An Autumn Message

The writing prompt I chose today was “The fall always brings change, but this year…” We had 20 minutes to write.

An Autumn Message

The colors change 

The world revolves 

The time has come

The winds blow gently as thoughts collect

It is time to release that which has been withheld

The energy within us has been stored

Foretelling the way which we must go

Behold, I am the spirit

Behold, I bring forth a way of being

Behold, I am your future

I stand before a mountain of doubt

I see the fissures of destruction

I feel the worry of the many

I know where we are headed

But stop, think not of what’s wrong

Think not of the damage and hurt

Think not of the trials that we must face

Be the now

Look to the successes, though they be small

Look for the cans, not the cannots

Believe in what you do, and not on what you don’t

I grow as you do

Thinking what is to come is the worst

Then that is what I become

Dream that which you desire

And make it be so

Then I become strong

Look around. You are not alone

Let your conscience be your guide

Together we are all strong

The colors will always change

The wind will continue to blow

Embrace the change for good

And we will survive. 

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Friend or Foe? POV

The original prompt in 2024 was to write about household items – something useful. After writing the piece, it was suggested that I write another piece from a different point of view (a drop of water), which I did. Here are both pieces:

Friend or Foe? 

Written January 14, 2024

It drips from faucets, clear – drop by drop. Steady sounds of unbearable torture

Drooping plants and flowers call to it – Give me strength

A desert’s claim of power knows not of its being.

Yet an oasis of hope nurtures its very essence.

It tempers fire’s embers

Scientists refuse to call it by name; you are only two letters and a number

Earth is its home. It exists more than anything else, and it continues to grow

It’s pulled from the sky, so there is no escape.

Its growth is not its own. It has a dark side.

It takes from others.

It borrows from the frozen places where man’s foolishness has let ice flow

It taints the world that prisons it by utilizing more of man’s mistakes.

Acidic torrents make things wilt and die.

It relishes in the power it holds and the destruction that uses its force to kill

But why?

You are needed. You bring life. You quench a need that means survival.

You are our savior.

 

You are water

——————

Another POV

Written September 28, 2026

Yes, I drip from faucets.

Your efforts to contain me show weakness

Deserts and fire claim dominion, yet I remain

What meaning do letters and a number have to my strength

What makes me exist, bonds me to eternal life

Look to the oceans, seas and lakes

Look to the sky where clouds attempt to hold my essence

Yes, I destroy, but only when instructed so by Mother Nature

It is to remind you of your place on Earth

Your careless waste of resources

Your disdain for each other

Your seeming hatred for life

You profess that you care, yet your actions say otherwise

I am water, and I am not your savior.

It is you who holds the ultimate power

You are responsible for my actions

You must take care if you hope to survive.

Let not greed, power, and ignorance be your guides

Listen to your heart, and the hearts of others in need

Feel the Earth, the Sun, and yes – me

Make a difference; it’s your choice

Are you friend or foe?

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What a Way to Make a Living

This week’s writing prompt, in tribute to Dolly Parton, was her song title, “9 to 5.” I chose the second line of the chorus as my spark. 

What a Way to Make a Living

Harry was beside himself, alone in his cubicle, staring at his computer screen in a windowless office. The clock on the wall read 4:00. Another hour of drudgery sitting behind his desk, reading reports, verifying the information online, and trying to ignore loud comments from others about all the mistakes he was letting get through. Not only did he need a break from this tedium now; he needed a break tomorrow, and the next day and for the rest of his life.

In his mind he could see himself, relaxing in a comfortable chair, a glass of Jameson in his hand, gazing out from his porch at the snow-capped mountains in the distance, while giving orders through his headset to all the sub-managers working under him, making everything up as he went along, not having to deal with all of the crap his job entailed, and getting paid for it.

It was now 4:30. Wouldn’t it be more fun if he was his own manager? He was in command, instead of being ruled by those around him.

Again, Harry’s mind wandered. Thoughts of a mysterious benefactor who would take him away from all this monotony.  Harry imagined listening to the sweet sounds of nature around him. Feeling wanted by those he works with. Able to work from home, lots of flex time. That’s the life he wished and hoped for.

The time clock finally reaches 5:00, and his workday is done. Time to go home and wish some more.

Be careful, Harry, sometimes what you wish for does come true. But make sure you read the fine print.

