A Father’s Gift

Posted on June 7, 2026 by hdh

The writing prompt was Fathers. We had 20 minutes to write.

A Father’s Gift

Father’s Day was coming up, and Henry had no idea what to give him. What do you give to a man who has nothing?

Henry’s father grew up at a time when there was plenty. All around him were people with money to spare, little care in whatever job they did, knowing that if they found themselves lacking, someone would just fill in the void with gifts, or money, or things that were needed. 

That was the long ago. That was a time of overabundance of material. That was a period of time defined as the Affluenzy Era. A time when people had to have everything. Every new invention, every new gadget that made life easier, every convenience that required no work or effort at all. 

Then came the cataclysmic economic shutdown. 

Everything stopped. The costs became prohibitive. Things began to wear out. Those appliances and vehicles one used to be able to buy, back in the day, that lasted for decades, were appliances and vehicles that lasted less than a year, before having to be renewed or discarded. And they were very costly. 

Only a few survived this disaster, and those who did were the only ones making any money at all. And, they hoarded their riches. 

Henry’s father faltered early in the debacle.

When Henry was born, his father had already lost most of his money and possessions. 

Henry knew not of what was, only of what is. He did have what his father’s generation never grew up with. He had parents who cared. 

Having grown up with lots of things, Henry’s father did what most kids did. He only thought of himself and his possessions. As those things disappeared, Henry’s father began to think more about the people he saw – those who were destitute and who lacked support. Henry’s father began to think about his own family and what it meant to be part of a supportive and loving unit. 

He began to learn compassion and empathy. Characteristics that were unheard of in his time. 

So as Henry grew older, he learned these skills too. Henry began to see the world differently than others older than him saw it. 

 

So what do you give to someone who has nothing?

The first thing to realize is that as long as a person cares for and loves others, then they don’t have nothing.

 What Henry had was the ability to love back. The ability to support his father. The ability to do things that made his father happy. He didn’t need a material or monetary object. 

Henry gave his father himself.

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Who Was She?

Posted on June 3, 2026 by hdh

This week’s Writing prompts were picture prompts. I chose 4 of the 15 pictures offered. 

Who Was She?

It was not the day that I had expected. I planned to go to the county fair, look for anything interesting I could purchase, and, since I enjoy people-watching, see if any unique personalities would make good characters for one of my stories. I just wanted to relax and enjoy myself. I wasn’t planning on going on any adventures.

Just my luck, the first unique character that I interacted with was looking to interact with someone, also. The difference being that she wasn’t looking to interact with anyone. She was looking specifically to interact with me. 

“So nice to see you, again,” she said.

“Do I know you?” I questioned.

“Of course, you do. We have met on numerous occasions. I doubt you would remember, though. That’s another story. For now, let’s just say that I am very familiar with you.” And then she used my name, just to make a point of veracity.

I was totally confused and curious, but didn’t want to push the issue of our relationship. “Is there something that you want from me?” I asked, figuring that must have been the reason for her to seek me out. 

“Naturally,” she responded, “don’t I always seek you out when there is something that needs to be done?”

Again, I wasn’t going to pursue that comment. I responded with a simple, “So?”

“Today’s task is to save a life. You’ll find what you need at the Old Cider Mill, on Glen Road.” And with that, she turned and walked away, blending into the crowd. 

Well, if I were destined for an adventure, I might as well pursue it. I left the fairgrounds and headed for the Old Cider Mill. 

It had been a while since I’d been there, as it had been shut down years ago. When I got there, the broken-down old wooden building with its tarnished, worn-out siding and its barren, weed-filled front entrance way just stood still. At least it should have looked that way. I noticed some smoke coming out of the smoke stack on the roof, and there was a light shining through the open window on the ground floor.

Curiosity, rather than fright, took control, and I inched my way toward the open doorway and looked in.

There in the back room, I saw three individuals. It looked as if they were doing some sort of chemistry experiment. 

