Kids Story

Once there was a little boy named Jack. He loved to explore his backyard. He would climb up the ladder of his fort and peak through the watch hole. Sometimes he would see pirates sailing across a wide ocean. Sometimes he would see explorers discovering a pyramid in the middle of a desert. Other times, he would find a huge T-Rex stomping through a tropical jungle. Jack looked through his watch hole today and only saw his backyard. He saw his dog sniffing around the grass. He saw a bird digging for a worm in the dirt. He saw his little brother in the sandbox shoveling sand into a bucket.

He looked up at the clouds and sighed. An airplane rumbled across the blue sky and disappear behind the white puffs. He looked down at the yard again. To his surprise, he saw something move. Some strange creature no larger than a cat. But it wasn't a cat. He watched through the watch hole to get a closer look. He saw the creature scurry down the yard toward Jack's brother.

"Hey!" Jack yelled. "Stay away from my brother!"

The creature looked up in alarm and disappeared under the earth. Jack hurried down the ladder and ran across the lawn to the sandbox.

"Are you okay, Bradley?" Jack asked. Bradley was only two.

Without looking up from his sandcastle, he responded "yeah".

Jack examined the sandbox. "Hey!" Bradley yelled as Jack dug under the sand.

"I'm just checking to make sure you're safe." Jack said. "Did you see anything go under the sand?"

"No. Do you want to help me build this sand tower? It has to be built before the army comes to destroy it!" Bradley said pointing to the army men toys lined up along the sandbox.

"I have a better idea," Jack said. "Why don't you help me find a creature? It's a magical creature that disappears and scurries around like a squirrel but isn't a squirrel. It's like nothing you've ever seen!"

"Ok," Bradley said.

Jack and Bradley started their search around the sandbox where Jack had last seen the creature. They searched all around. They searched and they searched. But found nothing. Not even a hole where the creature could have hidden in. Soon, Bradley got bored and went back to his army men and tower of sand. But, Jack didn't give up. He searched around the slide and the swing. He searched under the wagon and in the climbing tree. He still couldn't find it anywhere.

Jack sat down in the grass and started to pluck blades from the earth. He pressed a blade of grass between his hands and blew. A whistle sounded loudly in the air.

"Well, come on then!" Someone said behind Jack.

Jack jumped in surprise. He turned around and before his very eyes was the creature! It had grey fur and eyes the color of the grass he sat on. It stood on all fours but his front legs were shorter than it's hind ones. It had a short, puffy tail like a rabbit and whiskers like a mouse. A little straw hat rested on his head with a long feather poking out. A long red scarf was wrapped around his neck several times. Jack stood agog staring at the creature.

"What- Who-" Jack began several sentences but didn't know how to ask the question. He didn't want to offend the creature. "Excuse me, sir, " He started. "Who are you?" He shuffled toward the creature. "Please?" He added for good measure.

"Oswald, at your service." The creature tipped his hat. "I'm the summoner here in these parts. Now when you's go on a whistling like that. Well, I just can't ignore it. Summoners can't never ignore it. But, I got lots of deliveries to be doing so best be on our ways."

Jack looked at Oswald. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to summon you. I've whistled with blades of grass loads of times. And so have my friends. Why haven't I seen you before?"

W.E. 04/04/11

"What I really need is someone to push me. I wish I had a personal trainer who could push me really hard because I know I can do better."

No way. I've always wanted to be a personal trainer!

"I can do it," I say to Lucy casually. "I can start training you."

Lucy eyes me up. "You can train me?" she asks. "Do you even work out?"

Ouch. "Of course I do," I say a little defensively. "I train three to five times a week, moving between cardio and strength training for sixty minutes." Ok, that's kind of a lie. But, I know that's what you're supposed to do.

She agreed, yes! We start training tomorrow morning at 7:00am because I suggested Lucy start the day on the right foot. How else will she meet her goal? Now, I just need to pop over to the shops and get some gear.

Gosh, I never realized how much workout equipment there was! There are tons of really intimidating machines called things like the Boflex and Matrix then there are bikes, treadmills, ellipticals, step machines, and some weird thing that looks like two skis sliding on plastic slopes. Lined neatly on racks according to size and color are the free weights. I pick up a ten pound weight and start to flex my arm toward my chest. Wow, this really hurts and I've only done it five times. Maybe I should try the five pounds? Yes, that's much better. I've already done ten reps. I grab a set of five pound weights and put them in my buggy. I'm already feeling lighter and more fit. This will be a synch.

My alarm goes off at 6:15am and I crawl out of bed. I hate waking up when it's still dark out, and the bedroom is freezing. I shiver and pop into the shower. I could stay under the hot water for hours. When I was in high school, I had to get up at 5:30am every morning. I remember sitting on the shower floor and just let the water fall on me. I even fell asleep a few times and my mom would bang on the bathroom door yelling something about money and trees. Now, I had no one banging on my bathroom door. Henry was fast asleep and wouldn't be waking up for another two hours. I slide down the shower wall and close my eyes. A few minutes go by. Why did I agree to wake up so early? I pry my eyes open. That's right! I'm a personal trainer. I am very fit and active. I, Anna Brody, am a tough, high-energy, motivating personal fitness trainer!