Five weeks later…

Harry did have a benefactor. An unknown granduncle passed away and left Harry his entire animal farm, with just enough money so that Harry could quit his job, sell his house, and live on whatever he could make out of the farm. He chose to make it an animal sanctuary.

It’s now 4:30 a.m. Harry is awoken to the sounds of nature, that would be the roosters crowing and the chickens and guinea hens calling to be let out from their coops.

As he steps out onto the porch, a thermos of hot coffee in hand, he can see the mountains of hay and, not to mention, the piles of manure to be dealt with. Today is the day that not many volunteers show up to do the muck work, so he has to go out and do it himself. He finds himself going from pen to paddock attempting to get the pigs and horses to do his bidding, while he fills the water troughs, distributes the food, graciously donated by local food markets, brushes the animals down, and makes sure they are all healthy.

Yes, his animals love him for what he does; they must, for they never stop crowing, neighing, grunting, and howling.  The volunteers do help in doing some of the chores. Donations help sustain the farm, so he’s able to make do and survive.

And the day progresses. The clock may eventually reach 5:00 p.m., but there are no set hours on a farm; all time is both scheduled and flexible. It’s rise at dawn and stop when every chore is done, and the animals are put up for the night.

Harry sits on the porch at the end of the day, flask of Jameson in his hand, as his mind wanders. Wouldn’t it be nice to work in his own cubby all day for a set period of time, have weekends off, not have to think about what must be done, just stare at a computer screen making sure everyone else did things correctly?

One can only hope.

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The Choice

The Story Spark was Harvest Moon. The writing prompt I chose are the first two sentences of this piece. We had 25 minutes to write.

The Choice

The moonlit forest was alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. She ventured deeper, guided by a silver fox that seemed to know her destiny. She wasn’t scared, as one might be in the forest alone, guided by a single creature—one of those magical ones that often portend danger and destruction.

She had seen this silver fox before. It had been watching her for weeks outside her cabin as she did her daily chores.

In folk myth, it should have transformed into human form and tried to lure her to some destination where it would have her killed. However, this one did not bother to change its appearance. It just watched.

When it finally chose to speak, she heard its words in her head. “I seek your help.”

She looked deep into the silver fox’s eyes, deep into its soul. He was speaking the truth.

“What is it that I can help you with?”

Again, its words were heard: “I can only share that with you if you follow me into the forest.”

Should she go or not? She was a kind-hearted woman. She felt the fox’s desperate need. So she said, “Lead on.”

As they ventured deeper, the sounds of the other animals began to diminish. Soon they came to a small circle of rocks. Within that circle lay a silver fox kit. Its eyes were closed. Shallow breaths came from it.

The silver fox said, “My child shall die without sustenance. It needs to be fed.”

“What kind of food is necessary?” she said.

“That which only a human can provide,” it replied.

She thought about that. Does that mean I must give up my life to save this kit, or is there something else humans have that this kit needs? It didn’t make sense that she would have to give up her life. The aura surrounding that silver fox did not bode evil. What was needed? So that is what she asked, “What do I have that can save your kit? Is there a danger to me?”

“Danger is relative,” the fox replied. “Will you be eaten and die? That is a question I cannot answer. You have to decide how to save this kit. What it needs is love. More so than I can give it. But for you to give that of yourself, you need commitment. And that is what I ask for”

She thought about that for a while. Taking care of a silver fox kit requires time. Taking care of a silver fox kit means putting up with ridicule and avoidance from those who fear it, maybe even violence from non-believers.

As she looked upon this forlorn creature, its eyes slowly opened and gazed at her. This time, it was her soul being looked at.

She felt the kit’s emotions: the longing for love, the will to survive, its trust, and its commitment to her.

There was no need to think about it anymore. She stepped into the circle of rocks, picked up the kit, and hugged it to her chest. Her answer to the silver fox was yes.

 

 

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The Finding

The Story Spark was Write Something. The writing prompts I chose were: In the back of the closet and Alone in his room. We had 20 minutes to write.

The Finding

I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I had it just yesterday. I was trying to keep it hidden from everyone so I wouldn’t lose it. It must be in a very secretive place. 

I’ve looked everywhere I could think of. Down in the basement lockbox, up in the attic where I store all my old stuff. Even in the back of the closet, where I keep all the clothes I love and refuse to give up.

