I wiggled my tools on her checkered floor. Grandma wasn't awake yet, but I loved to get up early to see deer, or squirrels!

As I watched the deer walking to the woods, she came up behind me.

"How about some breakfast, dear?"

She always made my favorites. Once I heard the sizzle of the pan, I jumped up to help. I set the table just right, and pulled out the ketchup for the eggs.

We ate our breakfast as she asked about our plans for the day. As always, we would make a trip to the library!

Once we had finished the dishes and gotten dressed, out the door we went. We saw my aunt, who had just showed up. She sat there with a cigarette to her mouth. Grandma grabbed the newspaper from the porch, and whacked my aunt across the head!

"I thought I told you, no more smoking at my place!"

My aunt apologized, embarrassed, and told my grandma she came to mow her yard.

"Well, good," Grandma said. "It's getting too tall."

She walked me away, since I had been coughing from the smoke. We got to the car and drove off. Once we had arrived at the library, my coughing hadn't stopped. As soon as she heard the splash of the fountain, Grandma took me to get a drink. Once I'd stopped, I almost ran to grab a book.

Once I had gotten one, I sat down to read. The library cat came beside me and tried to hit my book. I swatted at the cat and she ran off.

Now I was getting hungry. Grandma checked my books out, and she told me we were getting a surprise. I was so excited as we pulled up to the Wendy's drive-thru. One chocolate frosty, just for me! I ate it as quickly as I got it, and soon I was asleep.

The next thing I knew, I was back home. My day with Grandma was over. I went to the phone and dialed her number to set up another day together.

Pink City, cherry radiated

heights

Tantrum winds spit hail, Arthur Aims torn,

Avalon square, Dark Tower dawns, night was

A coat, fleece laced, heat waves, sweet glacier shake,

Strawberry sips fizzle, bacon burger,

Crisp fries and a twenty dollar check, worn

Waitress plays sobering oldie blues,

Sinatra and such, neon buzz tempts kindly.

Historia was dead and decrepit,

Revived by ageless Legion fiends, hooded

Bureaucrats of D.C., some timeworn place

Made in the image of Academy...

John hardly knows Alexandria, still

He continues his conquest for freedom,

Soon he’ll slip back to static, back to pain...

Forget that siren, let that fool crumble…

Damn this mute sector! Empty China plates

Take Aim’s booth, push then pivot, pulsing streets

Welcome vagabond youth, icy daggers

Melt on contact, tell me quick what did I

Miss? Kim, mother's bracing gaze, regrets in

Putrid bottles, cat naps, slow dancing with

You, drowning in hell, purring kittens, old

Days written, soon I'll slip, for now I stroll.

Half carat shine each intersect, dead child

Intercepts, chocolate fervor buzzes

In each ear, numb to death,

next step lights up

Digital, azure footprints mark new life,

Amethyst towers slice skies, blizzard streets

Roar frigid flames, Eden close, Ashes float

Above my dragon’s breath, three cans and I'm

Still going, Red District consumes sick,

Black laces sewn Faithless, toxic kiss, wash

Your lips, Scarlet rift , sparkling tan skin-

Hannah I frequent- onyx curls, rosy

Perfume scent pumps tombstone heart, she was aimless

My tyrant midnight fool, a succubus

Healing searing ripe wounds, brown sugar eyes,

Take this drink... and become... Legion....,prey of prey,

Timeless Traveler.

___________________________________________________________________

(1) Doom: https://theprose.com/post/419897/doom

(2) Historia: https://theprose.com/post/424698/historia

(3) Oblivion: https://theprose.com/post/426993/oblivion

(4) Oceanside: https://theprose.com/post/428493/oceanside

(5) Apocalypse: https://theprose.com/post/432306/apocalypse

(6) Entity: https://theprose.com/post/435150/entity

(7) Academy [doesn’t really count but it exists]: https://theprose.com/post/454455/academy

(8) Timeless: https://theprose.com/post/485400/timeless

(9) Eden: https://theprose.com/post/503844/eden

(10) Legion: https://theprose.com/post/525083/legion

(11) Afterlife: https://theprose.com/post/525696/afterlife

(12) Hellfire: https://theprose.com/post/530083/hellfire

(13) Deliverance: https://theprose.com/post/612211/deliverance

So this writing challenge is all about Dziewczyny z Dubaju. I'm not sure what this challenge is looking for as far as a writing piece, but I am guessing it has to do with the film Dziewczyny z Dubaju. I did a Google search and now know that this film exists, so if this challenge was for promoting the movie, I suppose it worked, because I now know it exists. Here are some suggestions I have for more ways to promote the film:

Shout it from the rooftops, go see Dziewczyny z Dubaju!

Buy a souvenir popcorn bucket and soda cup that showcases the film Dziewczyny z Dubaju!

On popular mobile games, we need ads that will give you power ups in the game for watching them, and those ads should feature, you guessed it, Dziewczyny z Dubaju!

Play the video game tie in for Dziewczyny z Dubaju!

Speaking of mobile devices, download the exclusive Dziewczyny z Dubaju app!

