wodke-hawkinson.com Blog Musings from deviant minds (Or how writers think)

Flash Fiction and Poetry

 

SILENT KNIGHT

Heartbeat Thunder

Sitting tall on mighty steed

He bravely rides into the night

To fight the beast reigning terror

On the city once made of light

Knight Rider

 

Sword flashes, heartbeats thunder

Come dragon’s fiery corruption

A flash of claws, lightning quick

Man meets swift destruction

Knight fighter

 

Dragon returns to the mountain

Soldier wounded; gashes; gore

Feathery heartbeat fades away

The fighter knows no more

Knight silence

 

This is an ABC Story starting with the letter "J"

Vinnie Did This

Jail wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Killers and perverts ran amok. Learning to stay out of their way wasn’t easy. Meaty hands reached through the bars attempting to grab new prisoners as they were brought in.

Never again,” I swore under my breath.

Open containers of beer are frowned on by the police when they pull you over for a burned out taillight. Pretty soon, they think they have the right to search you. Quirky SOBs.

Random luck on their part led them to the body in the trunk. Shocked looks passed between me and my buddy when the lid popped open.

That’s not mine,” I exclaimed.

Umm, how did it get here then?”

Vinnie did this!” I said with certainty, expecting them to believe me.

What do you mean; who’s Vinnie?”

Xavier’s cousin, everybody knows that.”

You’ll both be coming down to the station; we have a lot of questions.”

Zoning out, I missed the whole booking process. All I remember is sharing a cell with Big Earl who insisted on giving me neck massages. Before I knew it, morning had arrived along with my lawyer.

Crying won’t do any good at this point; just tell me what happened,” Giovanni said, pen poised over a yellow legal pad.

Dude, me and Bruce were hangin’ at the corner when suddenly Vinnie pulled up, jumped from this car, and told us to deliver it to the docks. Everything happened so fast; Vinne told us to go, and we went. Friggin Vinnie. Got me in trouble again.”

Hey,” Giovanni said softly, “I can’t get you out of this.”

I resigned myself to spending many quality hours with Big Earl.

 

 

The definition of an Acrostic poem a poem or series of lines in which certain letters, usually the first in each line, form a name, motto, or message when read in sequence. In this instance I used an item of clothing I have on.

Slippers made for comfort,
nestle my feet, keep them warm
on cold winter nights.
White fur at the tops,
balls dangle from the fronts,
only there to look pretty.
Over snuggly slippers,
tucked inside the soft lining, my feet
slumber while I sit at the computer writing
limericks and acrostic poems.
I sit in comfort
pleased with the results of my
pretty and soft snow boots,
each keeping my tootsies toasty.
Ready for bed, I
slip off the boots and slide beneath the covers; good night.

 

 

In a fiery pit, in the depths of the earth, creation had begun. The Demons, Corruption and Deceit, vomited their spirit onto a growing mass of evil. Two other hellish fiends, Hate and Destruction, voided their bowels, adding to the mixture. Demon
after demon provided its own special talents until finally they had all contributed.

Their dark lord entered the cavern. With a thunderous laugh he passed his hand over the vile mess, uttered ancient words, and stood back as his creation came to life.

One of a kind, the creature hissed at the demons, causing them to take a step back. Even they reeled from the sight, felt faint hearted.

Leaping up, the newborn raked its razor sharp claws into the cavern’s ceiling, digging into the hard rock. Within seconds it had disappeared as it ripped its way to the surface above where it would, with finality, turn existence there into a
living nightmare.

As it climbed it grew stronger. At last it sensed it was within seconds of bursting from the earth.

The farmer plowing his field never saw the horrifying head that emerged from the ground just as the blade of his disc sliced through sinews and cleaved the body in half.

Below, Satan screamed in rage. His plans foiled before they were hatched. The child of his creation had achieved only one deed before its demise. Nothing would ever grow in that particular spot again.

 

Nestled in a warm crevice, in the depths of the earth, creation had begun. Beings of  light, Peace and Truth, had sown a precious seed millennia ago. Cherubs, Joy and Healing, bathed it in compassion. Other angels provided their own special blessings until finally all had contributed.

The Holy Spirit entered the cavern. With a thunderous command he passed his hand over the tender kernel, uttered ancient words, and stood back as the creation came to life.

One of a kind, the creature shone from within like a beacon, causing the beholders to take a step back. Even they were overwhelmed by the sight, felt glad of heart.

Rising up, the newborn spread its opalescent wings, soared to the cavern’s ceiling, and drilled like a blinding laser into the hard rock. Within seconds it had disappeared as it tunneled its way to the surface above where it would, with authority, share its gifts with all humanity.

As it ascended it grew stronger. At last it sensed it was within seconds of bursting from the earth.

The farmer plowing his field never saw the glorious body that emerged from the ground as the blade of his disc passed harmlessly through it perfect form.

Spirits everywhere sang joyous praise. The long-awaited relief was at hand. The child of His creation had already achieved one deed before its journey had truly begun. Everything would flourish in that particular spot from that time forward.