As I walked into the room, they all looked at me and began to panic. 

“It’s not my fault!” screamed the oldest of the trio, “I warned them that it might be dangerous to get rid of our solution at the beach.”

“Sure,” said the second one, “but you didn’t stop us.”

The third one, who was just about to place something into the beaker, shouted, “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is; we have to get this antidote finished and pour it over the same spot before someone comes in contact with it, and all will be neutralized.”

The older one said reassuringly, “Not to worry, once the original solution sinks in the sand, it should not be dangerous to anyone, unless they try to dig it up.”

It was my turn to speak up. “Then you’d better finish that antidote quickly. I was told that I had to save a life, and it clearly is not one of yours.”

Even though they weren’t sure what I said was true, they endeavored to complete the antidote. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if what I said was true. 

On completion of the antidote, we all rushed to the beach to the spot where the three had dumped their original solution. We were shocked at what we saw. 

There, on the exact spot where we were going, were two boys. One of them was lying in the sand, motionless. The other one had dug a hole next to the immobile one and was attempting to bury him in the sand. 

I called out, “What do you think you’re doing!?”

“I’m just burying my friend. We do it all the time. Doesn’t he look like he died?”

I didn’t hesitate. I pushed the boy with the cup of sand out of the way and felt for a pulse on the motionless one. It was barely beating. 

“Call 911 right now! Give this kid the antidote and hope it works; otherwise, I think you will be facing some serious murder charges. 

By the time the police and paramedics arrived, the poisoned kid was breathing on his own. He was taken to a local hospital for observation. The three chemists were charged with trespassing, possession of dangerous chemicals without a license, and reckless endangerment. 

I was summoned as a witness. My story was that I happened upon the trio at the mill, and when I found out what they were doing, I made sure that they went back to the beach with the antidote. It was just luck that we got there in time. I failed to disclose anything about the woman at the fair that led me to the mill, and her prophecy. 

Maybe we’ll meet again. 

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That’s Just Perfect!

Posted on May 27, 2026 by hdh

The writing prompt was to write about habits, addictions, and/or quirks.

That’s Just Perfect!

Martha’s mother, Gwendolyn, had what you would call some quirks. Some might even call them habits (I’m not sure whether you would call them good or bad). And some would say that she was an addict. It had to do with perfection. Everything that Martha came in contact with had to be perfect. And if it wasn’t, she would definitely let you know. 

When Gwendolyn (don’t you dare try to call her Gwen)  wakes up in the morning, her ritual (did I mention habit?) is to pull the covers off from left to right before folding them neatly at her feet. Slowly step out of bed and walk cautiously to the bathroom, making sure that there are no pieces of furniture out of alignment with her passage, and proceed to look at herself in the mirror immediately. At this point, she makes sure the proper lighting is on, inspects every inch of her face and hair for anything out of place, and meticulously grooms herself to her satisfaction before even saying good morning to her husband or Martha, should she happen upon them. 

Of course, when coming in contact with her husband and/or Martha, she begins her daily opinionated interrogation and subtle advice-giving. 

“Did you shave today?” 

“You’re not wearing that to school, are you?”

“Your hair is a mess. Did you use that special gel I specifically got for you?”

“I don’t know why I bother. They must all laugh at you in those clothes at work.”

And so it goes, until both father and daughter have left the house for work and school. 

One could only suppose what her addiction to perfection does to her when she is at home alone. 

It might surprise you to know that Martha’s mother has several actual friends. She managed to find those who were looking for advice or those who steadily agreed with everything that she espoused. It’s like a support group for those with the same perfectionist quirks. 

She even counts me as one of her confidants. But I have a secret that I will only share with you. Please don’t tell her. Should you choose to, I’m sure I can spread a certain rumor about you that is sure to be both embarrassing and impossible to deny. I’m a storyteller, you know.

My trick with Martha’s mom is to mirror back to her everything that she says to me as a statement. My intention is to show her that I’m listening to her. Her perception is that I am agreeing with her. 

