I tried my best not to stare blankly but I couldn't help it.

"Uhh... I don't... have one." She gave a bright, beaming smile that seemed to cover all of her little face. Then, she looked at me like she knew a secret.

"I know," she said simply. I blinked.

"You know... what?" She covered her mouth cheekily and giggled, her big, blue eyes gleaming in the sunshine.

"I know what your favourite colour is!" she declared. She stared at me now, not in confusion like I had, but in confidence that she knew the answer.

"Okay. What is it?"

She told me what she thought my favourite colour was. With a chuckle and a spin, she announced it to the world. Although I never noticed it before, upon hearing her say the word, with that lovable smile and eyes filled with wonder, I realized it was everywhere. That colour filled the world, just as she did. The warmth and excitement it contained. It was present everywhere around and within her. And it was enchanting. And when she asked me if she was correct, I realized she was.

Though, between you and me, I really didn't have a favourite colour until I heard her say yellow.

Bouncing along

Singing my song

Smiling at nothing at all

Laughing and joking

Inside with myself

Really, I’m having a ball

Look at the sun

On this crisp autumn day

Lighting the leaves as they fall.

What could be better

Than walking this way

Feeling so happy and tall?

Music is playing

Body is swaying

Happy is all I recall.

Inside my head

Singing songs, like I said

Finally over my wall.

And into the garden of happiness.

And into my happiness garden.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_wdAD2dlDw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVnE3HHbaQo

Being an enthusiastic supporter of the “Dogs are People Too” movement, my dog General Sherman took up the position at the door last night to hand out Milk Bones to the Trick-or-Treaters. My wife and I had a great time trying to figure out if the kids found the biscuits to be tricks, or treats. Obviously, the lucky children with dogs at home would probably choose treat, while the sadder ones without a pet undoubtedly felt like Charlie Brown with his rocks.

Sherman had a great time though, so it was worth indulging him. He is slightly spoiled anyways, but not to where it is an annoyance. He did complain about having to set down his scotch and his cigar every time the bell rang, but he also partook of a Milk Bone himself for every one he handed out. Perhaps the scotch will help with his digestion in the morning, as the Vienneese say a beer helps with their schnitzel.

Sherman is very disappointed that dogs do not get to Trick-or-Treat. That is the reason he is giving out bones for the kids to take home to their furry siblings. He wore his orange and black Halloween kerchief along with a cowboy hat that made him look like the dashing, and fit John Wayne of the “Stagecoach” years... only shorter, and with a longer nose, and ears.

Pooky and I were glad when the kids were finally all home and General Sherman was able to settle into the sofa with his box of Milk Bones and his scotch to watch some football, as he was becoming too tipsy to properly man the door. I began to notice near the end of the night that the Disney Princesses were being better supplied with biscuits than the Spidermen. We should probably try to temper Sherman’s drinking, but hey... his bloodlines are superb, he is over three years old (which is twenty one in dog years), and should there not be some variety in a dog’s life? Especially a dog as advanced socially and academically as General Sherman is.

At least he’s not running wild with the bad dogs in the neighborhood, or sticking his face in skunk holes, so pull that mutt of yours off of my leg, climb down from that high horse you are riding, and let me spoil my own animal as I see fit!

“Sherman, raise your glass!“

“Atta boy! Here’s to everyone’s safe, and Happy Halloween!”

I breathe in the crisp, cool air.

Warm breezes rush against my skin.

The residue

of the morning dew

fingers through

my hairdo.

I kneel in a deep, long prayer.

The presence of God, I feel within.

My brown, bright eyes

close, shut tight

my heart delights

in Christ.

My lips close. Silence.

My mind calms. Silence.

My heart beats. Silence.

The sunlight shines upon the back of my head.

there is nothing more gratifying than

the bubbling laugh of a well placed joke.

you wink and my heart wants to sing ballads,

even if my voice is subpar at best.

i look at you and listen to ceilings

rise as they seek to fit your endless joy.

is this love? maybe.

it's certainly something.

I didn’t ever want it,

Or think I deserved it.

But as the days dragged on,

I began to feel the joy.

The words flowed freely,

And my spirits were lifted.

With each letter I typed,

My soul began to mend.

And I saw the great approval,

I felt the overflowing.

I could no longer ignore it,

The greatness thrust upon me.

