Posted on by JenniferShelby

how I confused the stork

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The stork scratched his head with his trusty pencil and squinted at the birth announcement. He couldn’t figure it out, and he didn’t appreciate it. Baby delivering storks are somewhat endangered due to having little time to relax and lay eggs while they’re busy delivering countless babies in this over-populated world of ours. Every stork had to work, long, hard hours coming and going from the cabbage patch. They didn’t have time for tomfoolery.

His knock on my door sounded upset (and feathery). “What’s wrong?” I asked, as I opened the door.

He waved my birth announcement in the air. “What does this mean? You writers with your metaphors, choice of voice, and desire to be creative! Are you having a book or a baby?”

I could feel my eyes glaze over – a new book! My heart leapt at the idea. And with NaNoWriMo just around the corner…the baby launched a hard kick somewhere deep inside my swollen belly. “A baby, I’m sure of it. Early February.”

The stork made a few notes on the back of the picture. “February, eh? Interesting timing. Middle of winter and all that. Very inconvenient. I don’t like getting snow on my feathers, you know, makes them all clumpy.” He shook his head at my belly and flew off, his grumbles echoing through the night.

 

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just a quick winter’s nap

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Summer left them ragged, tattered, and tired. A flush crept into their cheeks, their eyelids growing bothersome and heavy. “It isn’t anything personal,” they say, their mumbles descending into snores, “a quick winter’s nap and I’ll be good as new.”

The rest of us smile and prepare for our leafless, snowy futures with mugs of hot drinks, stacks of worthy books, woolly mittens, and fuzzy slippers, knowing as we do a winter’s nap is anything but quick.

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an ogre grumbles, ill content

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Her voice fell to a whisper. “Be careful, he’s sensitive.”

“Why?”

A grumble filled the air. “Because I used to be an ogre. I used to fight! I could eat a village in two minutes flat. Broke records, I did, until I met that witch with twitchy wand. Now look at me, I’m a dang marshmallow!”

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just an old worker bee

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Frederik sensed the seasons changing. He knew he didn’t have much longer before the frosts came and the cooler temperatures brought an end to his life. If he found himself a new hive in time he might stand a chance, but he would have to leave his best friend.

The same best friend who offered him the shelter of her petals when his old hive cast him out. He was just another worker bee who got too old and too slow. The flower didn’t think so. She loved him, and she appreciated all the pollen he’d brought her over the summer. He didn’t know it, but she had saved her sweetest nectar for his daily visits.

She didn’t have much more than a month to go herself before the winter took over and scattered her seeds to the wind. He hugged her close. He would never leave.

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for the kids who get bullied

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We all have those days, even when we’re too old to admit it, when we’re nursing secret hurts from bullies it feels no one else can see but us. The isolation and the disbelief don’t make the bullying hurt any less. Just because there aren’t any witnesses doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Your hurts are real. I believe you. And so does my old friend, this nifty flying feline fairy here.

He doesn’t look like much, but he can unleash fairy vengeance like you’ve never seen. Ask him for help, and he’ll be there. He’ll knot their eyelashes together if that’s what you need. He’ll smear an invisible stink on the bottom of your bullies’ new shoes. He’ll ask his trusty monster friend to set up shop beneath their bed, and clean out all the grocery stores of their favorite foods. If they’re far too awful for such niceties, he might even pee in their bathwater. Whatever sort of vengeance he deems your particular bully might deserve.

You won’t get the chance to see him at work, but he’ll tell you all about with cookies and popcorn (and that’s the best part). He’s a good guy. Trust me, I’ve asked him for help a few times myself.

 

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an artifact of curiosity

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The first twin leaned in and inspected the thing. “It could be anything: a crashed spaceship, a shriveled-up alien that couldn’t survive in our atmosphere…”

“Or a disembodied eye sent to spy on us by some weird old wizard!” said the second twin.

“You guys are so dramatic, it’s just a dried up rosehip,” said the girl.

The boys stopped and stared at her a moment before shaking their heads. “No way. If that’s not worth a fortune in some wizard’s herb shop, I’ll eat my shoe.”

The girl reconsidered. They were the only other kids in the neighborhood. She wanted them to like her, needed them to like her if she wanted to have anyone to play with. “Well, did you know rosehips can cure scurvy?”

“What, like in pirates?”

“Yeah, like in pirates.”

“Whoa.” The boys looked at her with a new respect.

 

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a squish of rotten apples

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It isn’t easy being an apple, employed again and again as a deliverer of fairy tale poison, forbidden fruit, pressed into ciderhood, and baked alive inside a pie. Yet in the first fine summer of innocence, growing content upon a loving mother tree, there is no better life than that of an apple. Born from a flower into a cloud of buzzing bees, growing in the heat of a hot summer sun, ripening to cool autumn kisses, oh, there is a reason they taste so sweet.

Wait, no, that one’s tart! So tart!

“That’s right, you monster! Stay away from my babies!” said the apple tree, pelting down a rain of bruising fruit.

I tried to run but I slipped in a squish of rotten fruit, smearing myself with startled worms and brownish goop. I won’t soon forget the sound of her laughter as it shredded the last of my dignity.

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far too much woman for just one season

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“Old Man Winter’s not so bad. I mean, he has a right to be here, and sometimes he’s downright cozy,” said Mother Nature, shaking her head. “I just don’t understand why he insists on leaving his beards all over the place. And don’t even get me started on the way he hides all my handiwork under snow.”

“Is that why you two have such an on-again, off-again relationship?”

She tossed her hair and sent me a glare. “Listen, I’m far too much woman for just one season. Judge me if you dare, but just remember who’s in charge of wrinkles and stretch marks at the end of the day.”

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cinderspider and the idiot prince

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Somewhere, a clock struck twelve, the bells ringing out into the night. She dashed away across the meadow, wet with rain, eager to escape before her fairy godmother’s spell fell to pieces. Her feet soon grew soaked, her gown soiled, and in haste she dropped her shawl. Oh, she knew the story required her to leave behind a glass slipper, but glass slippers were hard to come by, and they were just so pretty she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

The prince chased after her, losing sight of her in the darkness. He plucked the shawl from its perch in the weeds and brought it back to search for clues. He hired his best forensic analysts, eager to find his lost lady love. Of course he didn’t know that after the spell broke, the shawl would turn into a spider’s web again.

The forensic team each came to the same conclusion.

The wedding took place in the palace, a quiet affair. The queen wept, as did the king, though he had his own reasons for doing so. Had the whole world gone mad? What kind of a prince fell in love with a spider?

The prince, in his defense, never expected to lift his brides’ veil and discover a spider underneath. How had his love become a spider? Had science failed him? No, it couldn’t be so. He’d danced with her, whispered sweet nothings in her ear! So he wed her just the same.

The spider suspected the prince must be mad, but life in a palace, out of the elements, with only the choicest of flies for dinner? What spider would refuse?

From somewhere high above the scene, the fairy godmother looked on, shaking her head and washing her hands of all of it. She deemed Cinderella better off scrubbing floors in a nice pair of shoes than getting mixed up with this lot.

 

 

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the return of the autumn monster

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The autumn monster has awoken. Hungry after three long seasons of hibernation, she stretches and gets to work without delay. First, she chooses a maple, her favorite, to begin, and puts her lips to the bottom of a leaf where it meets the stem. She takes one last look around to make sure no one is watching and – she sucks out all the green. SLURP!