At 7:05, I pull into Lucy's drive. It took me a little longer than I thought to pull my hair back in a headband and ponytail. It's difficult to make bangs look cute when working out. Lucy looks so cute, though. She's wearing a black sports bra with purple and pink stripes and black leggings with purple piping. Even her tennis shoes match with the same pink stripes. Her blonde hair is french braided, why didn't I think of that?, then tucked under the nape of her neck. It looks more like an up-do than a sporty french braid. Lucy's eyes are bright and she starts jogging in place.

"Ready for a few warm up miles, trainer?"

"Sure," I croak, "I'm ready." Did she say a few miles and warm-up in the same sentence?

I'm dying. I really 100% feel like I am going to die. My legs are aching and I'm having trouble breathing. Sweat is running down my face and my Adidas tee is sticking to my back. I look over at Lucy and she has one single drip of sweat beading up near her temple. Her hair is still perfect.

"I think this might be enough, Lu," I say and trot to a holt.

Lucy looks at her watch. "But, we've only gone a half mile."

What?! Oh God. "Well, I'm quite warm. Aren't you?"

Lucy starts but I cut her off, "As your trainer, I feel it's necessary to boot up your metabolism with a variety of exercises. I have a lot planned and I want to start engaging your core so that you can build muscle and burn carbs throughout the day." Engaging your core is by far the phrase used most in exercise magazines.

Last night I bought Self, Oxygen, Women's Health, and Shape. I cut out the "Flat Belly in 10 Days" plans and the "Shed Five Pounds in Five Days" exercises. They looked pretty simple. Squat here, lift there, roll on the big ball and hold it for a few seconds. I pasted all of the various workouts on a large poster board and numbered them. There are about twenty different exercises so I figured we could run through them two or three times and Lucy will be spent by the end. And I'll be a genius! A personal training genius! And all the magazines say that if you do the exercises three days a week, you will see results within five days! I'll be such a star, Lucy will recommend me to everyone she knows!

We walk back to the house and I pull out my chart pointing to various places and explaining which part of the body the exercise targets.

"Take for example, this one." I point to the girl squatting down with her back against the wall, "This exercise works the buttocks and thighs while engaging your core."

Lucy nods enthusiastically. "And look at her thighs! I'd die to have my legs that toned." She says.

I look down at the picture. She's right. I'd die to have the girl's slender legs too and they're so tan that it looks like she lives on the beach. I've always secretly wanted to be a surfer so I could have gorgeous tanned and muscular legs like Kate Bosworth in Blue Crush. Maybe we should have gone surfing instead? That would be so rad, carrying surfboards onto a Hawaiian beach and everyone looking at you like you're a pro. Ugh, I wish I were in Hawaii right now.

"I don't know though, Anna. It looks pretty intense," Lucy says wiping her brow.

"Not at all! Let me show you." I move over to the wall and press my back up against it. I squat down and shrug. "See, it's easy and it's very effective. Now you just have to stay here for two minutes." I adjust my weight and ask Lucy to time me.

"How much longer?" I squeal.

"Another minute and a half, I'm afraid."

I look at her gobsmacked. I've only been squatting for thirty seconds? Thirty! Seconds! I can't take it. My thighs are burning so bad that they've started to shake and, to be honest, I'm starting to feel a little faint. Did I eat anything this morning?

"Well, you've got the point. Right?" I say slowly unhinging my knees. "Easy as pie."

Lucy presses her back to the wall and bends her knees. I hit the stopwatch and root her on.

"Brilliant, you're doing very well. Keep it up," I say enthusiastically. Finally, the watch hits one minute. Lucy's legs are starting to shake and she's resting her hands on her thighs. She bends forward.

"How much longer? I can't take much more," she says.

"You're done! You did great." Well, I think a minute and ten seconds is pretty great. "Let's go on to the plank pose."

We check the poster board picture and I instruct Lucy to lay on the floor.

"Ok, now up!" I say and Lucy tries to raise her hips off the floor.

"I can't!" she says frantically.

"Just lift!" I raise my arms in the air. I watch Lucy struggle to lift her behind in the air. She gets it an inch off the ground then collapses. "What's the problem?"

"Ha!" she huffs. "If you think it's so easy, why don't you try it? Miss Personal Trainer."

Well, alright. If she's going to be snooty about it. Oh God. This is hard. I just can't seem to lift my stomach off the ground more than an inch. I'm pushing my brows together tightly and willing myself to do it. It's like when someone has their arm bitten off by a shark and they have all that adrenaline and determination to swim five miles back to shore. If someone can swim five miles with an arm bitten off, surely I can will my bottom to rise off the ground a few inches.

"Huh ha!" I say as I'm finally able to lift myself off the floor and stay in the plank pose. "See, Lucy. Simple." I look up to find Lucy storming out of the room. So, maybe personal training your best friend isn't the greatest idea in the world. But, as I hold my body in the plank pose and stare down at the carpeted floor, sweat dripping down my face from effort, a smile spreads across my face. Take that, Lucy!

W.E.

