the pictures are in the front and the story, itself, in the back. Well… not only do I believe in fairies but, as anyone with even the least amount of sense knows.  it isn’t any fun to get everything all at one time – especially fairy magic. Now, you could probably read this story in any order and still make sense of it. However, I have asked your parents, and babysitters, and older brothers and sisters, to make an honest attempt to read the story in order – one part an evening. At least the first time. They have also been instructed that young children are to be given all of the pictures at the start of each reading. I happen to know, for a fact, that children prefer the pictures anyway. If you are not given the pictures, you are to let me know right away.

Let me begin, where we left off last evening:

Not only are fairies difficult, but they are also very sensitive creatures. Although my own Bedroom Fairy, Brightly, was the most perfect fairy, there is Chloe to consider. She is not above or below perfection. Chloe is simply difficult and sensitive. For instance, she expects her magical maneuvers to be observed and acknowledged.

“You do not even notice where I am,” she said. I had come to get my daughter, Irene,  up for breakfast and ready for school. Admittedly, fairies were the last thing on my mind first thing in the morning, and I had failed to take proper notice of the fact that Chloe had so perfectly guided her dewdrop onto the night stand next to Irene’s bed.

Irene did notice. “Oh! Good morning, Chloe!” There were smiles and greetings into which I was not invited. Nor was I acknowledged. “Did you sleep well your first night guarding my bedroom?”

“Quite well, thank you.” Chloe stepped out of her private dewdrop and into her daily attire. It was Tuesday. Fairies wear certain clothing on certain days of the week. On Tuesdays, fairies wear pink.

“What color are you wearing today?” Chloe called out from the bottom drawer of the night stand into which she had neatly unpacked her clothes.

“I haven’t decided.” Irene was standing in front of her closet. She was almost 5-years-old and insisted on dressing herself and choosing what she would wear. Her mother and I had long ago given up on trying to explain, to Irene, that certain colors went together and certain colors…well… did not. We had given up so long ago that we actually liked color combinations such as yellow and purple, and we were beginning to believe that polka dots and stripes matched.

There were a few minutes of searching and finding and deciding against certain items. Eventually, Irene stood in front of Chloe. She was wearing a beautiful frilly green dress that had a lovely full bow in the back. Underneath that, she wore a pair of blue jeans. Her tennis shoes were barely tied and her socks were topped with lace.

Chloe was wearing the most lovely pink fairy gown. It hung just to her ankles and, when she moved, its skirt swirled all about her. She put on a pair of ballet slippers and sprinkled a rainbow of glitter in her hair.

They observed each other for a moment. Then, Chloe – who was tiny enough, after all, to sleep in a dewdrop – sat upon Irene’s shoulder. And that is how they arrived for breakfast.