The four year old girl in a sear-sucker jumper, carefully tip-toed across her rural home's front porch and hunched down next to her black Dachshund. She tightly hugged his head snug against her own in an embrace of strictest confidence. The child waited for her father to return from taking bushels of their garden’s vegetables to market.

A concerned look came over her face as she removed her pacifier and looked out off the plank-wood porch into the dandelion spattered yard. Crouching made the legs of her jumper deflate and completely cover her sandals. The stubby-legged dog's eyes widened and sparkled at the sound of the child's soft, whispering voice.

"Corky, shhh. Corky I loves you Corky" then quieter and quickly, "I love you." The pet shifted a front paw in response to her timid tone.

"Corky, I gots a secret I want to tell you." She went on, her eyes furtively scanning the yard and gravel road beyond. She nestled the neck of the Doxie closer.

"I don't want nobody but you and me to know it.”

Her home was a shingle-sided farmhouse, baked dry from years of southern exposure. Peeling window panes and grey, cupped porch boards revealed its long lifespan. Late summer temperatures seemed to melt the dog and child together, into a small huddled lump. Afternoon humidity curled the young girl's daffodil hair in damp wisps.

"I found sumpthin' Corky, I wants to share with you." The dog marched his front paws and perked his ears.

The young girl heard a muted buzzing and watched bumble bees bob between purple-topped weeds. Through the front screen door at the middle of the porch, the girl could hear the steady clicking of her grandmother's knitting needles mixed between the creaking sounds of her rocking chair.

"Com'on Corky, I found sum'pin' hiding behind the kitchen, com'on." The two waddled in tandem, past sloping, storm cellar doors and a faded brown rain barrel. There, on the back stoop, set out to cool on a chair’s woven cane seat, was a tin containing a massive cherry pie. Upon seeing and smelling the pie, the Dachshund released a short 'ruff'.

"SHHhhhhh, Corky, shush. Momma and Granny is gonna hear you." The little girl looked carefully around the corner of the house, then pulled the dog's head against her rounded cheek.

"This pie is just for us Corky."

With some difficulty she looped her arms around the dogs elongated middle and struggled to lift his front half to the stoop. Corky helped by hopping with his back legs.

"I'll feed you Corky, 'cause I loves you” She crumbled off a piece of flaky crust and let Corky’s bristled muzzle quickly gobble the morsel.

"Now it's my turn." The child broke a piece off that contained cherry filling across its bottom edge for herself. As she stuffed it into her mouth, cherry syrup dribbled down her chin. The eager Doxie quickly licked-up the dripping nectar, making the little girl giggle.

Hiding behind the kitchen window screen, the girl's mother and grandmother tried to stifle giggles of their own as they watched the pair of pie thieves at work.

#challenge_happy #short_story #flash_fiction #prose #childhood #pets #pie #simple_life #william_calkins

Bubbles blew in the air the summer light putting translusent rainbows in them. The light was warm against her skin and as she stood she could help but chase a few bubbles. It made her smile and maybe she was too old to be chasing bubbles around but you're never too old to do what makes you happy. Her skirt ruffled as she twirled and all she could do was stand out amongst the greens, yellows, baby blues, and rose pinks like a monarch butterfly in a garden. Beautiful amongst the overnight summer.

"Push!" Dr. Gemo ordered Deina.

I watched the attendees rushed about as my wife squeezed my hand so tight I nearly lost all cirulation in it. Struggling through the pain, Deina persured and then I heard it. The faint sound of a baby crying. My baby. My son.

While he made had been covered in some of the most gruesome blood, the doctor still asked me if I wanted to hold him. And I still said yes.

I cradled him in my arms. While I was gazing in his hazel eyes, I felt tears arise in my own.

My son had the tinest hands in the entire world. He wrapped his petite fingers around my finger. They were so small, so fragile.

I know in that moment, I would do anything to protect him. Trudge through muck, and messs, and hardships alike to reach him. My son. My sunshine. My happiness.

The soothing heat calms my nerves,

As waves gush from underneath,

The water rises around my hips.

I sink further in.

My eyes blink slow,

Allowing myself to bask in the daylight

That's cascading in.

Sweet smoke burns softly beside me,

Gushing out holes of the burner

In creamy silked plumes.

A balmy glow fills my heart,

And i feel so much love for myself,

So much inner peace.

And it's okay.

Everything will be okay.