She always did this thing, this clicking thing with her mouth. I could never figure out how she did it, but it was so annoying. It would always happen when she was deep in thought, times when we were both working real hard to get the job done. I would be sitting there folding cloth napkins and all of the sudden hear it from across the room.

UK

The snow fell sporadically as Sarah Ring stepped out of her home onto Primrose Path. She made her way down the lightly powdered path heading north toward Davenport. As most winters came, the air was dry and bitter leaving all of Essex to their crackling fires and boiling kettles.
Sarah, for one, was apt to explore during these times- by no means using cold weather as an excuse for neglecting fresh air. No. Young Sarah felt fresh air was exactly what she needed during the tiresome winter months, especially when Andrew Payton occupied her family's estate. He was an arrogant boy of nineteen who felt it his duty to inform Sarah just how unladylike she was.
"Milk in your tea, Ms. Sarah," he had asked her this morning.
"Oh yes," she replied, "and two lumps of sugar as well."
"Have you no self-control?"
"On the contrary," Sarah said. "I have reduced my intake by thrice."

Looking back on that moment, Sarah recalled Mr. Payton smirking. She couldn't understand why he would smirk at the amount of sugar she took in her tea. Why on earth with that be humorous? Sarah did think herself a clever girl however, not so clever as to understand this particular smirk. Sarah shuffled her way to Ms. Annabelle Scott's cottage whilst contemplating this mystery.

"He is a rather odd boy, wouldn't you say?"

Annabelle bounced William on her knee. He gurgled softly, his large rolls jiggling with every bounce.

"I believe Mr. Payton to be a fine young man. You must tend to your manners, Sarah. Father would disapprove of your negative thoughts toward your guest."

Sarah grunted and turned her attention to William, who was now had developed hiccups. She pulled on his pudgy finger and allowed him to grab her hand.

"May I hold William?" Sarah asked holding her hands out for him.

"Please. I must get the stew started for supper. Just make sure you keep bouncing him." Annabelle placed the baby on Sarah's lap. He felt very heavy on her skinny legs and she had trouble balancing him. After adjusting him a few times, she finally resorted to bouncing him on both legs which faired to be far more extraneous than she would have cared for.

09/02

Once there was a girl who caught lightening in her pocket.
She would reach deep inside, pull one out, and stuff it in her mouth, crunching hard and long. She would then swallow it with a gulp and reach in her pocket for another.
When she was angry, every hair on her head would stick on end. When she was happy, her teeth would glow a silvery white along with her fingertips and toenails.
The girl was a rather odd creature. She would wander the streets chewing contently on her webbed lightening bolts. No one knew where she had come from or where she presently lived.
In fact, they all knew very little about her.

08/21

That's life.
That's just how life be sometimes. Sometimes things happen that be out of your hands, whether you like it or not.
That how it be for me and that'd be why I'm here, sitting in jail as innocent as a baby with no one standing by me and telling them they're wrong.
Why?
Cause they all dead.
I know it don't sound good on my part. But if I tell you I ain't lying then I ain't.

Dark exercise

She couldn't believe life turned out this way for her. Everything had been planned out. She had so many dreams, so many aspirations in the beginning. She could conquer the world. If she couldn't conquer the world, at least she'd look good trying. That was her hope. That was the hope of her parents. And when it was time to go, when push came to shove, somehow she got pushed. She got pushed completely out of the picture.
It's like the lights had been turned off in her bedroom, and the door had been shut. She knew where everything was and where it all went but she couldn't see it to put it all back together. She could never get to the door. She got lost in the room and the longer it took her to find the knob, the more she forgot where everything went.
"You're made to do something great, " she heard them say.
She sat in the darkness, hands buried in her face.
"I can't get out," she cried.

Numbers exercise

And there were seven in all standing tall around the burning remnants if what once was.
The first of which was Nebuzar, King of Babybine, known for his fierce tongue and ruthless swing of the club. He was a burly man with wild curly black hair, a long braided beard, and yellow eyes that burned unnaturally. The club he held was blood-stained and worn from battle. There were teeth marks imprinted on the end. The club itself was four feet long and was made of a solid wood weighing one hundred pounds, only a tenth of Nebuzar himself.

Between the Lines Scene, Alishir in lab

He reached for the chart but she snatched it from the desktop. Then, with a deceptive smile, handed it to him. Ali took off his gold-rimmed glasses and wiped his forehead with an old white hankerchief his dad had given him on his twentieth birthday.
"Can you tell me the specs, please," Alishir said as beads of sweat trickled down his temples. He gripped the scalpel tightly as she read off each spec with anger and spite oozing from her voice. Alishir looked around the room at his colleagues with a weak smile. He never should have gotten involved with her.

Brainstorming

"Reveal yourselves," he bellowed.
He said the words with such authority and power that my body shook from his voice. Slowly, and quite gruesomely, the various creatures slid from their forms into completely different things. Objects, actions, thoughts.
The room eventually became a nightmare, my nightmare, of everything I wished I had never done. It was everything I wished I never said or thought. The room was full of my ghosts, the ones I had made. The ones that have haunted me all my life and will continue to do so until the day I die.
I felt so ashamed, so embarrassed that he was seeing all of these things. I buried my face in my hands. I slowly found my way to the wall and slid down, rocking myself in a fetal position.
"Please, please make them go away," I begged.

