Alisha's Tree

            I woke up in a strange bed and really had to pee.  I made my bladder wait a minute while I figured out where I was.  The pale moonlight coming through the window was much weaker than the streetlight back home, but it was bright enough to show me the quilt crumpled at the foot of the bed.  Delicate hand stitched purple flowers twined through frail green vines.  Grandma’s house.

            I exhaled a sigh, remembering this was where I’d been banished for the summer.  I would have preferred to go to Thailand with my dad, but he was on no-kids-allowed-business-trip.

            I kicked off the light-green sheet and promised myself again that I’d stop drinking root beer right before bed.  Maybe then I’d sleep through the night for once.

            My bare feet hit the nubby softness of the rag rug by the bed, then a few steps later, the cool wood of the floor.  I grabbed the door handle and turned it slowly, not sure if this door was a creaker.  Pleased with its silence, I padded out into the hall and down to the bathroom.

            Skipping the overhead light, I took care of business.  Headed out the door again, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  The strange angles from the night-light’s glow turned my face into a death mask.  Large hollows lurked beneath my cheekbones.  My eyes were burrowed dark sockets peering out from under moss-dark bangs.

            Startled, I reached out and flipped on the overhead lights.  The face I was used to seeing peered back at me.  My eyes were their normal green, with the usual hint of insomnia-induced shadow underneath.  Dark brown hair curled chaotically to my brows and shoulders.

            Satisfied that I had not turned into a ghoul, I turned the light back off and headed for bed.

            Just as I reached my door I heard a long, slow squeak behind me.  I paused.  Swallowing my pounding heart, I turned my head, expecting to see a sleepy Gran.  Instead, I watched the door the to the furnace closet swing slowly shut.

            I know it’s really childish to be afraid of strange noises in the dark, but I couldn’t help it.  I ran.  Three steps from my bed, I jumped, landing in the middle.  In one motion, my head hit the pillow, my hands grabbed sheet and quilt and jerked them over my head.  My cave of covers would protect me from the mass murderer slinking down the hall.

            I lay perfectly still, trying to bring my frantic breathing under control.  Like a possum pretending to be dead.

            A minute later when I was miraculously still alive, I started to feel really silly.  So glad that no one had witnessed my stunning display of immaturity, I lowered the covers from my head and peeked out into the room.

            I hadn’t closed the door behind me, so I could see out into the hallway.  No serial killer was waiting there to pounce on me.  Only the wedding picture of my mom and dad that hung on the wall across from the guest room looked back at me.  My heart started to settle back into my chest only to be launched back into my throat.  Someone had appeared in the doorway.

            Well, it was shaped like a person, anyway.  But it wasn’t solid.  Through its head I could still see the blurred picture of my mom and dad.  It was like looking through a thin layer of swirling milk.

            I froze.  My mouth went dry.  My heart stopped moving in my chest.  It felt like even my breath was locked, air hardly slipping in and out.

            The figure began to move toward me.  From the waist down, it looked like it was walking, but without any vertical bounce.  It crossed the few feet of open floor, reaching the side of my bed in a matter of moments.  The only movement I could manage was to tighten the grip of my fingers on the covers I clutched just under my chin.

            Suddenly I felt the edge of the bed sink a few inches.  The shape was sitting next to me.  Through its cloudy form, I could see the indent of its weight on the covers and mattress.  Then it touched me.

            One human-shaped hand reached out and came to rest on my knee.  Everything was okay.  I could breath again, my heart picked up a normal rhythm, and I felt at peace.  Love and comfort flowed through that hand in a touch I could never forget.  It was my mom.

            As peaceful as I felt in her presence, I couldn’t hold back the tears.  As my arms slowly relaxed down to rest on my stomach, the tears began to slip gently from the corners of my eyes and roll to the pillow.

            She sat with me for a few minutes, rising and silently drifting from the room long before I was ready for her to leave.  The moment she was out of sight, I rolled onto my side, hugging my pillow close against my chest.  Sobs began to tear loose, shredding up from my gut and out into the room.  I had held them down for so long that the air they contained tasted stale.

            I don’t know how long I cried.  It seemed like forever.  When the last sob finally trickled out of my mouth, I felt pure.  I sucked down great big gulps of fresh, new air.

            And then I slept.  Deep, dreamless sleep that I hadn’t experienced for almost a year.

Must see TV

Most people probably think serial killers watch CSI, Bones, and Law and Order.  A few might even consider adding Dexter to the list.  In my experience, those shows are useless.  There isn't a lot of info there that's accurate.  What is accurate is horribly out of date.  When I watch those shows I laugh.  And imagine the poor beginners who think they're learning something.