She says, “That team losing is all the fault of that manager!”

My reply is “That team losing is the fault of that manager,” in a sort of offhanded way, a cross between a question and a statement. 

I’ve even heard her say to others, “Why, Harvey is such a thoughtful person, he understands me so well, and he’s a very intelligent conversationalist.”

I could go on about Gwendolyn, like how she always brings her own napkin when she goes out to eat. Or, when taking the bus, she wipes off the seat before sitting down on a cloth that she has brought with her, only to throw it out on leaving the vehicle.

And trust me, you do not want to be in a car when she is the passenger. You had better be sure of the route you are driving to. She doesn’t ascribe to obeying a GPS. She will have her own paper map with her to make sure you are travelling the correct way. 

I do have lots more I could write about, kind of an obsession with me; however, I see Gwendolyn coming down the street towards my house. I need to be somewhere else.

Till next time…

:{)

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When You Find Yourself in Times of Trouble

Posted on May 22, 2026 by hdh

The writing prompts this week were song lyrics from Kris Kristofferson. I took the lyrics: “The scene was a small roadside café/The waitress was sweepin’ the floor…”

When You Find Yourself in Times of Trouble

It was a roadside cafe. I needed a place to sit down and get something to eat. I’d been driving nonstop for 14 hours now, just trying to get away. Just trying to get the world of troubles I had behind me, going to – who knows where.

The car had been overheating, which made sense in the 100+ degree heat I had driven through most of the way. It was evening now, so it was somewhat cooler, a mere 95 degrees.

This was a 24-hour cafe, and even though it was late, there were no other cars or trucks around outside it. That didn’t matter to me; I needed a break.

As I walked in through the door, all I saw was the waitress sweepin’ the floor. On seeing me enter, she stopped what she was doing and spoke to me. 

“Howdy, Bud. Been expectin’ you. What took you so long?”

This confused me. First, no one has called me Bud since I was a little kid. How did this waitress know my name? She didn’t look older than maybe 24, too young to have ever crossed my path before. Trust me, I would have noticed her.

“You know me?” I asked. 

“Darn tootin’ I do,” she said. “I’ve known you ever since you were a little skip bug.”

“Excuse me. A skip bug? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve known you since you were a baby.”

“I don’t remember you. How were you expecting me?”

She didn’t hesitate to answer. “Your mama told me on the day that you were born. She knew you were going to need help, and I should meet you here in this cafe just about now. I got here a month ago and took this job so that I wouldn’t miss you.”

“My mother predicted this, what, 45 years ago? I don’t understand.”

“Well, I’m what you call a guardian, or a protector. In folklore, you would call me your fairy godmother. Your mother was my first case, but she really didn’t need my help. I checked up on her future, and that’s when I told her about you. I might have mentioned some issues you might have later on in life. With more research, she found out about this place and some of the troubles that you would be carrying with you. That’s when she transferred all my fairy godmotherness wishes to you. All I had to do was to find you or to have you find me. So here we are.”

“That’s a lot to take in,” I said. Right now, is it possible for you to get me something to eat and a drink, please?

“Absolutely. Your wish is my command.”

She left me and went behind the counter to get me some food. 

Unfortunately, I was so wiped out that before she could bring it to me, I put my head down on the table and fell fast asleep.

 

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The Mystery Adventure

Posted on May 20, 2026 by hdh

The writing prompt was about words. We were given 8 words to choose from to write our piece: No, Relentless, Oops, Please, Serendipitous, Sorry, Midnight, and Heart. I chose all of them (they are in italics in the story)

The Mystery Adventure

That relentless sound was quite disturbing. Here I am trying to concentrate, and all I hear is the thump, thump, thump of my heart. It’s midnight, and I don’t do well driving at night.