Freewriting

There is a prophecy from long ago written on scribes, lost in the collapsing of a castle. The prophecy was intended for the king's newborn son to which a very powerful and spiritual man was summoned to give.
On the birthday of the king's first and only son, the prophet was issued the job.
He was shuffled into the birthing room where the queen lay with her son wrapped in blankets of fine silk and linen. The sound of the old prophet's voice echoed through the halls as words began spilling from his mouth. This began before he even saw the child. It was recorded for history's sake:
Lay he, the King of the Forest
He is as gentle as a dove
Powerful as a roaring lion is he
His days are that of the setting sun
The people will not know him
He will be neighbor to none
Wandering the lands he will have but seven
There will be no crown upon his head
He comes from the line of the king
A poor boy far beyond
He will live among the small

And the small will love him as their own.

Secrets of an Eligible Rooker, part II (unedited, unfinished) describing Bonnet Bellows and Old Hickery Snook

"Sir, I'd quite enjoy tagging along if you'd allow, sir." Brumble jogged slowly to keep up with the hurried Till Knobbin.
"Don't be nonsensical, Mr. Brumble. It is completely out of the question."
"Oh, but I'd very much like it, sir," Brumble said. He bumped straight into a small wooden table. A vase tumbled off and crashed to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.
Till sighed loudly with his back still to Brumble. Brumble bent down to pick up a large piece of broken glass.
"Leave it," Till said sternly. "Just leave it."
Brumble's large lower lip turned to a pout and began to quiver. He put the piece of glass back on the floor.
"Let me alone, Mr. Brumble. I have many a thing to accomplish before my journey. I don't need no one meddling with my things."
Brumble nodded, his lower lip sinking even lower to his chin.
"Goodbye, sir, " Brumble whispered. "Safe journey." And with that, Brumble closed the door of Till Knobbin's workshop and would not see his dear friend again for quite some time.
******************************************
The next day, bright and early, when the sun lay it's pink blanket across all of Knobb Hill, Till rose with hope for adventure in his heart. He started the day off quite leisurely with a two hour breakfast consisting of seven courses, and a rather lazy stroll through his garden. The honeysuckles were blooming and the rosebushes' fragrance caught the light morning breeze sending it straight to Till's head which made him feel light and giddy. He swam with delight among the sweet aroma. Till hardly even noticed the time, he was enjoying himself so much. But as the sun rose to it's peak, the bumbles buzzed anxiously from petal to petal and even around Till's ears. He could hear them whispering a friendly warning.
"Must beeee on your way, sir. The day is late. You have far to go." They buzzed busily around him. "Mustn't beeee late."
Till hurried up the path to his back door, grabbed his sack, closed all his windows, and locked his front door behind him.
As he packed up his horse, many Knobbins passed his large barn door and bade him farewell.
"Good luck to you, sir," The Hornscotch Family said handing him three days' worth of black currants jam.
"We'll be missing you," chimed Old Farmer Petterfood, grabbing Till's hand and shaking it furiously.
A crowd of citizens stuck close around Till and his horse. Before he knew it, Till had a mound of farewell gifts strapped on the back of his horse.
"Has anyone see Mr. Brumble?"
"Aye," said Henry Hornscotch. "Catch him meddling with me horns early this morn. I reckon he be on his way to gather the bonnet bellows by now. Nasty job, that tis. Why, I don't wish it upon no one, that I don't. Not even me enemies."
Till nodded, quite disappointed in fact that he would not be saying farewell to his best friend. Till furrowed his brow. "Well, if that's how he's going to be," Till mumbled under his breathe. He mounted his horse and pulled the reins, bidding all farewell behind him.
This time of year, Clearywood was an active place. The leavs were changing from a green to a gold and all the citizens were preparing for the Harvest events. All of the produce in the fields were maturing, growing overly plump and juicy and ready to be plucked. During this season, everyone had a job, whether it be harvesting the crops or preparing dishes after.
As Till passed the field, he waved to the workers and gave a friendly holler. Till strolled along, wagon behind him and dirt kicking up around the horse's hooves. The autumn breeze danced around Till's face. He wrapped his long scarf tighter to his neck.
A kind worker met Till on the side of the road with a warm cup of appling drink to give. Till graciously accepted and continued on his way. Now, with the appling mug warming his chilled fingers.
The sun was beginning to descend in the sky, leaving all of Clearywood covered in a blanket of gold. The road became a little more reckless and the edges a little more wild. Up ahead was inevitably the line of the Clearywood bounds and a very rotten man indeed.
Hickery Snook never asked to be a grumpy old man, neither were his intentions. It was just that he got teased so much. It's not to blame the young folk for teasing him, it was rather easy. The old man Hickery just got so angry, though they knew could do no harm, not even to a bonnet bellow and therefore circumstances were perfect.
In fact, Till Knobbin and Mr. Barnebee Brumble were the guiltiest among the other young citizens of Clearywood for creating such a horribly grumpy man.
It started one bright summer day when Barnebee Brumble tended to the bonnet bellows in the Knobbin's garden. He always seemed to have a nack for taming the wild creatures. It very well have been only that he had the patience and compassion to try. I must tell you, not many people, Knobbin or not, enjoyed the company of a bonnet bellow.
They were of a pesty bunch that, though rather cute to observe, were vicious creatures. It may even be they whom the phrase is named from, "give them an inch and they take a yard". That is more or less what happened where bonnet bellows were involved. The bonnet bellows first begin as one very small, fury, blue worm measuring about an inch in length which sit upon a flower petal singing a short, yet repetitive tune.
The problem with this little worm is he will continue to sing, and how the little thing's voice does carry!, until you feed him a drop of honey. However, once you feed him the honey, the little worm splits in two. And both bonnet bellows then begin to sing, in harmony if you are lucky, a song with no beginning or end. Most folks cannot stand to hear the song and therefore feed the worm for just a few minutes of silence. They get caught in the cycle of feeding and the splitting of the worms which very rapidly becomes feet, yards, and miles of bonnet bellows sitting upon flower petals singing a song with no beginning or end.