Give me a D.... D! Give me a z....z! Give me an i.... i! Give me an e.... e! Give me a w.... w! Give me a c.... c! Give me a z.... z! Give me a y.... y! Give me a n.... n! Give me a y.... y! Give me a space.... space! Give me a z.... z! Give me a space.... space! Give me a D... D! Give me a u.... u! Give me a b.... b! Give me an a.... a! Give me a j.... j! Give me a u.... u!

What's that spell? Dziewczyny z Dubaju! Louder! Dziewczyny z Dubaju! What movie are we going to see this weekend? Dziewczyny z Dubaju!

Dear Responsible Son Letter

Dear son, we are so proud of you for growing into a responsible man.

Your  wise decision to rent, from your loving parents,

a large furnished room with TV, computer and private bathroom with meals and snacks seems to be working out well.

Also when all your clothing and bedding is placed in the laundry room by you. It will be cleaned and placed on hangers ready for you to take back to your room.

Your very responsible little sister agreed to take a much smaller room without a private bath because you promised her you would go to soccer games once a month.

Dear son, we are so proud of you for growing into a responsible man.

The small fee for all these amenities is one eighth or less of the cost you would have had to make if you had rented an apartment near the University you are going to while getting a very good education. This was a great decision on your part.

Plus food and all utilities and your auto insurance and health insurance have been included. This is a great deal you wangled into the agreement.

Dear son, we are so proud of you for growing into a responsible man.

Your grades are outstanding. No wonder you are high in grades because you are home almost every night studying except for the part-time job you have on weekends. You will become a great lawyer like your Grandpa.

Speaking of Grandpa…do you remember how gracious he was drawing up a fair tenant / landlord agreement for the large furnished room with TV, computer and private bathroom that you seem to love along with the food and drink that is included?

Did we tell you we are so proud of you for growing into a responsible man?

Please remember one of the clauses, that you, and said landlord, both agreed on?

You know the one about paying a reduced fee for all the above with small chores,

like helping with the occasional yard work, helping with Your very responsible little sister at her soccer games once a month,

keeping your room and bath in reasonable order, changing the sheets once a week and sending to the laundry room,

and having no food particles on the new carpet, dirty dishes, spills on the floor, empty cans on the floor

( there are two large waste baskets in the room ), no pets indoors and last but not least

the shower, toilet and sink does need to be cleaned at least once a week even if only one person uses it every day.

Dear son, we are so proud of you for growing into a responsible man.

Remember the clause stating if premises are not cleaned once a month the landlord has permission ( from you to enter said room ) and hire a maid

to clean said room and bath to it’s original order when you moved into these rooms with payment coming from you?

Did we tell you we are so proud of you for growing into a responsible man?

Well the maid came to clean today. My oh My she had to ask your very responsible little sister to go outside and bring the cat indoors to help her catch your pet, Mrs. Mouse.

Mrs Mouse is now in a cage sitting on the dryer in the laundry room, with her nest!

You will have to start feeding her daily because now there are no crumbs, under the bed, on the dresser or on the new carpet.

Your very responsible little sister said she would take care of Mrs. Mouse until the babies are born.

Then you and she can get in the car and release them in the field 2 miles down the road.

Dear son, we are so proud of you for growing into a responsible man.

You complained that your part time weekend job only pays $15.00 per hour so taking this into consideration that the maid worked 3 hours and 20 minutes on your room

You may please write a check for $50.00 for her service along with our rental agreement this month.

Tonight’s dinner is all your favorites including Triple chocolate cake. We love you so much.

Dear son, we are so proud of you for growing into a responsible man.

P.S.

Wherever you are, be there totally.

If you find your here and now intolerable

 and it makes you unhappy,

you have three options: 

remove yourself from the situation,

change it,

or accept it totally.

 If you want to take responsibility for your life,

 you must choose one of those three options,

and you must choose now.

~ Eckhart Tolle

© Julia A Knaake

It would’ve been easy if I hadn’t run into Alice on the way down the stairs.

Putting her hands on either side of the railing to block my progress, Alice frowns and looks me up and down. “Where are you going?” Her voice drips with disapproval, and sometimes she reminds me so much of Mom it’s like she’s here.

“To a party, dumbass,” I quip back, pushing her arm out of the way and stomping past her down the stairs.

I glance back to see Alice’s arms windmill momentarily as she attempts to keep her balance. She’s so stiff and frail sometimes I think a strong breeze could knock her off her feet.

“It’s a school night.” She stares down her nose at me.

I bite back a nasty response and say instead, “Yeah,” as I yank old converse onto my feet.

“Are you going to tell Dad, at least?” Her voice is starting to switch over to its shrill tone, which means she’s worrying about things. She picked that up from Mom, too, but at least Mom doesn’t sound like a squeaky appliance when she speaks.

“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” I snap back. We both know Dad doesn’t give a damn what any of us do. I think he’s afraid of us. Or doesn’t understand the female species, anyway, which was terrible luck for him. Four daughters.

When Mom isn’t around, Dad’s always holed up in his office, only really coming out to make us dinner. We used to eat together, sitting and stumbling through conversations with Aisling at the head. Without Mom home to regale us with stories about her exciting travel adventures, Aisling, as the eldest, would take over the conversation.