I prefer the Discovery channel.  And its offspring.  I Almost Got Away With It is invaluable.  There's nothing like learning from the mistakes of others.  Unless it's learning from personal experience.  I think it's time to get to work.

Better set the DVR.

Set something on fire

Janessa's movements were slow and sure. 

First the newspaper she had stolen from the neighbor's drive.  Next the pizza box from last night's dinner.  The phone book.  Her notes from psychology class. 

Janessa popped open the flip top on the can of lighter fluid.  Dousing the pile on her living room floor, she took a deep breath to steady herself.  Instead, the fumes made her dizzy.  She deliberately traced a line from the pyre across the carpet, up the wall and onto the blue flowered drapes.

The book of matches was waiting.  Red.  Gold lettering advertised Two Brews, the bar where she had met Devin the night before.  Janessa opened the book and removed a single match.  Another deep breath and her hand struck the match head against the striker strip.  She tossed the match. 

Janessa backed up until she hit the wall.  She watched the flames grab each item she had so carefully placed.  Then the fire found the trail.  Low blue topped with bright white, it wormed across the floor.  The drapes caught.

The fire alarm began to shrill.  Janessa plugged her ears.  Then pulled her fingers quickly away.  She needed to hear the sirens.  She hoped to hear them soon.  She needed Devin to save her.  He was a firefighter, after all.

Make a case for your favorite fruit

I have to make a case for this fruit.  (And yes, it is a fruit!)

I have to build a case, lock it inside, and never eat it again.  This fruit tried to kill me!

Did you know that if you are allergic to latex, you may also have reactions to avocados, bananas, kiwi fruit, and chestnuts?  I had heard the rumor, but eaten avocado in the past with no issues.  Surprise!

One bite of guacamole was enough to make my tongue and throat start to swell.  I was lucky, in that I realized what was happening and didn't eat anymore. 

The problem is that I love avocado.  It is creamy.  It is rich.  It loves to hang out with tomatoes, onion and jalapeno (some of my other favorite plants) in delightful guacamole.  It is hard for me to be in the room with that kind of deliciousness and not scarf it down.

So maybe I shouldn't make a case for avocado.  Maybe instead I should make a casket.  So that I can bury it and mourn its passing from my life. 

Farewell fond friend. 

What you would shoplift

"What do you want?" Bob asked as we walked into Walgreen's.

"Just a Dr. Pepper.  Hey, I need to go to the bathroom.  I'll meet you up front." I kissed him on the cheek and moved off toward the back of the store before he could protest.

Down one aisle, a left hand turn, and a peek back over my shoulder to let me know he wasn't watching.  This was way too embarrassing to let him know about. 

I made my way to the back corner of the store.  There it was, next to the small freezer case.  My favorite aisle.  Full of things that I couldn't bring myself to buy, but couldn't live without. 

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, I pulled my black drawstring bag off of my shoulder.  Quickly opening it, I grabbed what I had been dreaming about.  I pulled a Snuggie down from the shelf above and ripped it out of its package.  Wrapping it quickly around my Perfect Tortilla pan, I hoped that Bob wouldn't notice that my bag was larger than when we entered.

I tucked my treasure into my sack and rushed up front to find Bob.  As I walked, I tried to imagine what new delights I would see on TV tonight.  They were always better in person than they were as seen on TV.

Desert ride

Hot.  Bright.  Grit.

The sun was on my skin and in my eyes.  So was the gravel.  Blinking my eyes open felt like shredding their surface with the tines of a fork. 

The first thing I saw past the white wall of light was the slowly turning wheel of my bicycle.  A Bicycle playing card stuck in the spokes tinked out the passage of time.  I wondered how long the wheel had been turning.  I wondered a lot of things.

Where were my shoes?  Judging by the bright yellow sundress I had on, I guessed that sandals had covered my feet at some point.  I picked up my bike and checked the wicker basket strapped to the front.  Empty.  No shoes.  No water. 

Looking around, I tried to decide which would be the bigger problem.  I was on a road twining through a sea of sand.  Other than myself, the only living things I saw were a few brave cacti.  Even they looked hot and tired.

Which way to head?  Both directions looked equally uninviting. 

Then I realized I had to have come from somewhere.  So I turned my bike around.  If I made it here, I can make it back.  Right?

I wish I would stop sleep walking.

Super Chocolate Bacon Bombs

"Everybody loves bacon and chocolate!  These two amazing flavors have finally been brought together in your breakfast cereal.  With the addition of whole grain oats, it's also high in fiber!  Eat it straight out of the box, or drenched in maple syrup!"

I just disgusted myself. 

And I want bacon.

The prompt: Write the copy for a new breakfast cereal