Secrets of an Eligible Rooker, part I (unedited, unfinished)

Some might say living in a hole sounds simply dreadful, but have you ever tried it? The amount of space that can be dug under the ground of various plant-life is quite remarkable and there is a sense of security unlike that of any other world. Naturally, it is fairly dark however, there have been clever ways invented which brings light into the home on account not everyone in particular enjoys the idea of living in a hole. Some have windows on the top of their homes, though those homes are usually full of uneducated Rookers, as our citizens are named, or new homeowners due to the fact that it is a challenge to open and close the windows from such heights and is quite frowned upon. Other Rookers line windows on the front of their homes near the door, the part peaking out of the earth, as to let light through.
Every hole is equipped with one window in the rear of the home in the master suite as for an emergency, incase of a fire or such. It would not be very smart to have only one way out of your home, now would it? However, everyone can agree that the best part of Hillsburry Hollow is not the practicality of underground living, rather what is to be seen out the window of every home every day.
In the morning the sun rises at the most convenient time whereas everyone has had a plentiful night's sleep and there is no reason to stay in bed any longer. The sun, as with the citizens of Hillsburry Hollow, take their time rubbing the sleep out of their wide eyes while slipping into their fur slippers and tying the belt of their wool robes. As the windows of each home are opened slightly because it never rains, humming birds and sparrows sing their morning song at the threshold of the window each morning. Some, mostly older folk, will lie still in their bed a moment or two gazing at the sun's purple glow to appreciate it's brilliant color.
At first, it is difficult not to glance at the sun as it rises in the periwinkle blue sky as this is the only time of day in which clouds are present. White puffs of cotton sprinkled with shades of coral red, plum purples, and fiery orange hug the dully lit morning sun, dully lit because it is much more pleasurable waking up to a dimmed sun, wouldn't you say?
Of course, the sun does not stay dull all day but only for the first hour at which time all the citizens of Hillsbury Hollow brew their strong cups of rosebud and hibiscus tea, crack open their hard boiled eggs, and rock in their hammock chairs woven with thin silky straw and lavender releasing the most relaxing aroma. And when the sun hits the center of the horizon, the clouds evaporate quickly leaving bright rays of sunlight to splurge from the sky, through the peep-hole's front door, and into the homes of each Rooker. The sun's rays dance across the wooden-covered dirt floors of each house-hole opening the door of every house on Hillsburry Hollow. All eligible citizens step outside, in their bare feet of course, onto the grass at which time they participate in the morning's exercise. Not one blade of grass is browned with death or age and is soft and cool with refreshment. Once the Eligibles, as this particular group of Rookers are called, have completed their morning's exercise, they stretch in various ways (touching the toes and such), and head down the pebble stone road to the Patch for work.
Every morning and every day is the same beautiful day as the next. All the citizens of Hillsburry Hallow are pleasant and grateful for the paradise they live in and all is pleasant and well. Yet with such a carefree life as these fine little Rookers have, an inperfection is bound to be missed a time or two. And as we examine the Hillsburry Hollow very careful we may find the start of something new.
Outside a rather smaller house-hole near the edge of the Hollow, one single blade of grass began to show a hint of a rusted color. It may have been red, perhaps a brown. The unfortunate truth is that no Rooker had ever seen death as everything in Hillsburry Hollow just floated away when it's time had come. In fact, that was the very color of this blade of grass. The color of death. No one in the cheerful Hollow could point out this small detail of their town, on account they had never seen Death and therefore could not recognize it. Perhaps, if they did there would be no story to tell. Nevertheless, this blade of grass is where our story begins.
The blade of grass sat at the very edge of the large and neglected garden of one Professor William Puff. Professor Puff was in fact of Eligible age. The celebration of his achievements had just occurred not two days prior and Puff was already beginning to rebel against the rules of the Patch, let alone the land. But, Professor Puff did not care. He did not care that his family, for many generations, had been successful and reliable (some garden profession) ever since Rookers came into existence.
Not only did the Puff Family excel in their profession, but they were also know for giving the grandest celebrations in most all Hillsbury Hollow and Professor William's graduation celebration was no acception.