She used to talk about upcoming concerts, and weird fashion trends, and global warming, and why we should become vegetarians, and a million other things Dad doesn’t understand. Sometimes he would change the topic, and sometimes he’d quietly disagree, and sometimes he’d stare at his food like he was a ghost that couldn’t hear anything at all.

But Aisling is in college, as she has been the last two years, and dinner is no longer a family activity. Alice had tried, briefly, as the new oldest daughter of the house, to fill the silence. She’d talk about her classes and her grades and the one point she’d missed on her chemistry test and how oh-so sad she is about it. Boo hoo.

It didn’t take long for us to decide it’s better for us to eat at different times, or in different rooms. Or not at home at all. Alice stays, and sits in what I presume must be silence with Dad. I eat in my room. And Ava, who thinks she’s so cool because she’s in seventh grade and seventh graders are little shits, sits in the corner of the living room with headphones in.

Sometimes I think Ava doesn’t have a soul in her body. When she’s not actively ignoring everyone around her, she’s lamenting over Mom being away or begging Dad for whatever’s the cool new trend right now. What’s worse is that he always caves. None of the rest of us were allowed to be cool in seventh grade, but she’s the baby, so she gets what she wants.

It all makes me miss Aisling even more, because she’s the only person in this family I can stand. She would think it’s fun that I’m going to a party; she’d be excited for me. Unlike perfect little Alice, who is still glaring holes in me from her spot on the stairs.

“If you’re so concerned, you tell Dad,” I say up to her, then yank open the front door and escape outside.

* * *

More: https://theprose.com/post/493595/dangerous

reading this brings tears to my eyes,

i rub my tentacles, removing loose scales, and dried ooze, and think, that for the first time, despite all the hardship and all the problems, all the injustice and all those slings and arrows, there is hope. it is truly the power of the word to bring in me such an flood of emotion. inundated as i am by this deluge, i only regret that this masterpiece, did not come earlier in my life. oh, how could i have benefitted from such an uplifting message, such a strong protest , as this is, when i was younger. oh, how would i have been made greater in heart of only i had read this earlier in my life.

but perhaps that is the point. i was not worthy of reading such a thing, i was perhaps not even prepared for such depth of though and beauty. perhaps it would have just passed by my awarness then, as i occupied myself with lesser things.

perhaps this is nothing less than a summary of what I stand for. the article is me, and I am it. it matters not that it was not penned by my hand, for indeed that is genius that stand behind such work; the abillity to transcend the limited perspective of an individual and reach a more profound, far-reaching and universal measure of the existential condition.

some would say that they can not relate fully to this wobderous piece. it is as if it is written in tongues to them. some criticize the devisive nature of this piece. i shall say to that, that it is a testament to a free society, that ideas can be freely expressed, even if they are througholy misinformed, ignorant, malignant, or shallow. it is not wrong to have an opinion. but having an opinion is no less a test than forming one. having, ir rather, RETAINING an opinion , despite overwhelming evidence, despite the moral implications of such an opinion is a sign not of wisdom or knowledge, but of closed horizons, and obtuse attitude.

I don’t know what‘s coming.

He died on a Tuesday afternoon whilst resting in his porch rocker. The occasional breeze stirred it and him like an ever so gentle hand on his back, or like a single bare toe barely touching down. The weathered slats beneath the chair bemoaned his passing, groaning with the shifting weight of it even as Nature’s warm breath ruffled the cotton sleeve of his work shirt and rocked him away to someplace different.

I cannot know what’s coming.

The bronzed skin of his face was cast in the halo of a single porch fixture, it’s mason jar globe speckled with time, flies and spiders. In the weak light he looked deceptively young with his many wrinkles relaxed, and drawn in tight. In fact, he could have been only resting. There was no reason to think that the bony fingers draped around the end of the chair’s armrest wouldn’t tighten their grasp at any second, that they wouldn’t lift him up onto those spindly, unsteady legs so that he might shuffle into the kitchen to re-fill the iced tea glass grown half-clear with melted ice water, the same glass which always waited so patiently for him on the tin table-stand beside the chair. The glass that sat amongst the rusty tattoos etched into it by forty years of condensation rings. I always thought he’d made his tea too sweet, although I drank it when it was offered, but then he wasn’t making it for me, and that was how the old folks done it, like the tea was their only candy, and they must have it close by to satisfy an intermittently raging sweet-tooth.

We don’t know what’s coming.

We cannot know.

Whatever it may be leaves a far away expression on a withered face, despite the cold chill it shivers through the bones of those left behind. For a long time I looked, brushing away the moths and gnats with my cap, far longer than I should have, wondering where he’d gone. Something turned as I stood there looking. The longer I looked the warmer those bones grew. Wherever he was, it was not here, and it might be he’s somewhere with her again, which is what he’d always wanted anyways.

He looked happier than I’d ever seen him before, and many times I’d seen him crinkle with laughter. He was at ease, so I picked up my guitar case and started away. He wouldn’t want the first responders… that whole scene. He was always so private.

No. I don’t know what’s coming, but it must be better.

It’s got to be better.