One evening I looked up at the sky and admired all the billions of stars scattered across it.

They danced across the dark background.

They brought light where there was darkness and even in the midst of that darkness they still gleamed brightly like diamonds and like diamonds they were beautiful and different in their own way.

I looked up at the stars and it made me think of you.

In the night you came,

Amid announcments and cluttering ,

And screeching of wheels on lenoleum floors,

You looked like a strudel,

You looked like a burrito,

Wrapped in your pink fluffy blanket,

I.V drip in the background,

Small face,

Little fingers,

Tiny toes.

You cried when I held you.

Nothing could have prepared me for this,

Nothing was like this before,

The doctor took you away again for a while.

Then brought you back to me,

I hope forever.

“Grandma,” Laurie said, scrambling onto her grandmother’s lap in the rocking chair,” tell me how you and grandpa met. Please.”

“I’d love to, darling. Let’s see,” she closed her eyes, rocking gently and holding Laurie.

“Well, I was working in an office back then, and one day one of my co-workers said that there was some gorgeous guy down in this place called Sweet Imports. You should see him, she said. Drop dead gorgeous, said another.”

“What did you do Grandma?”

“Well, the next day, I went there. It was a kind of café.”

“What’s a café, Grandma?”

“It’s a place where you can buy foods like sandwiches and salads, muffins and cakes and things like that. And coffee, of course. Café means coffee in French.”

“Do you speak French, Grandma?”

“Yes, darling,” she laughed.

“What happened next, Grandma?”

“Well, as soon as I opened the door, it was as if no one else were there but Grandpa and me. He looked at me and we smiled at each other as if we’d been waiting for that moment all our lives.”

“Did you say hello?”

“No sweetheart; actually, I just bought a muffin.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, I left and my heart was pounding.”

“Why, did you run from the coffee?”

“No, sweetheart, I didn’t run from the café.” She looked into little Laurie’s face. “Think about this: When you get really excited or happy about something, does your heart seem to beat a little faster?"

Laurie scrunched her face and thought. Then it lit up with understanding. “Yes, Grandma! I get it. It’s like when we’re going on a trip or coming to your house, or like when we got the new puppy!” Then she frowned. “But I jump up and down a lot too, Grandma.”

Grandma laughed, as did you from the other room. “Well, I was jumping up and down on the inside, honey,” she smiled, hugging Laurie close to her. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, smiling at the memory she was sharing.

Although you were in the next room, the warm timbre of her voice caressed your skin, enveloping you in the memory, touching your heart. You closed your eyes, and remembered…

You had looked up and though you didn’t know, her knees quivered. You saw a familiar face though you had never seen her before and felt your heart leap. She looked into your eyes, big and brown, framed by long thick lashes, and smiled. You looked into her eyes and returned the smile, shy and sincere. Your face, open and innocent.

You didn’t speak. She walked to the back of the line and watched you work. Another took her order. She paid and left. You watched her from beneath those lovely, longed for lashes until only the echo of her heels remained.

Later that same day, she returned. The bell above the door tingled. You felt her before the door opened. Your skin felt like electricity ran through your veins, alive with her gaze upon it. You looked up, your eyes met; she smiled, not as innocent as you, a little nervous, a little wary, already in love. You smiled and your heart was in your eyes.

“May I help you?” you asked with a lovely accent she could not place.

“Um, a strawberry, yogurt shake, please.”

“Right away,” you replied.

She watched your every movement. You felt her gaze burning your skin. You flushed.

Your hand trembled ever so slightly when you handed her the shake.

“Two-fifty. You can pay the cashier.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

You shared another smile. She left.

For a week, no day was complete unless she came in twice a day: muffin in the morning, shake at noon. Finally, you decided five minutes was not enough. You wanted to know this woman. The woman behind the smile.

“I would like to see you,” you said Thursday afternoon.

“I see you every day,” she replied, surprised, scared, excited. Scared.

