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#TBT: Cast the Ballot (circa 1994)

June 12th, 2014 No comments
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Since it’s Throwback Thursday (#TBT), AND election day here, I thought this was the perfect poem from my teen angst years to share.  The year was 1994 and I was officially an adult. I could finally vote.  It seems I may have had some reservations…

Cast the Ballot

Beneath my hollow footsteps
The fallen leaves of Autumn’s decay —
Crush.
A chill has set into the air,
Creeping into the bones of the young and the old.

My path treads over a damp, withered sign.
Its bold letters scream of an election.
Soon I will be in the assembly line
To cast my ballot and play the game of
The Politician.

Behind me the laughter of children echoes through the evening.
They too pass over the sign,
But are safe from its beckoning calls.
Their innocence shelters them.
Soon they will follow the same path I tread.

Now their footsteps and strides
Do not match mine.
As they travel down the roads I have,
They too will discover…
The Politician following in their shadow.

M. xo

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#TBT: The Great Surprise! (1987)

May 29th, 2014 No comments
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I’m finally getting around to posting the second chapter to a story that I shared for a previous #TBT. The Great Surprise! is my follow up to The Great Gooa short story I wrote when I was ten years old. Yet again, my art seems to reflect my life in this story. The exact date that I wrote this story was five days before my birthday. I was turning eleven years old. I’m guessing that I was really excited. Happy reading!

 

The Great Surprise!

 

It was Bright Eyes’ birthday. She was sixteen. When you are sixteen in the sea lion world you are considered an adult. Bright Eyes walked down the hall to her bear friend, Cuddles. Cuddles was reading a book.

“Hi Cuddles. What are you doing?”

“I’m reading a great book called Ghosts. It’s all about this bear who murders a human and then the human comes back and haunts the bear!”

“Sounds scary,” Bright Eyes said as a shiver ran down her spine.

Bright Eyes walked on down to her bedroom. She had decorated her room herself. The windows, mirror and bed were laced in silky white satin. She even had a door that led out onto the deck of the swimming pool.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Someone was at her door. Bright Eyes waddled over to the door. It was Wobbles. He was wobbling back and forth.  Bright Eyes had found Wobbles on her vacation in South Africa. She had to rebuild all the rooms because Wobbles couldn’t fit through the doors. After all, he was an elephant.

“Hi Bright Eyes,” Wobbles said glumly.

“What’s the matter, Wobbles?”

“Oh, I was just hoping I could go to the park today, but everyone is busy.”

“Well… uh… um… I’ll come with you,” Bright Eyes said.

“Ok! Let’s go, Bright Eyes.”

What had Bright Eyes gotten herself into now? Every time Wobbles went to the park he never came back for hours. Bright Eyes kept thinking about how no one remembered her birthday. Wobbles dragged Bright Eyes all the way to the park.

“Wobbles, I just wanted to tell you it’s my … um… it’s my birthday,” but Wobbles wasn’t listening. “How come everyone is acting weird?” Bright Eyes thought.

Six hours later, Wobbles decided to leave the park. When they arrived home all the lights were out. Bright Eyes walked in. The lights flicked on and tigers, bears and gibbons jumped out from all corners yelling, “Surprise!”

“Happy Birthday, Bright Eyes!” a fat tiger shouted from behind the couch. t was Tubby, the fattest tiger in all the land. The table that Bright Eyes stood before was stacked with presents galore. This was going to be a birthday Bright Eyes would never forget.

– THE END –

M. xo

Author’s comments: Interested in exploring other stories and poems I wrote in my youth? Here’s all my #TBT posts. Cheers!

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#TBT: Untitled #7 (1991)

May 8th, 2014 No comments
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For the past few weeks I’ve been sharing short stories I wrote in my youth for Throwback Thursday (#TBT). Crafting fictional tales was just one of many styles of writing I explored. Indeed, my teenage years were all about the poetry – and some of it was pretty terrible. You see, I didn’t write poems for the purpose of being a poet. No, I wrote poems to get the ‘ick’ out.

