Since I know I won’t write a long one today I decided to limit myself to 100 words for the first one. It will probably end up being lousy poetry. But I need to see what I do wrong before I can fix it.
Asking For Directions
I was lost in the center of busy streets. In some city unfamiliar to me.
I checked my maps and checked my phone. I couldn’t find my way back home.
I checked the signs, searched for a landmark. Nothing showed itself to me.
I had to ask for directions but what to say, how to ask.
Not wanting to be a bother. To ask the strangers who were here.
Still not knowing quite the reason but feeling a little fear.
I took a breath I took a moment.
I asked for directions. “To get to main-street take the second right”.
I should probably put more time writing these well. But I tend to lose track of projects I can’t measure, so this is more of a story a day thing.
The Perfect Place Setting
As young children, we used to spend part of the winter in Stamford, Connecticut, with my grandparents. Not that me telling you where they live is in any way relevant to the story at hand, but I felt it would be rude not to.
My grandparents, my grandmother, in particular, preferred that we eat our meals together, particularly dinner. Me being very close to my grandmother. Often helped her by setting the table.
So there I was the first day there. 9 months of not really seeing each other, and I was just in time to help set the table. I got the forks, the knives, the plates all out and ready all in time for dinner. The family gathered everyone we sat down to eat. I was beaming. This was all because of me. Then my grandfather asked, “why aren’t there any cups on the table?” I quickly deflated rushed to get cups to the table, and we ate our meal. After dinner, I played a few games of cards with my family and got myself to bed.
The very next morning, I woke up, and my father had gotten bagels and fish for breakfast. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake as last night. I got the cups, set the table, and we sat down to eat. Yes! I had done it and was per… Before I even finished the thought, my grandfather asked, “where is the cream cheese? and what about the serving utensils?” Again I deflated rushed to get it fixed, and we sat down to eat. Lunch came, and I put too many plates on the table. Dinner I used the wrong chairs, and for the rest of the week, I continued doing it wrong. And sometimes the mistakes were hardly anything at all, but still, it wasn’t good enough it wasn’t perfect.
Finally, a week after, It came time for dinner. I got the plates, the cups, the knives, the forks, the correct plates, the chairs in the right places, the serving utensils, the salads, everything was in the right place. It was perfect. I had done it. And as we sat down to eat, I was beaming. Little me was so excited. And we sat down to eat talk. And when I asked my grandfather if he noticed something special today. “No, what of it?” He replied, “Nothing.” I replied as I deflated, and we finished our meal.
I cut the next one a little short as once I finally got over getting it perfect long enough to write the darn thing, I didn’t have enough time to get it as long as I had originally wanted. Still it was a great exercise fr dialog. And when I see it again tomorrow It will give me a good ground on what I have to improve.
How The Kids Play…
It was the quintessential beautiful day, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, there was a gentle breeze, and the park was immaculate. A family, well minus the middle generation, walked onto the scene.
“Isn’t it perfect,” Gladys said, “we have the whole of the park to ourselves.”
“Go play kids,” Melvin said, “your grandmother, and I will watch from here.”
“It’s a tragedy, Glidy. It’s such a beautiful day out. And yet the park is nearly empty.”
“Today’s a workday, honey.” she replied, “Not everyone can leave their children with their parents.”
“A tragedy, nonetheless, people leaving their parents in prison. And their kids in the hands of a stranger.” Martin ranted, “It’s just not right!”
“Now honey, people’s nanny’s aren’t strangers…” Gladys began
“Professional kid watcher,” he interrupted “An hour-long interview and a good reputation. Now here take some money and watch my kids.”
“Martin! What did I say about interrupting me.”
“Besides, I’ve heard some good things about sunny fields.”
“Pah, don’t believe it for a second.”
They sat peaceful, enjoying the birdsong. And watching the kids race each other rolling down an incline (I may just have been a weird child, but my brothers and I did do this). They heard a car drive into the parking lot.
“Must be Victor,” Melvin said, “knew he’d be late.”
A woman strolls past with a stroller.
“There’s Victor,” Gladys began, “and he brought little Emma.”
“Sorry, I’m late. “Little Emma didn’t want to get off of her device.”
“Kids these days,” Melvin declared, “On their bloody devices all the goddam time.”
“Language!” Gladys exclaimed,
“Pah, You should see what’s on television nowadays. Nobody’s been offended something like that in Years.”
“The grass was greener back in the day too.” Victor adds in.
“You didn’t have cataracts back in the day too.” Melvin replies,
Emma, after running to join the other kids in their games. Picks up a stick and yells, “Bow before me, I have the staff of Amun-Ra.
Gladys asks, “what does she mean by that?”
“Oh, it’s from something she saw on her device,” Victor replies, “A game they play or something.”
“We used to have better games too.” Melvin adds,
“No, we didn’t,” Gladys sighs, “there is something that can be said for this new children’s entertainment.”
“Maybe,” he responds, “But the park’s still mostly empty.”
They sit and watch, letting both the peace and the quiet sink in.
After a while, Gladys and Melvin get up “It was nice seeing you, Victor. But the kids will be wondering where the little ones are if we stay any longer.”
“See you for card night,” Victor said, “Goodbye.”
Altani’s screams echoed through the desert, but Batbayar knew his place. You must get the waters to the baby, I must provide the child’s soul. The world seemed to shake as she screamed again, he wanted nothing more than to go and comfort her, his Altani, his bond. Still, he knew, and as he chanted to himself, he knew, I must provide the child’s soul, I must bring the waters of life. Yet, he hated himself for waiting; he was in the fields of his ancestors. Their lives contained in desert plants. I must provide the child’s soul, I must bring the waters of life, the waters of my ancestors. A scream cut short, a babies cry, a boy’s cry; Batbayar deftly took his fathers plant and split it open to reveal its waters; the plant pricked him and as his blood mixed into the waters of his father’s soul, his son’s soul, he knew he made the right choice…