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 Brief prose and poetry lacking other categories... |
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Basically anything under 1500 words. Enjoy
 The poem which won 1st place at Rebel Poetry is "Stained Portrait"  . I don't usually write in such an overdramatic fashion  The poem which placed second at "Writing 4 Kids" is "Earth is Home" . That is more of my style  ![Merit Badge in Fantastical RA
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| Six-year-old Annie was terrified of bats. She cringed whenever she saw pictures of them. Halloween was a dreadful time for her, because everywhere she looked, there were bats: plastic bats, stuffed bats, furry bats; giant bats hanging from the ceiling, tiny bats on rings as party favors, even skeleton bats! “Why are you so petrified of bats?” Her big brother Andy asked one afternoon in October. “My English teacher assigned me this big book to read, all about bats! Want me to read you some fun facts?” “Ack! No, never, please!” Annie turned a shade paler, shrinking back as Andy held out the book. “I'll have nightmares.” “But why?” “I saw a movie with monster bats that chase people and drain their blood. And Uncle Joe said they'll get caught in my hair!” “Aw, that's silly,” Andy scoffed. “They're harmless. Have you ever even met a real live bat?” “No, and I hope I never do!” Annie scooted away to seal herself in her room. Annie's birthday came along a couple days later. It was a lovely celebration, with cake and friends and gifts… Until she unwrapped a squishy package from Andy. Tears spilled down her face as she stared in horror at the soft black toy in the wrappings. “A stuffed bat?! Andy, you know I hate bats! What an awful gift!” “Aw, shucks, Sis, I thought it was cute…” She ran into her bedroom, threw it into a corner and cried herself to sleep. When she woke up, it was dark. She'd forgotten to turn on her nightlight. Shadows crept up the walls like eerie winged creatures. Annie wrapped the blankets tighter and tried to fall asleep again. A tiny squeak at her bedside table made her jump. Andy's little stuffed bat was sitting on the table, big eyes glowing a soft green, watching her. “Eek! How'd you get here?” “Greetings,” the toy squeaked. “I'm Belfry. Are you Annie?” “Yes,” she quavered. “Andy brought me home to teach you all about how nice and helpful real live bats are,” Belfry said, flapping his undersized wings. “Did you know we have a marvelous echolocation navigation system?” “What's that mean?” “It means we fly at night, emitting sound waves that bounce off of objects. Our precisely tuned ears pick up these reflected sounds and use them to find our way around and catch bugs to eat.” “Wow, really?” Annie sat up a little straighter. “Why can't we hear all that noise?” “The noises we make are higher pitched than what human ears are tuned to hear. We can also fly really fast – in fact, the Mexican Free-tailed Bat has been clocked at nearly a hundred miles an hour – faster than those cheetahs you always thought were the fastest mammals!” “Goodness, that's fast. Did you say you eat bugs?” “Yep. Bats eat up to twelve hundred mosquitoes an hour. We can eat our body weight in nasty bugs every night. Imagine how beneficial that is!” “Yeah, I hate mosquitoes. Mom says they spread disease. You guys don't do that, do you?” “No, not under most circumstances, but that doesn't mean you can touch or play with us.” “Ugh, I wouldn't dream of it. If you eat bugs, does that mean you don't drink blood?” “No, bats don't do that, that's a myth. In fact, the giant Flying Fox bat is a vegetarian. It eats fruit in the South Pacific islands.” “And if you have such great navigating skills, I bet you don't really get caught in people's hair, either,” Annie mused. “Of course not. That's another silly myth. We're harmless, friendly creatures. My mom could recognize my voice among thousands of other bat pups in the cave I grew up in.” “Aww,” Annie smiled. She reached out and smoothed down Belfry’s shiny black fur. “How many bats are there?” “There can be millions of us roosting in a single cavern. You should see us when we all come pouring out of the entrance at dusk!” “Eek! I don't think I'm ready for that yet.” She leaned back against her pillow with a yawn. Belfry hopped from the table up onto her bed. She giggled and pulled him close, feeling the weight of his squishy beanbag body in her hands. “You're awfully cute, you know? What a nice birthday gift.” When Annie awakened in the morning, Belfry was a silent, ordinary, palm-sized stuffed bat. His big green eyes twinkled in the sunlight. She brought him downstairs with her. “Hey Andy, can we read your bats book together? I wanna learn all about them.” “I knew you would,” he smiled. Annie didn't have any reason to be afraid of bats anymore. She slept with Belfry guarding her pillow every night, keeping the spooky shadows at bay. Words: 793. Written for "Merit Badge Magic" For a selection of fun facts about bats from The Nature Conservancy, click https://www.nature.org/en-us/about-us/where-we-work/united-states/arizona/storie...  |
| I'm a mean dog, a keen dog, a wild dog and lone, I'm a rough dog, a tough dog, hunting on my own I'm a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep I love to sit and bay the moon, to keep fat souls from sleep… From “Lone Dog,” by Irene Rutherford McLeod Fearsome and tough, I show off my suit Growling and scowling and searching for loot. My hook keeps sworn enemies at bay While I guard the treasures I've dug up today. They say it's survival of those most fit: Well, I've got the will, the strength and the grit. With wisdom and skill, I sail stormy seas And clamber to tops of swaying palm trees. A loner forever, I pay no mind to hate Assigning those who despise me to their own fate. Life's taught me none can be trusted for sure If I give them an inch, they'll only snatch more. I look out for myself – that's all I can do – Shipmates are trouble, I tell you it's true. Mutiny’s impossible when one runs the ship With nobody disturbing, it's a smooth easy trip. At day's end I settle in my bunk for a sleep I'm the only one my soul to keep. No prayers for others, least of all me, I'm captain of my bark on life's forsaken sea. Words: 171. Lines: 20. AABB rhyme. Written for "Writing 4 Kids" Prompt: photo of a bulldog wearing a pirate costume. Consider it a mashup of the above quoted poem, William Ernest Henley's Invictus, and the Imagine Dragons song Take Me to the Beach. |