There was another purpose to my poetry – one much different than easing torrid teenage thoughts. I also wrote poetry to express my love and adoration to people I cared about. So, today I present the first love poem I ever wrote. Warning: the content you are about to read may be so sickly sweet that it could leave an ache in your heart.


Untitled #7

A kiss upon a rose petal
A whisper in the wind
The sound of the river flowing
The coming of day’s end

The warmth of your caress
The beauty of your soul
The gaze of your eyes
Never wanting to let go

A smile which has faded
A tear falling free
A thought of you today
Tomorrow and through eternity

M. xo

 

 

 

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#TBT: The Great Goo (1987)

May 1st, 2014 No comments
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I’m delighted to offer up another short story from my youth to mark this week’s Throwback Thursday (#TBT). I remember being particularly proud of this story because it was the first A+ I had ever received on a creative writing assignment. Yep, I was proud as a peacock – so much so that I even wrote a second story featuring the same characters in a new adventure.  I’ll save the second ‘chapter’ for next week’s #TBT. Happy reading!

 

The Great Goo

 

Bright Eyes was bathing in her pool.  Ever since she had been a young sea lion she had loved bathing in her pool. KLUNK! KLUNK! CRACK! Tubby had been walking on what used to be a diving board.  Tubby as the fattest tiger in all the land.  Wobbles came stomping out to see what was the matter.  Wobbles was a very sentimental elephant.

“Oh my poor Tubby!” said Wobbles.

“What do you mean, ‘my poor Tubby’? I’m the one he landed on,” complained Bright Eyes.

“Hmph! Bring the first aid kit, Cuddles,” Wobbles said in a panic.

Since Cuddles was a bear, she walked very slowly, but whenever Cuddles got mad she moved like an express train.

“Whoa!” Cuddles had slipped on some water.

Patches burst out onto the deck with the first aid kit.  Patches was the only gibbon who wanted to be a doctor.

“Make way!” yelled Patches.

As Patches was running he tripped over his tail. When Patches was a baby, he tripped, banged, and smashed into everything and everyone.  He always had to be bandaged up.  His parents thought that Bandages would be a more suitable nickname for a mummy, so they decided to call him Patches.  All his relatives and friends agreed.

As Cuddles lay in agony, Patches stood up and tied his tail to his ears. He walked cautiously towards Cuddles.  Patches collapsed beside Cuddles.  His tail was still tied to his ears.  Patches opened his kit.  He pulled out a pair of scissors. All Patches really wanted was a lock of Cuddles’ soft, cuddly fur.  Patches had always wanted a piece of her fur.  It was so soft and cuddly.  SNIP!  SNIP! He had it!

Patches stood up and observed the piece of fur.  The fur was pink and sticky.  Cuddles’ fur was gray, not pink.  Patches tried to throw away the pink goo.  He yanked and struggled.  Finally, he pulled it off, but just as Tubby was struggling out of the pool, the wad of goo stuck to the tip of Tubby’s tail.

Tubby ran around the deck chasing his plump tail.  Cuddles stood up, wobbling back and forth.  She noticed her fur was cut off. She started to get red, almost like a beet.

“Who did this!!!!” Cuddles yelled so hard she shook some of the apples off the trees in the orchard.  The commotion stopped.

Tubby stopped running around and instead he said calmly, “Will you take the piece of goo off me, Cuddles?”

Cuddles walked slowly over to Tubby.  She yanked off the goo and stuck it back on her fur.

“That was mine,” said Cuddles briefly.

“Well, what was it?” Bright Eyes asked curiously.

“Gum,” answered Cuddles.

“All that because of gum?! There’s a moral to this… but I’m not sure what it is?” said Patches.

“Don’t play with gum, Patches!” they all scolded.

To this day Patches has never touched gum in his life.

– THE END –

M. xo

Author’s note:  Once again, life seems to imitate art.  A few years before writing this story, one of my brothers and I decided it would be neat if we made headbands out of gum.  My Mom did not think it was so ‘neat’.  She did, however, learn the trick to removing gum from hair – peanut butter.  While she did manage to get most of the gum out of our hair without having to cut too much off, she did clip off some blond locks matted with pink goo to keep as a reminder.  Judging from the preceding story, I think the lesson ‘stuck’.