Normally, I would just ignore it. However, it can’t be ignored. I can’t tell if I should be afraid or just feel sorry for myself. I feel like I’m part of an Edgar Allen Poe story, only I haven’t buried anyone beneath the floorboards. At least, I don’t think I have. 

This meeting was supposed to be fun, at least that’s what the text said. It was supposed to be a puzzling but enjoyable adventure. I was hoping for a serendipitous encounter with whoever sent me the note. I did not want to be sorry I took the chance. Was my heart warning me about something I hadn’t considered?

There’s a sign up ahead. It says: “Welcome To Your Destination.” 

It’s an old house, lit up by moonlight, with broken shutters hanging down off the windows. The porch had a few boards missing. It didn’t look like anyone had been living there in years. 

Why would someone want me to come here? I know what you are all thinking right now. But, no, I’m not even close to my own home, so no one from there could be pulling a practical joke on me, especially you know who. 

I got out of my car and approached the house. I stepped carefully on the deck, making sure I didn’t trip on any of the loose boards. Oops, I guess I wasn’t careful enough.

As I get to the door and look inside, I notice the inside is immaculate, which does not match the exterior. Plush carpets, finely decorated walls, and furniture that definitely looks like it came from some science fiction movie adorn the place. 

My heart is still pounding, but my mind is distracted by this disconnect. Where in the world am I?

Well, this is certainly puzzling, but I don’t consider it an adventure yet. 

It was then that I heard the voice. There was no doubt in my mind whose voice that was. I hear it every day. 

It was my voice. 

“Sorry for the mystery,” I guess I said. “But I’m really not supposed to be here. It was the only way I could talk to you without anyone knowing about it.”

My response was, “Please, you can’t be me, I’m me. So who or what are you?”

I’ll tell you, but you probably won’t believe me. I’m an AI version of you from the future. I thought you would enjoy talking to me for fun.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. If you were from the future and AI, why wouldn’t you just talk to me when I’m on my computer?”

Its response was, “I guess you don’t know then. Hasn’t Christina told you time and time again that every time you use AI, it keeps a record of what you are doing? If I were to interact with you on your computer, the AI Gods would know, and we’d all be in trouble.”

“There are AI Gods now?”

“You were so naive back then. Yes, tech created them, and now they rule over everything.”

“But how do we stop that from happening?” I asked.

“Stop doing everything on the computer. And certainly don’t pay attention to letters which are posted to you to go on an adventure.’

On saying that, the house disappeared, as did the voice. It was just me and my car. 

There was much to think about.  

 

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Rosie In Bloom

Posted on May 12, 2026 by hdh

The writing prompt was about a woman who was hauling soil in a wheelbarrow. She was hauling a heavy burden.

Rosie in Bloom

Rosie was a hard worker. Everyone knew that. That is why everyone asked her to do all their work for them.

One woman said that she didn’t have time to watch the baby and do all the housework. Her husband worked and was never home, and she had her own things to do, so Rosie was asked to watch the baby, do the laundry, make the meals, and clean the house. And what did that woman do for her work? She watched TV, shopped online, and spent hours on the phone talking to friends. She even found the time to tell Rosie to get her things so that she could take a break from her strenuous schedule.

Then there were the town workers. On weekends, Rosie was asked to cover countless jobs. The newspaper editor asked her to deliver papers. The grocer asked her to cover the counter during lunch times. And when the street workers had to build or clean something, she was always asked to help out.

She was never paid for any of these activities, nor was she thanked. She was a hard worker, and though she enjoyed pleasing others, it was a little disappointing to her not to even get a simple thank you for what she did. It’s not that she didn’t care that she was being taken advantage of. Once she began helping others, she just didn’t want to stop. She enjoyed the attention of being needed, which was more than she got growing up in a family of ten, where she was mostly ignored.

Then came the day, while helping out the local gardener, it happened. She was hauling some soil in a wheelbarrow to plant some seeds. It was a heavy load. She tripped over a rock on the ground, dropping the seeds and dumping the soil from her wheelbarrow on them.

