Ani’s Advent 2019! Cats, Honey Bear and D. Wallace Peach

My dog, Honey Bear, wrote a poem for Ani’s Advent 2019. Ani is Sue Vincent’s adorable and talented pup. The spelling is atrocious, but there is a translation for those who don’t read “dog.” I hope you get a smile. Happy Holidays from Honey Bear.

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Dear Santa,

I’m having an interesting time with the resident cat here… I have to say, it isn’t as difficult to get on with as I thought it would be.

They are weird… but then, so are two-legses and I like them.

I mean, I’ve had a few problems with them before, invading my garden and such…

But maybe it is like she says about two-legses… you just have to get to know them, one at once, and then they seem different.

Mind you, Honey Bear seems to have got to know a bunch of them and the poem she sent me tells me that maybe I should still be a bit wary…

Much love,

Ani xxx


A translation by Diana Wallace peach of Honey Bear’s Poem:

Christmas with Cats

by Honey Bear

*

I don’t like cats

In the Christmas tree

They make a big mess

And blame it…

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Diana’s Nov. Writing Challenge: Dinner

pixabay image

I dragged the child through the forest by his grubby ankle. He howled and grasped at passing tree roots, but I gave him a sharp-hooved kick. I’d not tolerate his misbehaving ways. No, not I.

“Let me go,” he begged.

I flattened my ears and bared my teeth, newly sharpened for the occasion. I hung him upside down, my tail wrapped around one bare foot like a python. Quick as spit, I used my claws to peel off his clothes, and I tossed the rags into the fire. He wouldn’t be wearing those again. They were as grimy as he, so rank that a skunk would pinch its nose and flee.

Tired of his pleading and threats, I stuffed the flailing child into my pot and slammed down the lid. The worst of the ordeal was over but for the boulder to keep the youngster inside. That I’d planned in advance, and I used my knees when hefting it onto the lid. Earlier that afternoon, I’d prepared the kettle with an aromatic blend of woodland herbs mixed with salts and plenty of water for a long stew. Nothing less would do in this particular case. The parents insisted the lad was “tough.”

“Let me out, please,” the child cried and blubbered, but I didn’t care. His parents had given up and offered him to me, wanting no details regarding what I’d do to him. I sorted out the fire, pushing the embers closer to the pot. Not boiling, but hot enough to have him done by dinnertime. I placed a delectable casserole near the heat and satisfied, squatted on a rock. There was nothing left to do but wait.

“It’s dark in here,” the lad griped. “And it’s getting hot.”

I ignored the complaints until they fell silent, frittering my afternoon away with grooming while anticipating my supper. I combed my long beard and polished my horns, taking utmost pride in my appearance. Unlike one germ-ridden, flea-bitten child. Every now and then, I tossed a stick on the fire.

When the sun slid behind the autumn leaves, I knocked the boulder from the lid and peeked inside. The aroma was delicious, and the child perfectly done, his skin rosy and wrinkled. I wrapped my tail around his skinny body, lifted him from my pot, and set him on a level stone.

He glowered at me. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re clean.” I shooed his little naked self away. “Off with you. Scamper home to your parents. My casserole is done and so is your bath.”

***

I hope you enjoyed the story.

For those who celebrate the holiday, have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

See you in December!

Infinity

I’m so glad Len took up the November challenge. I hope you enjoy his story and the interesting slant he took with the point of view. 🙂 Happy Reading and good luck to all the NaNo participants out there.

Len's Diary

Responding to Diana’s prompt ‘ Write from the point of view of a creature that doesn’t exist in the “real” world. ‘
https://mythsofthemirror.com/2019/10/31/a-november-writing-challenge/
With a shout out to Dwight of Rothpoetry. I got hooked on his line “the intersection of infinity’
his poem on this can be seen here
https://rothpoetry.wordpress.com/2019/11/12/the-intersection-of-infinity/

Once upon a time, at the intersection of infinity, I chanced upon a tiny planet circling a tiny star. I was surprised to discover strange forms of elemental creatures had evolved on this planet. These elemental forms scrambled around the planet devouring each other in an effort to sustain its existence. I marveled at the myriad of design of the various forms and how they adapted to land, air and water. I had no idea that the creation of space, time and matter outside of the spiritual realm would produce such anomalies.