The celebration preparations began five months prior to the date of graduation. Most all Eligible Rookers, whether a friend or not of William's, and Elders and even some other creatures of the Forest Kingdom were welcome to attend the festivities. The invitations were personalized tunes sung by a quartet of musical Rookers who sang the information to each guest in a four-part harmony. Of course, this was not the most convenient way to invite a guest to a party five months in advance on the account that most people, especially the Elders, began forgetting the details of the occasion. Therefore, a homemade berry pie was delivered to each guest, warm and gooey out of the oven, with a quaint note attached, handwritten of course, as to the details of the celebration of the Puff's first of fifteen sons to be graduated as an Eligible. The guests and warm berry pies were one-thousand-eight-hundred-and-ninety-four in number, as two pies were dropped by William Puff's four-year-old brother, Powder, on the way to the home of one Harold Armepitt on the other side of town and yet another on account that Powder was crying so hard from dropping the first two pies that he didn't see a big old rock in front of him, tripped, and dropped the third. A Miss Thorne Innerside sent her pie back to the Puff Home as Mrs. Puff neglected to recall Miss Thorne was allergic to berries. A warm caramel and apple spice cobbler was immediately sent back to Miss Thorne with a thousand apologizes by Mrs. Puff herself.
The invitations were just the beginning of the preparations for the proud Puff's celebration of their first of fifteen sons to graduate as an Eligible Rooker. Foods from the far Eastland made of ancient spices were crated in on large gray elephants. Cakes from Westside were shipped on the backs of sea urchins and picked up the Bird Herd to be carried deep in the heart of Hillsburry Hollow. Toys made by Elvins mysteriously appeared at the doorstep of the Puff Home in small yellow boxes, though misleading as when you opened them many a creature full of enchantment flowed happily out of the boxes. Streams and streams of merry things came pouring into the home of Puff for the happy occasion of Professor William to celebrate his ultimate achievement and beginning of contributing to the society of Eligible Rookers.
On the morning of this glorious occasion, William was found rocking on his hammock with a long wood-carved pipe hanging out of his mouth. Every few moments, William would take a long suck of tobacco then remove the pipe from his mouth and making an "O" shape with his lips, release rings of smoke then with the roll of his tongue a puffball of smoke would roll it's way into the ring. William found amusement in this little game for the first half of the morning though many a time he could hear in the distance his mother calling his name. He sunk even deeper into his hammock, one arm behind his head, and drifted off into a naïve and fearless dream.
Outside the Puff's house-hole, the hustle and bustle of party preparations were in full force. The large white silk tent had been assembled by the Bird Herd whom, though had taken direction very well, were actually beginning to get annoyed with the precision in which Mrs. Puff wanted all of the decorations. She had instructed them several times to make the point at the roof of the tent higher, then lower, then the ropes to hold up the tent were not taut enough. The ribbons at each corner of the tent were to be 20 diameters in size and exactly 8 feet from the bottom of the tent, no wait-- 5 feet. Then again, 8 looks much better. Yes, 8 feet. The birds fluttered about in a bobbing motion with each instruction Mrs. Puff gave. They were very much dreading the upcoming years of working with Mrs. Puff for her other children, William was the first of fifteen! The poor Bird Herd was already feeling a dull ache in their head at the thought.
The Brewer family was wheeling in the barrels of lager and a variety of berry cordials from the other side of town. The baker and his ten anxious assistants walked very slowly across the Willow Field while balancing an over-sized, twenty-tiered cake between them and yelling at anyone who came within five feet of where they were headed. The trip from the cart across the field to the party tent was 50 yards and as the Baker slid the cake onto the large dining table he fainted from holding his breath for so long. Mrs. Puff, with her bright rosy cheeks, wiped her brow and hoped to the King that William appreciated all she had done for him.
"You're great great Granddaddy Huffin Puff," William's great grandfather, Duffy, mumbled just two days prior at William's graduation celebration. "He was the greatest (profession) that Hillsburry Hollow has ever seen! He was awarded by the King of the Forest himself!" William rolled his eyes and sipped his raspberry cordial.
"You know," Great Grandfather Duffy continued with his long white beard sticking to his pipe, " No one has seen the King since then." Duffy's eyes widened and one grey bushy eyebrow arched to his forehead. "Maybe our young William will have the skills to bring our dear King out of hiding. What a sight that would be!"

Secrets of an Eligible Rooker, part I (unedited, unfinished)