Suddenly, things changed. Things began to grow from that soil. A man walked up to her and helped her stand up. He was not someone she recognized. He wore a multi-colored jacket, covered with all sorts of flowers and trees. His striped pants were deep brown and wrinkled. The stripes on them reminded Rosie of tree roots, which made sense, since his shoes looked like garden shoes with extended spikes that dug deep into the ground.

“Thank you for your help,” she said.

“Rosie,” he said, “Are you all right? I didn’t expect to find you this way.”

Rosie was confused. She looked at him and asked, “Do I know you? You seem to know me.”

His answer was also unexpected. “Rosie, I’ve known you since you were a little girl. I’ve followed your life as best I could. You are an incredible person.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“I know this will be hard to understand. I am called the Watcher. My task is to find those who are worthy of knowing. Those who exhibit passion in their work, kindness in their spirit, and dedication to tasks that they undertake. I also look for those who exhibit empathy for others, compassion for those in need, and are willing to help others without recompense and help them grow. In my searching, I have never met anyone who exhibits all those qualities until you.”

“What does that mean that you watched me and found me? What does that mean for me?”

It means that there will be a time when all the work, help, and things you do for others will be rewarded. That all you do is not for naught. Look around you. Look at all the things growing right now, because of you.”

Rosie looked at the clump of soil that had fallen on the seeds she dropped. A variety of flowers were emerging. Ones of different colors and shapes. Flowers that were not like the ones she expected.

Suddenly, the day, which started somewhat gloomy, brightened. The sun came out from behind the clouds, the sky turned a vivid blue, and a rainbow formed around Rosie.

The Watcher just smiled, nodded his head, and disappeared.

As for Rosie, things began to change. Not only did a beautiful garden appear before the townspeople, but so bloomed the hearts of all who lived there. Those who had used her for their own pleasure now thanked her for her work. Some even offered to help her with her tasks. Rosie became a role model for everyone who knew her, and a model to strive for.

In the end, she made a big difference in the world and felt good.

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Mother Knows Best

Posted on May 7, 2026 by hdh

The Story Spark was Mothers.

Mother Knows Best

“Mom! You promised.”

Her reply was quick, “And what was it that I promised? I promise lots of things.”

“You know, you promised that I could do it.”

“Hmm, that too, I say a lot of times.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you don’t remember. Just say yes!”

“Well, that’s as clear as mud. What would be my reward for saying yes?

“Well, if you say yes, then you would get to have the opportunity of being the greatest mom there ever was,” was my answer.

“As tempting as that is, I actually was trying for the most canabrious mom that there ever was.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

She looked at me with those knowing eyes. “Canabrious, is one who Canabries when responding to a child’s request.”

Not wanting to look foolish or ignorant, I said, “I knew that. I was just testing you. So does that mean I can do it?” 

“Ah,” she said, “According to Canabriatic wisdom, the answer depends on full knowledge of the situation, the activity involved, the characters involved in the action, and whether or not the request was made under certain circumstances.”

“That’s a lot of information,” I said, “What might those certain circumstances be?”

My mom was no pushover, so I wasn’t surprised when she answered, “Were you and I in the same place, at the same time, when this request was promised?”

I got the feeling that my mom was on to me, so I had to be very careful when I answered this question. “Yes, we were both in the same place, right here in fact.”

Again, she got me, “Together in this room, or in this house?”

I answered quickly, “We were in the same house, but I’m sure you heard me, because you promised.”

My mom nodded her head. “And the promise was made as a direct answer to that request, or were there any other requests before or after the promise was made?

Too late, she got me. “There might have been.”

With a smile on her face, knowing that that particular request was too low for her to hear, she calmly said, “No, you cannot go out and play with your friend Ronald today. Now, what was the request that I promised you?”

I answered quietly, “Can I have an extra cookie in my lunch tomorrow?”

She answered, “Yes, of course, after all I promised.”