“No, you misunderstand. I am working. I would like to sit. Talk. You know? Know you better.” You were nervous now. Had you misinterpreted her eyes, her smile? Your English wasn’t very good, but you had thought some things needed no translation.

“We’ll see,” she said, smiling and almost running from the store.

The next day, she came in and smiled but ran out without saying a word. The weekend was long. You played videogames with your brother and watched the clock, counting the minutes until you could go to work on Monday. You even cleaned the bathroom – shared by four men who didn’t like to clean - to make the time go more quickly. Sunday afternoon you went to a flea market and bought a pocketbook handmade in Turkey, your home. Sunday night you drank an entire bottle of vodka and chain smoked two packs of cigarettes to calm your nerves. Your friends laughed at your drunken tears but also tried to boost your courage.

Monday morning finally arrived and when she came in you said, “Don’t go. I have something for you.” You came from behind the counter and handed her the pocketbook.

“Oh my! Thank you so much!” She hugged you and you almost fainted. Your knees quivered. “What time do you finish work?” she asked.

“4:30.”

“Well, if you don’t mind waiting until 5:00, would you like to have dinner tonight?”

Silence. Did you understand correctly? Did she just invite you to dinner?

“Yes” you spluttered, afraid she’d take it back. Afraid.

She smiled. “Good. I’ll meet you by the fountain at 5:00 o’clock.”

“5:00 o’clock,” you repeated.

She took you to a health food restaurant. The food was horrible. No meat and you didn’t recognize anything on your plate. Then, you didn’t have enough money to pay so she had to pay. You gave her every penny in your pocket except what you needed for the subway. You thought, what an idiot, she’ll never go out with me again. Then, she took your hand as you walked to the train station and your heart soared at the same moment that you began to tremble and then worry about your sweaty hands.

That was Monday. Every day that week she came in, smiled, bought her muffin or shake and left. But the smiles were a little brighter. The eyes spoke a little more clearly. No translation necessary. All of a sudden it was Friday.

“Would you like to spend the day with me tomorrow?” you asked. “We could walk around the city and then I will take you to nice restaurant for dinner?”

“That would be lovely. What time would you like to meet?”

“Noon? By the fountain?”

“Sounds great.”

It’s Saturday and you are banging your head on the subway door. You have been sitting in the middle of nowhere for an hour. No moving. They make announcements but you don’t understand. You just think, she will leave. She will think I’m not coming and she will leave. She will hate me. First, I couldn’t buy dinner, now this. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And you bang your head to the rhythm of your thoughts.

One-fifteen. You are running through the station. You take the steps two at a time. You are sweating, praying, panting. You can’t breathe, but you run. Hoping. You run through the lobby and push through the revolving doors and stop. You see her by the fountain, reading a book. She looks up, smiles and waves. In that moment you think, that is the woman I am going to marry. And you do.

“Grandma, where are you going?”

“To give Grandpa a kiss.”

Laurie giggled. “Why Grandma?

“Every time I tell that story, I remember how much I love him.”

“And I you,” you say coming through the doorway and pulling her into your arms.

“Ooooo! Grandpa, grandma! Mommy! Grandma and grandpa are smooching again!”

“One more drink. Please! I think the guy I’m talking to is gonna ask for my number. ” Said her friend just five minutes before. With two aching feet and one faltering back, reluctantly she yielded to her friends demand, something she knew her friend would do for her, ordering a white wine spritzer, knowing she had already reached her liquor max, and she turned around to give the budding couple space when blue eyes locked on her from across the crowded dance floor like an experienced target bomber on a battleship. The music pumped a sultry rhythm through the overgrown speakers and traveled deep into her groin, faster than a vultures impulse and there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she had just been unexpectedly bitten by a thing called love. What was she going to do about it, considering blue eyes was starting to move, and not towards her, away from her, which she found odd, because she was sure she read his eyes right, in the same we she reads and rereads A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns.