This was a bad case of doorway syndrome. You know, when you walk through a door to a room and forget why you went there. 

Where could I have left it? 

Finally, I decided to go into my private space, shut the door and the light, close my eyes, which really wasn’t necessary with the lights off, and let my mind wander. Which isn’t difficult for me, as my mind wanders frequently without any added stimulus.

I took a deep breath and let all thoughts dissipate. Fat chance that is ever going to happen. It didn’t take me long to focus on nothing.

And that is exactly when I found what I had been looking for — My sanity. 

In a world filled with conflict. In a world consumed by too much hate, in a world denying the reality of our need to save our planet, in the world’s relentless acceptance of lies and mis-truths, I needed to find some solace and hope that there was going to be a future, not an end. 

Darkness was a fitting place to expose all these feelings. Darkness encompassed where I was in this room. 

It was then that I noticed the light that began to show under the door frame and through the keyhole. 

I began to hear the voices of the ones I love, coming through from the outside. 

I got up, and as I opened the door to my room, not only did the light from the hallway fill my space, but sunlight through the panes of textured glass on the windows created rainbows of color on the floor I walked on. 

Opening the windows brought forth the sounds of nature calling out to me, “We are here. We are with you. We will not let this be our final days.”

My spirit awoke. Hope, though not assured, was present and guiding me to a better place. To a brighter future. 

 

Time is not up. This is not the end game. This will be what you and those like me will make of it. We can prevail. 

Sometimes, it is important to stop the world and your surroundings to get your bearings and move forward to a better place. That is what I found. 

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A Debate of Color

The Story Spark was “Color.” I chose the writing prompt “Two colors have an argument. Create their dialog.”

A Debate of Color

It was to be a simple debate. On one side, there was the color gray, and on the other side was the color yellow-green. The debate was on the meaning of life. 

Here is how the discussion went:

——-

 

Life is a mystery; it can be either black or white; there is no middle ground. Therefore, it is I who am supreme, for I combine them both.

 

You are wrong, for if you look beyond the spectrum of discord, there are a multitude of colors. Look at me; I can harmonize two.

 

That’s not harmony; that is indecision. That is blending that which cannot stand alone.

 

Yet with you there is no clear decision. You cannot decide on anything; therefore, you stand as a jumble of nothingness. Where is your power?

 

Power, who needs power? With my grayness, there is complete satisfaction: life is consistent. Neither white nor black decides. Grayness includes both.

 

But where is the creativity? Where is the panache?  Where is the spirit of progress and a future worth living in?

 

Grayness has a predictable future. It never changes. It may have some shades of difference, but having a future that is known is a comfort. We do not have to worry about disasters that might upset the realm of life. We have security.

 

Then you have no life. You have no way to improve. You have no chance to become something that you might be destined to be. Disasters do happen, but with each mistake, learning occurs. If it didn’t, we’d have no beauty. We’d have no joy. We’d have no home.

 

You are yellow-green. Does that mean that someday you might be a different color? What if it is not liked? One that is shunned by others. What will you do then?

 

I can’t answer that now, but without knowing, I can prepare myself for change. If it doesn’t work out, I will adapt. Create a new self so that I can exist with others. What about you? If everything is so clear – black, white, gray. What happens when one day a new color appears? You will be unprepared for it, having never practiced learning to be different.

——-

 

The moderator called time. The audience, made up of many different colors, was asked to vote on who won the debate. 

Who do you think won?

 

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Eggs in a Basket

The story spark was  Familiar Folk Sayings. You should be able to figure out which one I took.

Eggs in a Basket

“Hey, idiot! Do you see all my fine hens laying their eggs in the same basket? Do you think collecting them in a single basket is a wise choice? screamed a rather outspoken rooster. “After all, you only sell those eggs in single containers?” 

All Henry was trying to do was collect the eggs he needed from all the hens in the coop to sell at the farmer’s market on Sunday. It was unusual for the rooster to hang around crowing at the top of his lungs, what sounded like “Cock-a-doodle-dipshit”.

“And furthermore,” the rooster continued, “What about my progeny? Have you checked to see if any of those eggs contain the seeds of my chicks?”

Again, all Henry heard was “Cock-a-doodle-with chicks.” He stared at the rooster.