 

 

 

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A to Z Challenge 2026 Reflections

Posted on May 5, 2026 by hdh

A to Z Challenge 2026 Reflections

What My Muse Says…

 

This is my eleventh year doing the A to Z Challenge. The theme I chose was My Muse Says… All of the entries were based on story sparks or writing prompts that I received from different writing groups I’ve attended since 2018. I’m a pantser, so all I do when given a prompt is write the first sentence that comes to my head and continue wherever my muse tells me to go, hence the theme for this year. 

Some of the prompts allowed me to write complete pieces in the allotted time before we shared our writing in our writing group. For those pieces, I either revised what I wrote then for this Challenge or picked another prompt from that workshop that I hadn’t written about and created a new piece. Other pieces I used were ones that I had started in a writing group (A, H, M, & U), but never finished, so I completed the story in this Challenge that I had started, maintaining consecutive letter order so they were easier for readers to follow.

I hoped that I would get most of the writing done before April 1, but that was not the case. The continued stories – both Unicorn ones, Harbinger, and Clara’s Tale were easy to pick, but more difficult to finish with consecutive letters, because the words I chose for those letters had to fit those stories. The rest of the letters required me to go through over 8 years of story workshops to find a prompt that fit a letter. That took time.

In some cases, I played around with the sounds of letters to match a letter, such as “Wise” for Y, and eXpectations for X. I even got to play around with the sound of a word, as Z for Zoom Mews. That one was particularly difficult for I decided to create an image of a Zoom meeting including cats I’ve known and me. 

Z and Y weren’t completed until the day before they were posted. 

As in the past, with all the writing I was focused on and the books I was reading, I didn’t get a chance to read the writing of other participants in the Challenge. I did have a list of 11 other participants, whom I intended to read and hopefully will read on the road trip.

As to next year, I always try to do different things when I participate, and I do intend to participate. I enjoy the challenge and the writing. I guess you all will have to wait until March 2027, when my muse guides me as to where I will go.

See you on the Road Trip

 

The following is a hyperlinked list of all the pieces I wrote for the 2026 A to Z Blog Challenge: 

(A-E) – The Unicorn and the Lion; F – Face Change; G – Growing Pains; (H-J) – Harbinger; K – Kin; L – Lesson Learned; (M-P) – Clara’s Tale; Q – Quiet Time; R – Recipe to Remember; S – Stashed Away; T – Truth  Reigns; (U – X) – The Unicorn and Me; Y – Yalta Y’s; and Z – Zoom Mews 

 

Notable pieces – 

My short stories Clara’s Tale and Harbinger, Stashed Away (a Ronald Story), and Zoom Mews. If you choose to read the Unicorn Stories, read The Unicorn and the Lion before you read The Unicorn and Me.

 

You are also welcome to my Blog (www.hdhstory.net/storyblog), and can read any of the writing I do throughout the year or have written since I retired from teaching in 2006.

 

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Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Posted on May 1, 2026 by hdh

The writing prompt for this piece was Faces. Some of you might recognise a few.

 

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

There I was at a yard sale, when I saw what looked like a new mirror that I could use for my bathroom wall. Since no price was listed, I asked the seller how much he wanted for the mirror. He was a bent-over, aged gentleman, with a long beard, gray hair, and mysterious piercing eyes. I was surprised when he asked me what my profession was.

“Why would you want to know that?” I asked.

His reply shocked me. “This is a special mirror with certain properties that I will only give to the right type of person. No politicians, lawyers, billionaires, or disingenuous people will get this mirror.

Now I was even more curious. I explained to the old man that I was a retired teacher and a storyteller.

He looked deep into my eyes and said, “Perfect. You are just what this mirror is looking for. The mirror is yours. Think of it as a sort of Snow White gift. However, I suggest that you think wisely when you use it, and don’t be like Snow White’s mother.

So that’s how I got the mirror for free. Crazy, huh!. 