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the sea gang dry.

Never a shrinking violet, yet never a woman to initiate a pursuit, she went straight into the crowd and the dancers parted like a red sea, as if they were divinely ordered, seeming to pave the way in the name of love, and as she approached him he seemed startled as if she was dropped from the sky, not as a cold foreign metal object dropped from a spacecraft, but rather a precious gem, a stray diamond that broke free from a lost meteor, landing on him like the birth of a newborn baby. Again their eyes locked and she said the first thing that came to her mind in a naturally seductive tone.

“Are you wandering aimlessly?”

And he replied as spontaneously,

“Not any longer.”

The music disconnected, but in reality it did not. Everything around them stopped, except for their intense immediate connection.

By the end of the night he told her his reason for walking away, not towards her, with the vulnerability of an old friend, “I thought you were a mirage or a hallucination because I saw some type of aura around you after we locked eyes. I know how ridiculous that sounds, but it’s the truth, and quite frankly, it scared the crap out of me so I wanted to circle the room first, to catch my nerve, and make sure you were real, but it seems you beat me to the finish line, and I’m glad you did.”

They exchanged numbers and he called her the next morning before his coffee at 7 am; she expected the phone to ring and they talked so long they were both late for work on the first morning of the rest of their lives together.

Twenty- five years and a whole lot of shared coffee later, they say good night to each other every night as they did on that first starry night, comfortably tucked in, as husband and wife, a love story built on first sight.

I believe a lot of people mistake lust for love. So falling in love with someone's appearance at first sight seems a little shallow to me. But I do believe you can know someone's the one after the first date or after meeting them at a business meeting/etc. I've seen that happen to some people I knew. So I guess my statement is that you cannot fall in love with someone and their whole being (like their personality and everything else that makes up this person) with just one sight. But I do believe you can feel that love connection after meeting just once, even if you don't act on it until further in the future.

C’mon... jus’ a few more stitches.

“Af’er te’ beast boys!” her father’s voice roared throughout the dense forest, accompanied by a hellish symphony of war horses and swords clanging with each gallop; blue irises darting back and forth from the tapestry to the rapidly brightening sky; it was ever clear that she was running out of time.

North of her, she could hear the mighty growl of a grizzly bear fleeing from the murderous rampage that was quickly gaining on them; the sensory overload that was bombarding her proved to make the current task of stitching the torn tapestry of her mother rather difficult, but she was ever determined to change her fate.

“Faster! C’mon!” the red haired archer demanded of her steed, who would promptly obey by galloping at the fastest speed it could muster; the young princess could only pray to the gods of old she would make it in time.

Thread would find itself mending the fabric at a much more accerlated rate now, the archer’s full attention glued to the task at hand so much so that she failed to pay attention to where she had been riding; with a startled scream, she and the tapestry would be ejected from the horse, her body coming to a crashing halt on the outskirts of the familiar clearing encircled by stone pillars. In the center, she would lay eyes upon the grizzly she had only heard moments ago, the creature in a clear hostile state as it looked for a way out of its current predicament.

The sun had nearly risen by now, and it would not be much longer until all the hard work the princess had put into lifting the witches’ spell was all for naught; all around her, she could hear the war party draw close to signal that they would arrive here any moment now. She struggled to rise to her feet, several groans of immense pain escaping her as it become quite clear she had broken at least a few bones in her body; fueled purely by adrenaline, the princess slowly limped her way over to the creature, her dead arm dragging the tapestry behind her.

Jus’ a lil’ farther...

As she drew closer, blue irises would meet the black ones belonged to the bear, sending the creature into a less hostile state; a few more hobbles would see her finally come face to face with the grizzly bear, the archer using the very last ounce of her strength to drape the creature in the tapestry.

“We did it mum’!” the princess would exclaim with joy, pulling the beast into a hug as the now fully risen sun began to slowly warm her skin.