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#TBT: The Thing That Ate My Brothers (1988)

April 24th, 2014 No comments
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This installment of #TBT showcases two of my biggest inspirations for my childhood writings – my brothers.  Whether it was a character named after one of them, or a story featuring an epic sibling adventure (like this one you’re about to read), my brothers somehow imprinted themselves into the stories in my imagination.  Of course, this shouldn’t be a surprise because siblings are the first friends most of us make.  They are also likely to be our closest allies and our biggest rivals.  As the eldest, I’m sure I also felt a sense of duty to protect my younger brothers.  I think this story, if read between the lines, speaks quite eloquently to sibling bonds (oh, and my secret desire to be the ‘Pro’). This one’s for my ‘baby’ brothers…

The Thing That Ate My Brothers (1988)

One day, long ago, Peter, Ben and myself were walking through the forest next to our house. Suddenly, a big, black, hairy Thing jumped out of the bushes. With one great big gulp the Thing ate both of my brothers. The Thing charged after me, but I was too fast for it.  I ran as fast as my feet would carry me. I jumped over broken pieces of wood and old car parts. It was more like a dump than a forest.  I finally made it out into the open.  There were cars buzzing up and down the street. I figured I was north of my house. I had ran all the way to the other side of the forest.  Now it was hopeless! The only thing to do was see the Wise One.  The Wise One was an old hermit who lived at the Great Swamp.  I started my long journey.  I felt like turning back, but I was afraid the Thing would try and eat me too.  I thought about my brothers. Maybe there was still hope! Maybe I could rescue my brothers! I quickened my pace.  I reached the Wise One’s house just before sundown.  I knocked on the door three times before I entered.  The old hermit greeted me with a smile.

“Ah! Melissa. Welcome,” the hermit said.

“Hello, Wise One.  I have come to seek help.” I explained the whole horrible story to him. 

“Hmmmm. Very interesting. You say this Thing is big, black and hairy? Well that can only mean one thing!”

“What?!” I yelled horrified. 

“One of my dogs has gotten into my spider-growth potion,” the Wise One said.

“Well, what can I do to get my brothers back?” I asked hopefully.

“Take this needle and stick it in his arm.”

“Well that sounds easy enough. Bye and thanks!” I said.

“Wait!  There is one more important thing,” but it was too late.  I was off to rescue my brothers. 

I walked through bushes and thorn patches. I came upon a dark cave. I could hear the Thing snoring. This was my big chance! I tiptoed in quietly.

“Wait, wait!” a voice yelled.

I turned around. It was the hermit! The Thing awoke. It jumped up and chased after me. I ran into a hole. The hermit followed me. 

“Why did you do that?” I yelled.

“You must stick the needle in a certain spot. Otherwise you may end up killing your brothers. Stick the needle as close as possible to the shoulder,” said the Wise One. 

I thanked the Wise One and dodged past him and out into the open. The Thing glared at me with his big red eyes. Without even thinking I jumped on his arm and stabbed the Thing right under his left shoulder.  It let out one last terrifying roar! It then fell on the floor and changed into a black dog, Peter and Ben. The dog sat on its haunches.

When we arrived home Mom was hysterical. 

“Where have you been?” she asked sternly.

“Oh… we just had an amazing adventure where for once I was the Pro!” 

We all laughed, except for Mom who just stood there wondering. She would never know of the terror and fright our adventure had caused. 

M. xo

P.S. For those of you who know me personally, you’ll know how completely unbelievable this story is because there’s no way I would have ever “figured I was north of my house” given how ‘navigationally-challenged’ I am. 😉

P.P.S. The ‘Pro’ was a family nickname given to the elder of my youngest brothers, Pete.

P.P.P.S. It’s interesting how impressionable the young mind is.  I see influences of some of my favourite books and movies in this story.  Stand by Me was one of the first movies I ever saw in a theatre and the idea of scary things lurking in the forest has always stuck with me.  I was a big horror fan and read a lot of Stephen King books as a kid – probably more than I should have for my age at the time.  I see a lot of influences from the horror genre in my childhood writing. Maybe all those sleepless nights I spent afraid of Gremlins under the bed were worth it after all. 🙂

‘Things’ that Go Bump in the Night

 

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#TBT: Jack Grey’s Adventures with Dog (1986)

April 17th, 2014 No comments
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Last week, I posted on this blog my first Throwback Thursday (#TBT), but instead of posting old photos of myself, I’ve decided to share some writing from my childhood.  This next piece I wrote when I was ten years old.  It was around the time that I started getting interested in counter-cultures – even though I’m quite sure I didn’t even know what that meant at the time.