Some might say living in a hole sounds simply dreadful, but have you ever tried it? The amount of space that can be dug under the ground of various plant-life is quite remarkable and there is a sense of security unlike that of any other world. Naturally, it is fairly dark however, there have been clever ways invented which brings light into the home on account not everyone in particular enjoys the idea of living in a hole. Some have windows on the top of their homes, though those homes are usually full of uneducated Rookers, as our citizens are named, or new homeowners due to the fact that it is a challenge to open and close the windows from such heights and is quite frowned upon. Other Rookers line windows on the front of their homes near the door, the part peaking out of the earth, as to let light through.
Every hole is equipped with one window in the rear of the home in the master suite as for an emergency, incase of a fire or such. It would not be very smart to have only one way out of your home, now would it? However, everyone can agree that the best part of Hillsburry Hollow is not the practicality of underground living, rather what is to be seen out the window of every home every day.
In the morning the sun rises at the most convenient time whereas everyone has had a plentiful night's sleep and there is no reason to stay in bed any longer. The sun, as with the citizens of Hillsburry Hollow, take their time rubbing the sleep out of their wide eyes while slipping into their fur slippers and tying the belt of their wool robes. As the windows of each home are opened slightly because it never rains, humming birds and sparrows sing their morning song at the threshold of the window each morning. Some, mostly older folk, will lie still in their bed a moment or two gazing at the sun's purple glow to appreciate it's brilliant color.
At first, it is difficult not to glance at the sun as it rises in the periwinkle blue sky as this is the only time of day in which clouds are present. White puffs of cotton sprinkled with shades of coral red, plum purples, and fiery orange hug the dully lit morning sun, dully lit because it is much more pleasurable waking up to a dimmed sun, wouldn't you say?
Of course, the sun does not stay dull all day but only for the first hour at which time all the citizens of Hillsbury Hollow brew their strong cups of rosebud and hibiscus tea, crack open their hard boiled eggs, and rock in their hammock chairs woven with thin silky straw and lavender releasing the most relaxing aroma. And when the sun hits the center of the horizon, the clouds evaporate quickly leaving bright rays of sunlight to splurge from the sky, through the peep-hole's front door, and into the homes of each Rooker. The sun's rays dance across the wooden-covered dirt floors of each house-hole opening the door of every house on Hillsburry Hollow. All eligible citizens step outside, in their bare feet of course, onto the grass at which time they participate in the morning's exercise. Not one blade of grass is browned with death or age and is soft and cool with refreshment. Once the Eligibles, as this particular group of Rookers are called, have completed their morning's exercise, they stretch in various ways (touching the toes and such), and head down the pebble stone road to the Patch for work.
Every morning and every day is the same beautiful day as the next. All the citizens of Hillsburry Hallow are pleasant and grateful for the paradise they live in and all is pleasant and well. Yet with such a carefree life as these fine little Rookers have, an inperfection is bound to be missed a time or two. And as we examine the Hillsburry Hollow very careful we may find the start of something new.
Outside a rather smaller house-hole near the edge of the Hollow, one single blade of grass began to show a hint of a rusted color. It may have been red, perhaps a brown. The unfortunate truth is that no Rooker had ever seen death as everything in Hillsburry Hollow just floated away when it's time had come. In fact, that was the very color of this blade of grass. The color of death. No one in the cheerful Hollow could point out this small detail of their town, on account they had never seen Death and therefore could not recognize it. Perhaps, if they did there would be no story to tell. Nevertheless, this blade of grass is where our story begins.
The blade of grass sat at the very edge of the large and neglected garden of one Professor William Puff. Professor Puff was in fact of Eligible age. The celebration of his achievements had just occurred not two days prior and Puff was already beginning to rebel against the rules of the Patch, let alone the land. But, Professor Puff did not care. He did not care that his family, for many generations, had been successful and reliable (some garden profession) ever since Rookers came into existence.
Not only did the Puff Family excel in their profession, but they were also know for giving the grandest celebrations in most all Hillsbury Hollow and Professor William's graduation celebration was no acception.
The celebration preparations began five months prior to the date of graduation. Most all Eligible Rookers, whether a friend or not of William's, and Elders and even some other creatures of the Forest Kingdom were welcome to attend the festivities. The invitations were personalized tunes sung by a quartet of musical Rookers who sang the information to each guest in a four-part harmony. Of course, this was not the most convenient way to invite a guest to a party five months in advance on the account that most people, especially the Elders, began forgetting the details of the occasion. Therefore, a homemade berry pie was delivered to each guest, warm and gooey out of the oven, with a quaint note attached, handwritten of course, as to the details of the celebration of the Puff's first of fifteen sons to be graduated as an Eligible. The guests and warm berry pies were one-thousand-eight-hundred-and-ninety-four in number, as two pies were dropped by William Puff's four-year-old brother, Powder, on the way to the home of one Harold Armepitt on the other side of town and yet another on account that Powder was crying so hard from dropping the first two pies that he didn't see a big old rock in front of him, tripped, and dropped the third. A Miss Thorne Innerside sent her pie back to the Puff Home as Mrs. Puff neglected to recall Miss Thorne was allergic to berries. A warm caramel and apple spice cobbler was immediately sent back to Miss Thorne with a thousand apologizes by Mrs. Puff herself.
The invitations were just the beginning of the preparations for the proud Puff's celebration of their first of fifteen sons to graduate as an Eligible Rooker. Foods from the far Eastland made of ancient spices were crated in on large gray elephants. Cakes from Westside were shipped on the backs of sea urchins and picked up the Bird Herd to be carried deep in the heart of Hillsburry Hollow. Toys made by Elvins mysteriously appeared at the doorstep of the Puff Home in small yellow boxes, though misleading as when you opened them many a creature full of enchantment flowed happily out of the boxes. Streams and streams of merry things came pouring into the home of Puff for the happy occasion of Professor William to celebrate his ultimate achievement and beginning of contributing to the society of Eligible Rookers.
On the morning of this glorious occasion, William was found rocking on his hammock with a long wood-carved pipe hanging out of his mouth. Every few moments, William would take a long suck of tobacco then remove the pipe from his mouth and making an "O" shape with his lips, release rings of smoke then with the roll of his tongue a puffball of smoke would roll it's way into the ring. William found amusement in this little game for the first half of the morning though many a time he could hear in the distance his mother calling his name. He sunk even deeper into his hammock, one arm behind his head, and drifted off into a naïve and fearless dream.
Outside the Puff's house-hole, the hustle and bustle of party preparations were in full force. The large white silk tent had been assembled by the Bird Herd whom, though had taken direction very well, were actually beginning to get annoyed with the precision in which Mrs. Puff wanted all of the decorations. She had instructed them several times to make the point at the roof of the tent higher, then lower, then the ropes to hold up the tent were not taut enough. The ribbons at each corner of the tent were to be 20 diameters in size and exactly 8 feet from the bottom of the tent, no wait-- 5 feet. Then again, 8 looks much better. Yes, 8 feet. The birds fluttered about in a bobbing motion with each instruction Mrs. Puff gave. They were very much dreading the upcoming years of working with Mrs. Puff for her other children, William was the first of fifteen! The poor Bird Herd was already feeling a dull ache in their head at the thought.
The Brewer family was wheeling in the barrels of lager and a variety of berry cordials from the other side of town. The baker and his ten anxious assistants walked very slowly across the Willow Field while balancing an over-sized, twenty-tiered cake between them and yelling at anyone who came within five feet of where they were headed. The trip from the cart across the field to the party tent was 50 yards and as the Baker slid the cake onto the large dining table he fainted from holding his breath for so long. Mrs. Puff, with her bright rosy cheeks, wiped her brow and hoped to the King that William appreciated all she had done for him.
"You're great great Granddaddy Huffin Puff," William's great grandfather, Duffy, mumbled just two days prior at William's graduation celebration. "He was the greatest (profession) that Hillsburry Hollow has ever seen! He was awarded by the King of the Forest himself!" William rolled his eyes and sipped his raspberry cordial.
"You know," Great Grandfather Duffy continued with his long white beard sticking to his pipe, " No one has seen the King since then." Duffy's eyes widened and one grey bushy eyebrow arched to his forehead. "Maybe our young William will have the skills to bring our dear King out of hiding. What a sight that would be!"