One moment would pass, followed by another, it was growing quite clear that something wasn’t right; the red head would flutter her teary eyes open to realize the misfortune that had befallen her. At the very bottom of the tapestry tear lay a gap that would have been drawn shut with a single stitch of the thread; she had failed to mend the bond that had been torn by pride.

“M-mum...?” fear consumed her voice, eyes gazing up toward the face of the beast that was once her mother.

She was met with a deafening roar, followed swiftly after by a shove to the mossy ground beneath her.

“Merida!” a voice screamed out, clearly belonging to her father who was rushing to the scene with his longsword drawn.

Her eyes would turn back to the grizzly above her, the last thing her sight registering being a massive claw swinging downward towards her.

I jus’ wanted te’ change my fate...

Coldness of tears began to paint her cheeks.

Followed by a warmth flowing out and around her throat.

Finally, there was nothing left but silent darkness.

Lucy Lipp

was a liquorice whip

who let it go to her head,

that she was loved,

and held above

the licorice sticks that were red.

She always laughed,

when the half of the bag

with red at the bottom remained.

Lucy never was grieved,

for she firmly believed

that black should hold red in disdain.

’Til a sweet ’Lil Miss

with a sweet ’lil wish

took Lucy’s bag home to eat.

Three cheers for black,

pulled first from the sack

still every child’s favorite treat.

But Lucy was tricked,

she only got licked,

’Lil Miss didn’t like her a little.

Lucy tasted like ash,

and was thrown in the trash

replaced by a packet of Skittles.

Missy put the red back

in their candy-store sack

to save for another day.

When Skittles were done,

red was better than none,

so she wouldn’t throw them away.

It all goes to show

that you never should grow

too sure of your place in the sack.

Lucy learned a hard truth,

not every sweet-tooth

cares for licorice, red or black.

So if you think

your sugar don’t stink

and you belong at the top of the list,

remember the riddle

of ’Lil Miss Skittles,

and her licorice tale with a twist.

It was like fate had twisted us into a whole new world. I could remember that last day many eons ago. I was the prince of thieves and Jasmine a true princess. I think of those crazy nights we had and remember what fun it used to be. Now I’m in an endless void of an eternity of indentured servitude. If it weren’t for that Damned Jafar and Iago I would’ve married the princess and became the Sultan. Yet here I am years later answering to foolish masters.. people used to worship genies. Now we are just second rate citizens. I hate that people made new technology. I mean what was so wrong with rubbing a damn lamp and getting three wishes? Now everyone can access a genie no problem because of these things called mobile phones. And what’s worst yet is that they got around the whole three wish thing because they created this new thing called the internet and it lets you download an app to skim more wishes off the top. My master currently is snooty rich kid who uses my wishes to torment poor children. And the only way for me to change masters is if their phone ends up being stolen or they say that they’ve been satisfied . I have been trying to get rid of this kid for the past three weeks!

“Brandon, my master, are you not pleased with the wishes I have granted you this far?” I’m trying to trick him into some sort of satisfactory affirmation.

“No! Now stop asking me that Aladdin. Or should I say Al-Dim! I’ll tell you when I will be satisfied and that won’t be until phones can talk for themselves”

Man is this kid stupid or what?! I am finally free of this idiot.

“So you’re saying once phones can talk I am free is that correct master ?”

Brandon looks at me haughtily and says

“ Yes and only then will I be satisfied”

I look at him and grin.

“Hey, Siri why is Brandon an idiot”

“I can’t answer that because my processor system can’t handle stupidity”

Brandon widens his eyes as he realizes he fucked up. I flick him off as I’m sucked into the computer codes and data of the world and float across the cosmos to my next master. Man I hope it’s someone clever this time.

You always see me: carrying the prince through blistering winds and scorching deserts, waiting for him to climb to the highest room in the tallest tower to save a complete stranger, and then let them kiss on my back so they can live happily ever after. What about my happily ever after?