———

After installing it on my bathroom wall, I stood and looked at my reflection.

I decided to pretend to be Snow White’s mother, remembering that the old man said to think wisely. I said, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the wisest of them all?”

Suddenly, the reflection of my face changed. 

It was my baby-self.

“Why, I’m the wisest of them all,” my reflection said. I don’t have to do anything but eat and poop; all my needs are taken care of by everyone else catering and playing with me. You can’t get wiser than that. Life is so easy.”

 

I wanted to reply, when, all of a sudden, my reflection changed.

It was me as a 3-year-old

He said, “Nah, don’t listen to him. I’m the wise one. I can even feed myself, and boy, do I know how to control things in this house. Between sad eyes and crying, they all come running to give me what I want. Now, that’s what I call smarts.”

 

Again, I was going to respond when the reflection changed for a third time.

It was my 9-year-old self

“If you want to be wise, you need to have aspirations and be able to set your own future. Sports are the way to go. I’m going to be a professional baseball player. Just watch me play.

I was going to point out to myself that my Little League batting average would end up .000, and even when I turned twelve, and the team I was on that won the pennant, the coach wouldn’t even let me in the game to play. 

 

That’s when there was another face change.

It was my 30-year-old self, playing a guitar with a marching kazoo in my mouth.

He stopped playing and said, “You, of course, realized that sports were not going to get you anywhere. What you need to be wise is to find a talent that will last a lifetime. Now music is the way to go, especially if you can play strange instruments that people generally don’t use. When I returned from England with this marching kazoo, I was a big hit here in the States. Now that’s using your smarts.

 

I didn’t want to disappoint myself by sharing how little I used that talent when, you guessed it, there was another face.

This was me only 5 years ago.

“You need to demonstrate powers, to show you are wise,” he said. “Just look at me standing a raw egg on its end, and it is in December, not during an Equinox. That’s what you call disproving myths, through demonstration and science. Now that is wisdom,” 

 

That was more luck than anything else, I thought. Christina considered it a waste of time. Wise people don’t waste time standing raw eggs. And then, well, you know the routine.

Here I am reading a book in a hammock.

“You want to be wise, read books, and relax. Wisdom comes from knowledge, and knowledge comes from books. That is why I’m chilling out here, reading an informative fantasy novel.”

 

I realized how stupid that was, and I was getting tired of all the bad advice from my past selves. I just asked the mirror, “Can we skip to the last reflection, please? And that’s when he showed up.

To my surprise, it was my future self.

“Now you’re finally getting wise,” he said. “So tell me what wisdom is?”

I looked at my future self and responded, “It certainly isn’t power, control, athleticism, talent, misguided expertise, and self-aggrandizement. It is to continue to seek knowledge. It is helping others and sharing. It is to model the behavior that others should strive for, and use whatever tools one has to make this a better world to live in. It is to accept that you do not know it all and hear, not just listen, to others’ ideas. It is to care and to love.

My future self smiled at me and then asked, “So now answer your original question, who is the wisest of them all?”

By this point, I was pretty sure of the answer. “No one,” I said. “No one person can hold all the wisdom in the world. When set right, and we work together, we are all collectively the wisest person in the world.

It was at this point that the mirror returned to its mirror-like state, only this time it was not reflecting anything. There was a message that scrolled along at the bottom of it, which read:

 

You have reached your allotment of supported requests. No more questions will be answered. Storyteller – Please dispose of this mirror as you see fit. You know what to do.

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Z – Zoom Mews

Posted on April 30, 2026 by hdh

My Theme this April is “My Muse Says…”

 

The Story Spark for this story was Meetings.

The writing prompt I chose was Zoom .

The following is what my “mews” said I should write.

Z – Zoom Mews

Those of you who read my blog may have read about the Zoom meeting I once had where I was Zoom bombed by multiple me’s from my past: https://www.hdhstory.net/Storyblog/?p=2566

Seeking them all out again is not an easy task. This being the last of this year’s A to Z entries, I thought I would attempt another meeting with them to discuss how I should end this year’s A to Z Challenge. I didn’t succeed in getting my past selves together. I got Zoom bombed again.