I observed these strange shapes for a time…

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The Triangulation Of Superheroes #novemberwritingchallenge

I’m always delighted when Geoff takes up a challenge and applies his unique humor. Have fun with his story. Happy Sunday.

TanGental

This is written for D Wallace Peach’s November Writing Challenge

‘Hi, Bat, you okay
to take a call?’

‘Who is it, Alfred?’

‘The Mayor of
Gotham. Sounds a bit angsty.’

‘He’s always
angsty. Put him on.’

The Bat smoothed his cape and noticed a tear with annoyance. You just couldn’t get a decent cape these days. A couple of conflagrations, maybe a small Armageddon and pfft! You’re off to Bat About Town again.

‘Hi,’ the Bat
recognised the nasal congestion that distinguished the mayor from the normally
aspirated. ‘That you, Batman?’

‘Mr Mayor? How’s
Gotham? My spies tell me it’s still predominantly crime free and peaceful.’

‘Indeed so.’

The Bat waited and
then said, ‘I sense a ‘but’ coming…’

‘Better than a
butt kicking.’ The speaker laughed then coughed and finally rather too obviously
spat.

It was a different
voice but another familiar one. ‘You on the line too, Chief…

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Water Striders

I’m so glad that HRR let me include this story as part of the November Challenge. It’s fabulous. Enjoy. 🙂

Let Me Tell You the Story of...

insect water strider

Skri water walks over to me. “Lookit – those things are on the island again.”

The short-limbed creatures watch me from the shores. I do not bounce as if to play, do not acknowledge them. Instead I reach below the surface to grab a chunk of algae. “I thought nothing lived on land.”

“You know what the elder says?” Skri leaned in close. “She thinks they’re monsters.”

The materially-rich monsters move as if to avoid scaring us. There’s something knowing about them, something intelligent, but they’re absent the holiness of water.

I shudder. Nothing with a soul walks on land.

Divider

This sci-fi flash was written for the November 7th Flash Fiction Challenge on the Carrot Ranch. Water Walkers was the theme this week, and that made me think of water strider bugs. I invented an alien that is bigger, intelligent, and walks on water. The land creatures are supposed to be…

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Shade in a mist

Lyrical writing and mystical imagery from Jane. A beautiful response to the challenge. I hope you enjoy.

Jane Dougherty Writes

Diana has a prompt for this novel-writing month, to write a short piece of prose or a poem from the POV of something from a different world. It so happens, I’m doing that more or less, and anything that helps the WIP along is welcome.

The image is one I found in my gallery. It’s from a reblog of one of Kerfe Roig’s posts.

owl close up 2

He sees through the mists now, the shade that was a child once before becoming a giant, a colossus, a warrior. He sees what the men don’t see, with their living eyes full of mist and their ears full of the fluttering of wings. Shades. Owls perhaps. They see in the dark, through what isn’t there. The shade thinks like the child he is, but he is wiser than the men because he has seen death.

The men look up, and the shade realises he…

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Go Away Now

A mystical response to the writing challenge from Kerfe. It might just give you uncontrollable shivers. Enjoy!

K.

go away now s

Complications sour the air. It sits heavy like a rock, immense and expanding.  I am pinned to the low and the unbending, hard consonants without vowels.

This place reeks of precarious edges and uncertain lines. I am starved for words.  The familiar has become unreadable, untold.  Noises have become forms that weave themselves into a motionless net around each ungathered piece of what might pass for sanity.  I grow continuously neither better nor worse.

I do not remember what I asked of the universe, the cosmic spirits that randomly move the pieces of my life, that giveth sometimes but often only taketh away.

O yes, their ways are mysterious. Blood and Violence merging into Just The Way Things Are.

If it’s darkness we’re having, let it be extravagant, deeper, emptier, more ravening than their insatiable hunger.

Let them dine alone—I will swallow myself

go away now close up s

Victoria at dVersehas given us words…

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