The Hook

A change was in order.
It all started when Judd claimed he could balance the thing on his nose.
The happenings which I am about to tell you have a solemn ending.
I'm not quite sure why he thought he was a wizard.
I can't quite place the exact moment the world came to an end. It just sort of happened.
Unlike many other tales that small children hear tucked tightly in their beds, this particular tale was quite true.
The way I see it, the guy actually deserved to die.
It was a particularly crisp day when Mr. Buttercup stepped out of his log.
No one knows quite how the story went. It has been so many years. No one except the trees, who are much too tired to tell it anyway.
When one speaks of fairies, justice is never served.
The clock had been 2:54a.m for 93 minutes, I counted.
I'm not really sure why I'm the one telling his story, it wasn't my life. All I did was sit by and watch his whole life come crashing down right before my eyes. Stupid bastard.
She died in my arms on Baker Alley. Blood oozed out of her head. I smelled my wet fingers. Nothing.

Father

I laid her gently on my chest, sure to keep her tiny toes from the sand. She wiggled slightly before resting steadily on top of me.
Lying on the sand, I scanned my surroundings. The bright lights irritated the blackened sky. With one hand on her back and one behind my head, I sunk into the soft, white sand.
Blinking a few times, I watched the sparkling stars. Their rays glistened on the dark sky's stage.
The moon sat low near the horizon giving off a pink hue. It's light faded across the glassy ocean. It reminded me of a dimly lit candle in a dark room.
My hands glided up and down the infant's back as her slow breaths assured sleep. I spoke to the stars, thanking them for their bold presence. I talked to the moon, requesting a spotlight for the waves.
Then, I whispered to her.
"See there, my darling. I've dimmed the moon for you. It's rays will rest tonight. I know how you love pink. See there? I've done that for you. And the stars, they dance on their black canvas. I know they don't move. They are shining brightly tonight. Thousands of them. Do you see them all? I've done that for you."
A star rode across the sky. "You see that, my love? That is a shooting star. I've made that for you. A moment of bliss among thousands that appear the same. Why is it so special? It's radiance exceeds all others in the darkness. It shines the brightest. It gives you joy. I see the smile creeping onto your lips. I feel your heart beat with excitement. It's a shooting star, my darling. I've done that for you."
The star disappeared from the sky, as if it never existed.
"But, that is now gone. That's the catch of this gift. You love it? Me too. It is sparse and beautifully designed. I did that for you. Don't wish on it, my love, though tempting. Keep your hopes and dreams with me. That shooting star is easy to love. It is brilliant, it is divine." My eyes filled with water. I released my grasp from her back to wipe away a rolling tear. I gently rested my hand back on her still body.
"Those shooting stars, my love, they are intangible." I leaned down and gently kissed her sleeping head.