Journal/Blog

Silly Spontaneous Story

Mr. Martin March was melancholy. He meant to be married to Molly Masters. Most days he couldn't manage to make small talk, let alone muster up a marriage proposal.

Molly made magnificent marmalade.

On Monday, his mother met with Molly's mom to mourn over the migrating Mallards. The majestic birds would be missed until their migration ended.

Martin mingled with the mature men, mainly memorizing their manners of speech. Mapping out a mindful maneuver to mimic their memorable moves, he made sure to mull over metaphors and meaningful messages that might measure up to Molly's expectations.

Moseying over to the mansion where Molly lived, Martin moved his microphone into place. Not mundane, but merry was the music he chose. The myriad mellow tones he mused were meant to move mountains and melt her heart, not make mess out of things.

Molly meticulously marked time while Martin made music and a mythical mist mounted around the mansion. She couldn't mistake the moisture on her cheeks as she saw this modest, meek man of medium build transform into a masterful musician.

Mopping his brow, Martin manifested enough mettle to make his mitten-covered hand move to where Molly could not mistake the metallic glint in his palm.

Molly knew this was no mere marriage proposal, it was meant to be. She was not a madwoman. Gathering her maidenly manners, Molly patted her mastiff on the head and called down to Martin.... "MAYBE!"