The rooster just stared right back at Henry. “That’s right, I’m talking to you.”

Henry heard, “Cock-a-doodle-to you” 

So Henry decided to crow back at the rooster, “Cock-a-doodle-do.” which were the only words in rooster he knew. 

The rooster tilted its head and glared at Henry. Imagine being called a horny domestic fowl, which was the translation of what Henry had said to the rooster. 

The rooster was getting well beyond being annoyed.

Henry needed a Rooster-to-English translator so they could understand each other better. But there was none.

Well, if a human can’t even listen to a simple suggestion, then it was time to take control of the situation under his own wing. 

The rooster flew straight at Henry, screaming, “Try holding onto that basket while I peck your brains out!”

Of course, Henry only heard, “ROCK YOUR DOODLE DO!” He dropped the basket and ran back into the house. The basket, however, did not land gently, and all of the eggs Henry had already collected broke, leaving a big mess. And that’s no yolk.

From that day on, Henry was very careful when collecting his eggs. He stayed clear of the rooster whenever possible and made sure he collected eggs one carton at a time.

For, as most of us who understand rooster-talk know. You should never put all your eggs in one basket.

 

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A Sense of Discovery

The writing prompt was the word Discover.

A Sense of Discovery

 

As you discover the world around you

Let what comforts you be your guide

 

Discover with your ears – and listen

Sounds of a gentle rain

The music of a chirping bird calling out, “I’m here.”

Gentle breathing of a loved one sleeping at your side

Sounds of silence and calm in where noise abounds 

 

Discover with your eyes and see

Sunrises, sunsets, the colors of a rainbow

A night sky filled with unlimited stars

The flight of a butterfly going from flower to flower

Smiles on the faces of those you admire and love

 

Discover the smells; use your eyes too

Freshly baked bread

Sweetness of flowers in bloom

The misty morning dew

The fresh air of a country walk

 

Discover the tastes; savor the flavor

Seasoned delicacies that feed your hunger

The first lick of an ice cream cone in summer

Sweet ripe fruit, as its juice glides over your tongue

A refreshing drink that quenches your thirst

 

Discover the touches; feel what’s there

A hug, an embrace, a pat on the back

Holding hands with those you love

Cool wind on a hot summer day.

Tears of joy

 

Discover what’s in your heart

Let it beat for yourself and others

Be nourished as it flows within

Love, compassion, empathy, gratitude

Let it demonstrate that you care

 

Discover your mind with thoughts that guide you

Creative thoughts that expand

Awareness of all and the strength to believe in what’s right

The hope of a better world

The power to change it

 

And then let the world

Discover you

 

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It Started With a Sound

The Story Spark was Simply Put. I chose the writing prompt – In the attic

It Started With a Sound

You live in a house for thirty years. You would think there is nothing new you can find. Old things to find are a certainty. Unopened boxes are still in the basement from when we moved here. Boxes with wall hangings, books, dishes, some with no labels on them at all. If you didn’t need what was in them, then why bother opening them? Which is why they are still boxed. 

Things are stored in the basement because when you move in, especially with an attached garage, that is the first place you dump things.

Our house has an attic also. As far as I know, we have never put anything in the attic. That changed the day that I heard noises above me that I surmised were either from my roof or attic.

I went outside to see if anyone or anything was on my roof. It looked normal to me. My next step was to check the attic. 

The noises had stopped, but my curiosity had not. 

I found the release hatch and released the wooden stairs that led into the attic. I made sure I had a flashlight and a hammer with me to protect myself. As I slowly climbed up the ladder, I sensed that things were being moved. I reached the opening to the attic and cautiously fanned my flashlight around, trying to spot the perpetrator. I saw nothing. 

 Feeling more secure that there was no one there, I stepped further into the attic and examined the surroundings. 

The floor was covered with ancient dust. In the far corner, I saw a large box. It had some markings on it that I couldn’t quite understand. There was a definite pattern in the dust from one wall to where the box stood. Someone, or something, had moved it. 

Now I was a bit more concerned. I felt a cold wind blowing down my neck. Turning around quickly, I saw nothing, so I continued to the box. 

Underneath the strange markings I had seen, there was another piece of writing. It was in English. It read, in all caps, DO NOT OPEN UNTIL,” followed by that day’s date. 

What would you do in that situation?