I always enjoyed the days when the prince and I would travel through the woods, hunting deer or just lazing about on a perfect afternoon. Of course, that was always ruined by some two-legged female in one way or another. Now, there are some exceptions, from what I’ve heard around the stableyard. Khan, horse of Mulan, said his rider is a complete bada** while Samson, Prince Phillip’s horse, said they had to face a frickin’ dragon. Now I don’t know about you, but I would hate to be in that situation. We all know how Donkey turned out...

Angus, loves Merida. Scotland is beautiful and he admires her strong bow-arm. She hits the targets every time, he gloats. None of the other steeds are really worth mentioning except for Maximus. He’s loyal, smart and can fight as well as anyone, two-legged or otherwise. I look up to him.

If you’re wondering who I am, I’m the noble and gentle steed of Prince Charming. Many have said my name is Astor, but few know of me (or remember). Sure, Snow White is kind and everyone adores her, but she’s not the only woman in the Prince’s life. I was there first and ever since she came into our lives, I’ve had to listen to her incessant singing: making our courtyard filled with all kinds of wildlife, constantly; or while she cleaned the castle and did chores. I’d wish she’d bother Cinderella if I knew how annoying it was going to be. I’ve heard “Whistle While You Work”, WAY too many times. I feel like dunking my head into the water trough just to drown it out.

Not to mention the seven, VERY short, two-legged creatures. Every time they come over, it’s a complete nightmare. Thankfully, the Prince feels as uncomfortable as I do around them and saddles me for a ride into the nearby forest. A blessing indeed. Then, when evening comes and everyone leaves, I’m content in my warm stable. Blessed for being so lucky, yet dreading what the day will bring, now that she is with us. I guess Snow White is both a blessing and a curse.

#xjenvanx, #astor, #snowwhite, #princecharming, #horse, #disney, #challenge, #rewritedisney

Cindy looked out the palace window. She and her husband, the prince had another public appearance. It was an adjustment being in the public eye all the time. Especially, after a lifetime of being behind the scenes. Still, her new public role, six months now, had its benefits. She had started a crisis center for abused and neglected children. How could she not, after being at the mercy of her stepmother for all these years? It was a warm and welcoming place where children and teenagers could walk in and have qualified people listen to them and offer help and support. Cindy also threw her support behind the local animal shelter in honor of her friends who helped her get through the difficulty in her previous life. Thinking of the animals, she turned to the spacious gilded cage with her beloved mice who were now royal pets, safe from predatory cats. She lifted her favorite, Gus, out of the cage. She gave him a scratch on his belly and smiled at him as he ate a large piece of cheese out of her hand.

She pet Gus idly and then looked up at the clock. She had to start getting ready for that ball. She sighed, this was one of the toughest parts of her new role. Being out in front of everybody, plastering a smile on her face when sometimes she’d just like to sit in front of the TV and watch a movie with her new husband. They were still getting to know each other. It was sweet of him to offer to marry her, especially after just sharing one dance together on a crazy evening. He, they both, would have liked to go on a few dates, have a few conversations, and get more acquainted but Cindy’s situation was dire and the public demanded an immediate royal wedding. So, here she was, married to a virtual stranger, a sudden princess. She put Gus back in his cage and slipped on her elegant ball gown “I do like the clothes,“ she thought ruefully. She picked up her custom made high heeled pumps. “I’ve always hated my feet,” she said to the mice, “Too small to buy anything at the mall. I mean, I finally don’t have to clean all the time, have time to go shopping, yet I can’t find a decent pair of shoes because nobody has my size.”

Just as she slipped on her shoes, there was a knock on the door. It was her husband, the prince. He looked at her admiringly, “You look lovely. Are you ready to go?” She gave him a wry smile, “As ready as I’ll ever be. I know I don’t have a midnight curfew anymore but can we try to slip out early. Maybe get a pizza on the way home and watch that new Netflix series?”