The main characters are a group of bad boys (and one Superpunk), and a pretty girl who saves the day – just because she can.  Yeah, apparently I was already thinking about reverse gender roles too.

Original draft (1986)

Original draft (1986)

Jack Grey’s Adventures with Dog (1986)

One dark eerie night, Jack Grey, Superpunk, was walking through the dark alley on Johnson Ave. 

“Hey, Buzz, what do you think you’re doing,” said Jack.

“I’m looking for grub,” replied Buzz.

“This is my territory, Buzzhead,” Jack said.

“So what?” said Buzz. “Hey Jack, look what I found.”

“What did you find, Buzzo?”

“Chocolate cake.”

“Leave it,” said Jack, “and come on.”

Jack and Buzz walked back to their fort in an old abandoned zoo on Adam St.

“Hi, George,” said Buzz.

“Whats happening my man?” George said.

Suddenly, George collapsed to the ground.  He had been shot.

“He was always faithful to us,” whined Buzz.

“Never mind him.  We got trouble.  Look who’s coming our way,” said Jack.

It was the Dog, alias Kevin George.  Jack had once said he only was afraid of the Dog.  Jack’s long black hair was flying through the air as he ran.  Jack was only 16 years old.  The Dog was 18 and strong. 

“I’ll cut that giant eagle tattoo off of you, punk,” yelled Dog. 

Buzz and Jack ran until they reached Donna Master’s house.  Donna was Jack’s girlfriend.  Donna didn’t know that Jack stole and lied.  Donna had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks.  She was sweet, gentle and wasn’t a dropout like Jack and Buzz.  She also despised Dog. 

“Ding, Dong,” went the doorbell.

“Why Jack, what brings you here?”

“I’m here because Dog has a gun and shot George,” Jack said with shivers down his spine.

“Well hurry and get inside,” panicked Donna. 

“Ding, Dong,” went the doorbell again. 

“Open up.  It’s Dog.”

“No, I will not open up.  You know I hate you.  Now go away,” said Donna angrily.

“Ok!  But I’ll be back,” said Dog angrily.

“Well he shouldn’t bother you anymore,” said Donna. 

And he didn’t for a long time afterward.  

M. xo

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#TBT: The Pea and the Swiss Cheese (1986)

April 10th, 2014 No comments
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It’s Throwback Thursday (#TBT) and I wanted to try something a little different! Instead of posting an old photo of myself, I thought I’d share some writing from my youth.  I admit, I’m a bit of a pack-rat.  Given this confession, it shouldn’t surprise anyone to find out that I have kept most of my writing over the years – even the horrible teen-angst poetry.  I’ve always believed that writing (and indeed any art form) is a journey.  So, I’m going to take this opportunity to share some of that journey with you here.  Are you ready to go w-a-a-a-a-y back? This first one is a short story I composed in grade school at the age of nine.

Original draft (1986), Age: 9 years

Original draft (1986), Age: 9 years

The Pea and the Swiss Cheese

One day a pea was sitting on the dining room floor. The pea’s name was Peter. He was bored. He had had a little excitement earlier in the day, when the human baby had tried to eat him. The baby had eaten Peter’s parents, and now he was an orphan.

Peter was ten days old. The longest any pea had lived was two weeks. Peter was going to make a vegetable record! Peter started bouncing merrily across the dining room floor.

He came across a piece of swiss cheese. The swiss cheese had been blinded from the bite of the human baby.

“Hi, my name is Peter. What’s yours?”

“My name is Swissella,” the swiss cheese replied.

At that moment, the dreaded vaccuum cleaner came charging into the dining room and sucked up the two new friends.

Peter and Swissella were never seen, or eaten, again.

M. xo

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