Curiosity got the best of me. I took out my penknife and carefully cut through the cords that bound the box shut. As I opened the box slowly, holding my hammer at the ready, a green light began to fill the room. I took a step back as a small disk-shaped object floated up out of the box. 

It floated towards me, it floated around me, and it floated above and below me. 

It again floated right in front of my face. Calling me by name, it said, “Thank you. We are now free. Our time in captivity has been reached. We are now allowed to help you in your troubled life, in your troubled world, and in your troubled future.”

I didn’t know what to say.

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Time Capsule

This writing prompt was based on pictures we were offered and chose. The pictures I chose (I chose three of them) are the ones in this piece (I adapted the first one).

Time Capsule

I planned on creating a time capsule. I gathered pictures of my family, animals, some places I had been to, and some memorable items, such as my marching kazoo, some pieces of writing I had done, and as many obsolete Apple products as I still had that I hadn’t gotten rid of yet. Finally, I added a letter describing who I was,  including a picture of myself. 

I found a secluded spot in my backyard and began digging a hole in which to bury my time capsule. I hadn’t dug very far when my shovel hit something hard. I dug around the object until I could pull it out. It

 was a smooth cylinder. It was made of a hard material, nothing that I had ever come across before. When I shook it, I could hear something inside. I had no idea how to get to it. 

As I rotated the cylinder, I noticed a small hole on the top of it, spiraling open a couple of millimeters and then closing, like an iris. It repeated doing this. I looked into the hole when I could, hoping 

to see something inside. That’s when a flash of multicolored light targeted my eye, I heard a click, and the cylinder opened up. What happened next was a total surprise.

Inside, there were three pictures. The first one I saw was a picture of a ground squirrel named Peanut and his family. In small pinkish letters, it read, “Press this thought bubble for sound.” That’s exactly what I did. 

Immediately, the picture started talking to me.

“Hello Harvey, my name is Peanut. My family and I wanted to let you know we dug up your time capsule and enjoyed it. You must have had a lot of free time. In return, I thought it would be a fair exchange to send you one of our time capsules from the 22nd century. We placed it in the exact place that you are about to bury yours, so please remember to complete that task when our time is up.”

As you can guess from the picture, humans are no longer in charge of this planet. The animals finally had enough of humans messing up the planet, getting lazy, and worst of all, creating an AI universe. We ground squirrels work in technology and history and represent the animals that run things.

As the 21st century progressed from when you find this capsule, animals became more sentient and aware of the horrible things that the human population was doing to destroy themselves, us, and everything that could sustain life. We chose to address the problem.

Please take out picture number 2, and we will continue our story.”

The picture shared showed colorful shadows of people of different ages and genders, wandering around in a psychedelically colored environment, including one tree and a swirling colored sky and ground. 

The voice continued, “Here is where the remaining humans on this planet exist. It is a land of dreams and expectations. They are fed well and kept healthy. There are no wars of right vs. wrong, no economic differences of rich vs. poor, no gender inequality,  no political power struggles; we control it all. Think of it as a Safe House of a sort. They are well provided for. They can live however they like, alone or together. They are kept content. Unfortunately, providing them all this did not take care of the AI rulers that controlled everything in the late 21st century. 

You need to pull out the last picture for what happened to them.”

In the last picture, as you can see, there is something wrong.

The voice continued, “We animals got together and learned how to program all the AI devices and reprogrammed them. We now use AI for entertainment purposes only. AI can do nothing right on their own, and if it does, it is totally accidental, from their point of view, which they quickly forget. In that way, they benefit us. 

The animal and plant kingdoms have learned to co-exist for our mutual survival and managed, with the help of Mother Nature, who certainly supported all our work, to reverse most of the damage caused by the people of your generation. We still have some things left to do. We’re not perfect.”

———

Not that I thought that these ground squirrels could hear me, I said, “What can we do to stop this from happening? How can we all survive and live in a happy world together without having to wait till the next century?”

Apparently, they could hear me, for they responded. “It is possible, but it will require work on your part, which is why we sent you this time capsule. All you have to do is ….” 

At this point, the cylinder in my hand shimmered and then dissolved into thin air. All that I was left with were the three pictures and a lot to think about. (Note that the picture of the ground squirrels no longer had the press me note on it.)  

The last thing I did was to bury my time capsule.

 

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