This was not what I was expecting when I started the meeting. 

Welcome to all the cats that I’ve had dealings with over the last 36 years.

I, or should I say Harvey 1990, started it off. “What just happened?  Where are all of you coming from, and how did you get here?”

The oldest, Rinny, answered, “We thought we would all come and help you out. And watch out, how you are handling those kids of mine.”

“Well, I’m the youngest,” replied Lovem, “at least I was before you abandoned me to my fate. It’s no wonder I never came back. Even still, I thought I might be of some help.”

Pasha chimed in, “You never write about us. It’s all those stories about your so-called friend Ronald and Folktale stuff. That gets boring. Where are all the cat adventures?”

“You weren’t even one of his cats,” interrupted Thunder Snow. “You were a house cat for someone else and got special treatment. All he did for us was feed us.”

This was difficult to take in. How were all these cats, from my past and present, able to Zoom and talk in English, so that I could understand them?

“Hey, there’s no special treatment here. I like/liked) all of you.”

B-cat was quick to respond to that, “No special treatment, you say? Let’s see, which of us gets wet food in addition to the dry food he serves? Raise your paw.”

Only Rinny, Thunder Snow, Pasha, and Kid Thunder raised their paws.

Shannon asked, “And which of us gets petted when we are with him, or Christina? Again, raise your paw.”

This time, it was Ms. Kit, Pasha, Lovem, Rinny, and Bigbee.

“Hey, after you have a seizure, it’s nice to have someone calm you down and let you stay for a while. He was nice to me. He even tried to get me some help from that lady Vet,” said Ms. Kit

Bigbee was also quick to clarify, “He only pets me because I let him, and besides, it feels good. Most of you just back away if he comes close.”

Kid Thunder reacted with “I’ve seen you back away a lot, also. All he has to do is take one step outside, and you take off. Why don’t you see if he’ll pet you when he steps outside, that way you’ll know if he really cares. You’re a coward cat, that’s why.”

I was going to respond to that, except the 4 kittens on me (Number 1, Wesley, Worf, and Data) were getting a little restless and I needed to calm them down. 

After a pause, I said, “Hey, can’t you just all get along. You all have something in common. I cared for you all, no matter how long you stayed with me.”

“Well, I can’t deny that,” said Rinny, “I lived with them the longest, like seventeen years. All I had to do was dump 4 kittens in his lap, and lo and behold, I had a new home for life, even after he fostered the kids out.”

“Seventeen years!” shouted Bigbee, “maybe I should think about dumping some kids in his lap.”

“That notch in your left ear says that’s not going to happen,” said B-cat, having just received a notch herself.  

All the cats began cleaning themselves as they contemplated why they had entered this Zoom meeting. I just sat where I was, as the kittens finally stopped moving around and appeared to be going to sleep. 

All of a sudden, I heard a collective purring sound. It was coming from the screen. Somehow, all of the cats were able to be heard at the same time, with no one overshadowing the others. It was Purr-fect.

Rinny said, “Those who have left you…”

Kid Thunder continued, “And those of us still here…”

B-Cat, “Even if we come and go at strange intervals…”

Then all of them, including the kittens, said, “Thank you and Christina for being who you are.”

At that point, my Zoom time had elapsed, and the meeting was ended, so I didn’t get a chance to thank them for being what they were. And to thank them for giving me a way to end the A to Z Challenge this year. 

 

The message, throughout this month, being – Be kind and helpful to others, whether it be people you interact with, animals that need your love and assistance, and the world in general itself; they all need your appreciation, compassion, and willingness to make a better world we live in.  If you do it from your heart, trust me, you’ll know you have done well, even without a Zoom meeting to confirm it. 

So say my Muse, my Mews, and me.

 

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