 

 

 

 

My heart is beating as fast and loud as a runaway trains wheels on its tracks. Someone has been following me since I left the library. I reach the tree-lined street leading to my home and sense the presence closer. I break into a jog, but so does my pursuer. Lord, help me, I pray.

As I run onto my porch I turn to see, not one, but fourteen high school joggers run past. My heart returns to normal.

A stranger steps from the shadows, a knife flashes, my life ends.

~pj

Criminal

To him I was a cactus
arms stretched towards the sky
He would not answer questions
nor would he tell me why
I stood with arms upraised,
unto the scorching sun,
while sweat trickled down my sides,
as he stood with outstretched gun.
Cautiously cross hard packed sand
he approached me from behind.
“Hands on hood,” he shouted,
“you’re suspected of a crime.”
He stepped in closer, carefully,
as though my thorns might prick.
He patted me down for weapons
he found did not exist.
Then a call came on his radio
he kept his eyes on me,
And then he said I could go.
Just that. And I was free.
I drove on a sun baked road
thinking “oh what luck.”
It would have been a different story
if he’d looked inside my trunk!

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Proud,

head high,

reservations trap body; not my soul.

Box,

strings strung,

cradled in arms; sings of my land.

Flowing,

drifting away,

melancholy chords strummed; end of day.
-pj

Thanks to Paul Karslake for letting me use the image of Ronnie Woods guitar. Please visit his site to see his fine art on guitars at:

http://www.paulkarslake.co.uk/index.php?CATEGORY=2&SUB=1&THISPAGE=1&RADIOSORT=4&PICFILE=29&STKNR=29&STRH=4046&ORDN=2303

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

My daughters and I enjoy telling stories with one of us giving a small part and then the next person adding on, and so forth. Last night, my daughter Denise and I played this game by text message. The following story is what we had at the end of an hour (while she worked out and I read). My lines are red. With luck, we plan to continue the saga.

Blue, Pink, and Black go to Sea

Pink and Blue went to sea in a tiny bottle. They had a lot of trouble because Black kept threatening to push out the cork. So even though Blue loved to joke around with Black, he knew he was going to have to put an end to this before Pink did.

So Blue reached over and flipped Black in the ear and whispered, “Please don’t make me look stupid in front of Pink. You know I’ve been working on her for a month.”

“Pink and you? Don’t make me laugh.” Black chortled. “Pink has always been into Brown; you know that. If Brown finds out you’ve been putting the moves on his Pink he’s gonna blow. And we know what a stink that would make.”

“But,” cried Blue, “Pink and I could make beautiful Purple if only she would wake up. I’m tired of playing these games with her. Just last year she was into Red. A girl for Christ’s sakes. Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we take the long way. That way I have more time to work on her.”

“You deranged idiot. But, whatever.” Black set the bottle control to a new setting and they sailed toward the far coordinates of Umgerloo. Black had something he wanted to take care of there anyway. For Umgerloo was the site of treasure buried by the great pirate, Orange. And Black had a map with a big X on it that was sure to lead him to the treasure and no one had to be the wiser, for he had no intention of sharing with Pink and Blue.

Black opened the cork a slit and peered out into the endless turquoise sky. He thought that in the distance he might have saw another bottle. One flying the flag of the Indroponese. He hated those indrops. They were always dropping in uninvited. Now it looked like they would be dropping here. Black told Blue to hid Pink because the indrop men had the habit of taking women as their own. Now Black thought if push came to shove, he might offer Pink to them but he certainly wouldn’t tell Blue.

Suddenly, Pink spoke. “Why do you guys keep acting like I can’t hear you? I’m in the same bottle here. Now let me tell you something. If those indorps are coming here, then you guys better get ready to beg for your lives. I am not worried about myself because I can control their thoughts. Master Yellow was teaching me the art before I was sent on this mission. Maybe you should take off those dresses too, or they might think your are girls. You namby-pambies.”

Blue said, “Mission? What mission? No one told me about no mission.”

Then, Black and Pink exchanged looks and Pink said, “Blue! Open your eyes! Does a normal bottle carry the chest of musturdanary and the gems of alketchuuup? No. I thought not. Now…

But before she could continue, the indrops blew their bottle to pieces and now there is nothing left of Blue, Pink, and Black except swirls of color on the sea.
The end!
--dl and pj

___________________________________________________________

Game Day

Big screen TV, a six-pack of beer,

he readies for my visit.

He calls all his friends, be here by four,

and be sure you make it on time.

Bowls full of peanuts and popcorn sit near,

while he anxiously awaits my arrival.

Once a year I come to his front room,

and touch down for a January day.

Leave once again, but I will be back,

the guest he loves more than the rest.