| Blight lies heavy on parched land choked with weeds When did everlasting streams of justice run dry? Replaced by disintegrating systems, overburdened by traitors Dragging innocent workers off public streets, Exiled to countries crooked or desperate enough to accept them. Holidays drained, harvests mangled by tariffs. Shutdown! Describes minds, hearts, and government. I'm angry at everything – everyone's being played for a fool. Reasoning – trying to give sight to the blind. Plot twist – they'd rather not see! Billionaires laugh behind walls of hate and fear Inflating prices, rents, rates – chopping benefits – slathering white-out over history, While we the people call each other bigots Squabbling over labels like starving dogs in garbage. What kind of harvest season is this? Do we have anything to be thankful for? I can offer no glue to mend a fractured mess. Empty purses, failing infrastructure, despair exploding in chaos. Yet… a microscopic germ of faith remains undeterred. Though buildings languish unfinished, crops rot in their fields, I give exhausted praise to the One Who created me. What else can I do? 23 lines, 175 words. Free verse. Inspired by Amos 5:24, Psalms 10 & 73, and Habakkuk 3:17-19. Written for "Rebel Poetry Contest" and "Golden Apples Writing Contest Forum" Rebel Poetry prompt 2: Make us understand this poem contains the words behind your scream. Golden Apples prompt: harvest (moon) |
| She stumbled through alleys slimy with rotted litter, always merely a few strides ahead of him, avoiding betraying puddles of sickly moonlight. Darting short off into a side street, she pressed herself against the damp, crumbling wall, breath hitching in her side. He passed her hiding place unawares. As his footfalls distanced, she once again took flight, leaping across jagged heaps of rubble, crawling under tangled barbed wire, and scrambling up the pock-marked side of a demolished building on the outskirts of town. At what would have been a rooftop overlook, an enemy guard nodded off, oblivious. One shove sent him rolling over the side, armor rattling, crashing with an echo that bounced between walls. She didn't stop to see the result of her ruthlessness, only kept moving. A rusty fire escape beckoned to the next level. Skittering down, she hit the rough pavement running. Muddy orange lights flickered ahead. She swung to another alley to avoid them. Fog lay dense, low to the ground, suffocating. A wrong turn brought her to a dead end scarcely wide enough to slip through. Spinning on her heel, she pulled up short as a figure slipped into the alley, blocking her way out. It was her pursuer. He approached slowly, weapons undisclosed, banking on sheer size difference to press in on her. “You thought I couldn't detect your destination and cut you off?” She said nothing, only watched with narrowed, steely eyes. “You have terrorized these barren streets long enough,” he continued, meeting her gaze with grim relish. “I tolerated your struggle for survival alongside us – until you stole my brother's last water as he lay bleeding. You forfeited your life the night you left him to die unaided.” “You liar. You know I told you where he was. You left him there, not I.” “Argument is futile,” he growled. “You will not drain our resources any further.” He lunged forward. She slithered under, attempting escape. He grabbed her arm from behind and swung her around, flinging her to the ground and coming down hard with a knee in her chest. Breath knocked out, sharp edges of broken asphalt digging into her back, she glared at cold eyes inches from hers. “How dare you,” she hissed. “You are no better than I.” He laughed then, a sharp sneer. The dagger he had not needed until now glinted with its own reddened glow. With one sweep across her throat, it was over. A flash of lightning filled the alley. Death's silent scream rang in his ears like thunder. He stood up, wiping off the dagger and sheathing it. Icy wind howled through the alley. An uneasy chill settled in his stomach. He turned to leave. She stood in front of him, blocking the exit, glowing red like the dagger, a slash across her neck. “You thought that was the last you'd see of me?” He charged through her ghost, coming out the other side choking and gasping as if he'd plunged into ice water. She followed him into the twitching shadows of the midnight streets. Thus began the dance: a pursuer now pursued. He could not run fast enough to escape her. Across splintered rooftops, through underground tunnels, to the edge of the bubbling, tainted river, he ran until he slipped in the mud and stumbled to his knees on the melting riverbank. She engulfed him, her chill piercing his marrow, yanking at his soul to tear it loose from his body. He rolled off the bank into the river, sinking beneath the boiling surface, thinking to lose her. Acidic contaminants made short work of him. Within minutes, he floated up over the river, glowing dull red, ragged holes in skin which no longer existed. The two ghosts wove an eternally silent choreography through the ruined city, always chasing each other, never catching up. Whispers of unholy wind trailed in their wake, causing any who still eked out survival on the shattered streets to shiver and clutch their weapons tighter. Words: 666. Written for "Note: 48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt Deadl..." |
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