____________________________________________

Living Land

A beach, washed clean by tides

A brook, flowing on its way

A wind, across the land

A ray, from behind a cloud

A grove, reaching for the sky

Everlasting Earth
-pj

_____________________________________________

Furby Goes Online

When I arrived home today, I was exhausted. Entering the house, I made little, to no, noise. As soon as I entered the room, I noticed the screen on the computer was lit and a site was pulled up.

Thinking someone was in the house, I ducked into the other room. Should I call the police? Should I run? I listened. I heard no sound.

Cautiously, I stuck my head back into the room. The screen was dark. Nothing was moving. I entered the room and found a most astonishing sight. My Furby was sitting in front of the computer, one fuzzy little foot on the mouse.

I eased the pc from in front of the electronic robot. Booting up the computer, I pulled up the history. I opened the most recent site and made a horrifying discovery; my Furby had been viewing porn.

Now, I know most of you must be thinking I’ve gone cuckoo. But, it’s a fact. I saw it with my own eyes, and you can too. Just visit the site below where they have a nude Furby on display; oh, they’re promoting the site as Hacked Gadgets, but I know the ugly truth. I witnessed my Furby enjoying the unsavory sight.
-pj

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://hackedgadgets.com/wp-content/images_pic-medium-24158-New_Furby_Robomonster.jpg&imgrefurl=http://hackedgadgets.com/2006/01/04/20/&h=500&w=399&sz=47&tbnid=L250pXwTuheczM:&tbnh=251&tbnw=200&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dfurby&zoom=1&q=furby&hl=en&usg=__1UeQGYzQZnSVNn-kqW893fGzUuc=&sa=X&ei=f9XxTPiwNYOClAfnis3iDA&ved=0CCMQ9QEwAA

___________________________________________________________

First Day on the Job

Carrie stood outside the door. I can’t go in there, she thought. They’ll skin me alive.

She paced back and forth. She stopped walking and chewed a hangnail. She ran a nervous hand through her hair, tousling it and then smoothing it back down.

What was I thinking? I should have never applied for this job; and they should have never hired me. So what if I have the proper degree? I don’t have any experience. Ohh, what am I going to do? I was supposed to be in there five minutes ago.

Carrie felt nauseous. She should turn around and go home. She should quit before she really got started.

A short redhead flounced by and smiled before entering the room. Carrie took a deep breath. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. That redhead seemed nice.

Straightening her back, Carrie reached out a hand and turned the knob. She walked to the front of the room, picked up a piece of chalk, and in large letters, she printed her name. Turning to the room full of second graders she said, “Good morning class, my name is Miss Jenkins.
-pj

____________________________________________________________

phone

I’ll Send Boyd

To say Marcel was speechless would be an understatement. When he had left for work this morning everything had been fine. Now, sitting across from him in his living room was an old acquaintance; Kramer Cranston.

Marcel lifted the phone and dialed a number from memory, a number he hadn’t called for twenty years. The voice on the other end answered tersely, “Speak!”

“It’s me,” was all Marcel said.

“What do you want,” asked the voice. “You weren’t supposed to ever contact me again.

“Yes, I know. But there’s a problem.”

“What kind of a problem?” The voice was suspicious now.

“Kramer Cranston,” Was all Marcel said.

Silence blasted through the phone line as the listener contemplated Marcel’s words. At last, he spoke, “Where is he?”

“He’s sitting in my living room. I’m staring at him now.”

A sigh, “Put him on the phone.”

"That would be impossible,” Marcel said.

“Impossible? Why?”

“He’s dead!”

Again silence reigned. Then, “I’ll send Boyd. He’ll take care of everything.”

“Tell him to wait until after dark.”

“Don’t tell me how to handle things. After Boyd takes care of your problem I plan on never hearing your voice again. Understood?”

“Absolutely.”

Boyd arrived after dark, loaded the dead Kramer Cranston into the trunk of his Lincoln, and drove away without a word. Marcel tidied up the living room and went to bed. He never called the phone number again.

-pj

_____________________________________________________

Dream Gifts

I baked today, gifts for friends

I made their favorite things.

For Rita,

a batch of rain cookies,

vanilla thunder for Tom.

Cinnamon refrain

especially for Carla;

licorice dirt for Lyam.

I whipped up a batch

of ice cream paint

that Ira really likes.

Lemon torment is just the thing

for Lucy to eat tonight.

Apple knight

and green apple grapes,

a particular treat for Granny;

chocolate ocean coated

with pepper explosions

is what I made for Franny.

And last but not least,

I must not forget,

to bake up a peppermint baby

and soak it real well,

in a bubblegum river

to give to my neighbor, Sadie.

-PJ Hawkinson

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Red Dress

Red dress, draped
on tailor's dummy,
showing off, flashy,
dancing in window.
I imagine floating
across the floor
on the arm of
whoever. I visualize
waltzing to orchestral
music. I dream of
moving on air. Empty
pockets. There is no
whoever. I move on.
Red dress dances alone.

-PJ Hawkinson

Comments (0) Trackbacks (0)

No comments yet.


Leave a comment

(required)

No trackbacks yet.