"What Is It?" - Maya

They were hunkered down in a tight little knot in the clearing, all skinny-legged, skinned knees, brown summer bodies. The four of them. It was amazing that by this hot late August afternoon they were all still playing together. Every day since school let out they'd seemed to triangulate, three against one, and every day in a new configuration. Today Marcie was the odd one out. Surprisingly, this happened relatively rarely. Surprising in that she was the only girl. Conventional wisdom would have her be the isolated one most of the time, but conventional wisdom didn't hold in this case. Marcie got along well with everyone. But today she had really wanted to go to the pool, not into the woods. She'd been outvoted, so she'd grumbled as she'd trailed along behind them. It was too hot, she complained.

"Yeah, but it will be cooler in the woods," Davie had argued.

"Better be," she'd mumbled back.

Now they were in a clearing, out in the direct sun, but even Marcie was too fascinated to notice.

"What is it?" she asked.

The others shook their heads or hunched their shoulders. Sean poked it with a stick.

"Maybe it's an alien," he said.

"A dead alien," Davey replied.

It was small. No bigger than a cat or skunk, or maybe a possum. But it wasn't any of those. Its back legs were longer than the front ones, and five-toed. Kind of .... human. It only had one eye left, but that one was large and round.

"Hey, know what I just realized?" Frankie said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "It doesn't stink. Shouldn't it stink?"

Frankie would notice something like that. He was the quiet one, the observer. Frequently the odd man out in this group of extroverts. But he could be stubborn. He stuck to his guns. The other three admired that in him, and although they never said it, they all thought of Frankie as "the smart one."

"I didn't think of that," Sean acknowledged. "Maybe it is an alien, and thier bodies don't stink."

"What'll we do with it?" Marcie asked. "Like, shouldn't we take it to a scientist or something?"

"I'm not picking that thing up," Davie said.

"Me neither," agreed Sean.

"Okay, let's bury it, then," Marcie said.

"Why? Then we'll never find out what it is," Davey retorted.

"I know," Frankie said. "I'll take a picture of it on my cell phone. Then we'll bury it. We can show the picture to someone to identify it."

They all agreed. But without a shovel or trowel or anything to dig with, they wound up just covering it up with stones and leaves.

They decided to go to Sean's dad. he worked at the university in the Physics Department. So, when he got home from work they descended on him . It turned out that his colleagues in Biology were intrigued, once the kids convinced them it was not a hoax.

The four of them were excited to take the scientists to the makeshift grave site. They found it easily enough. But when they removed the stones and leaves, what they found was nothing. Nothing at all. No trace. Not a bone, not a hair, not a scrap of DNA.

They never did find out what it was.


Prompt: "What is it?" 8/16/08

Science Experiment - JohnD

Belinda and Joey looked up at the hole in the ceiling. A small sliver of drywall fell from the edge of the hole, spiraling downward as a flow of dust descended upon them. Joey watched the piece of drywall flutter off toward the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen.

Finally, the poetically drifting sliver landed on the metallic frame of the launcher, which had just finished hopping several feet sideways, repeatedly bouncing off the wall, making deep gouges into it.

Joey had been aware of the launcher's post-launch maneuvers, but feeling safely out of its reach, he had paid more attention to the hole that now adorned the ceiling. The launcher was finished with its tantrum and sat comfortably entrenched inches into the wall. “Well, that was....fascinating,” Joey stated tentatively. “I mean, in an against-all-laws-of-physics kind of way.

Belinda was still analyzing the opening in the ceiling.

Joey squinted to focus his eyes farther up through the hole. “It went clean through the first floor. It looks like it went through your bed....That doesn't even seem possible.”

Belinda continually angled left, right, back, and forth to get the best possible view. “Yes, that's my bed all right. I can see daylight. It went right through the roof. I figured it had to. I mean, with the amount of force obviously involved. I think we really have something here Joey.”

“'We'?” Asked Joey. “You know, I wasn't really involved here in the scientific part of any of this. I'm the language arts type. It was definitely your invention, idea, design, everything. Wouldn't you say?”

Belinda didn't answer, still completely engrossed by the aperture they had just created in the ceiling.

Joey paused and then started up again. “So, as you speak of this event going forward, you would definitely want to use the first-person singular pronoun, 'I.'” Joey quickly ran his hands back and forth through his hair, stirring up a small cloud of white dust. “Anyway,” he continued, “you were right. It worked.”

“Okay, so you owe me a dollar!” proclaimed Belinda proudly. “You still think girls aren't good at science?”

“I'm not so sure,” resisted Joey.

Belinda's eyes widened. “You're saying that you don't owe me a dollar?!”

“Calm down, I'm not saying that at all. I mean, that was obviously way more than ten feet. I owe you the dollar for sure....Um, but wait a minute. Not to change the subject, but do you know what my main concern is at the moment?”

“What's that?”

Joey looked back up at the hole. “That bowling ball. It's going to have to come back down, right?”

“Hmmm, good point,” Belinda said, bringing her hand to her chin in concentration. “Yeah, I should have thought of that by now. It's just that it was so unexpected. I was thinking that it might go 10 to 15 feet up in the air, but that sucker must've launched 500 feet, maybe. Or who knows? Maybe we just turned that bowling ball into a satellite.”

“'We' again?” asked Joey, throwing his arms up in the air slightly. “Anyway, my point is that you might not be that great at science. Better than me of course since I'm just a literature kind of kid, but you're the one who said, against my advice mind you, 'let's put the bowling ball in the launcher then move it outside.' In hindsight, you gotta admit that doesn't seem too smart.”

“Well,” growled Belinda, looking at the launcher smashed up against the wall across the living room, “I was just trying to save us an extra trip. Besides there's no way it should have launched by simply placing the ball into it.”

“Proving my case.” Joey spoke slowly, articulating his words. “Are you good at science or is your contraption possessed? Divine intervention perhaps. Maybe it was just dumb luck.”

“Dumb?” Belinda snapped.

Suddenly, they heard a whistling noise from above that was quickly increasing in volume. They each took a step backwards as the bowling ball came crashing back through the same hole, blasting by them in a blur, and driving deep into the wooden floor, sending splinters flying and vibrations rippling throughout the house. A new and thicker cloud of dust emanated throughout the room as the thunderous noise of the crash started to spread outward beyond the walls of the house.

They looked at each other, mouths agape. Joey gulped. “Darn it! I got sidetracked. I just mentioned the ball coming back down and then forgot all about it.” As he spoke, he looked back and forth from the hole in the ceiling and the ball in the floor. “Another thing, how is it that the ball came down through the exact same hole? I mean, exactly.” Joey coughed as he tried to swat away the chalky powder in the air. “That came down not even an inch off the path that it went up,” he said as he pulled a one inch splinter of wood out of his shirt. It pierced his shirt at the collar, passing halfway through before coming to a stop. “By the way,” he said smiling, “this missed my jugular by a centimeter.” He held the piece of wood between his fingers before flicking it to the ground.

Belinda looked at the bowling ball lodged deeply into the floor of her living room. “Yes, this is a very positive development, I'd say.”

“Positive,” Joey repeated. “Funny, I was thinking of a different word. But you know us language types, we're always obsessing on semantics.”

“There's a lot going on here,” Belinda continued. “Sorry about your jugular....um, that could have turned out not so well. We got the bowling ball back, though,” she said cheerfully. “That's good news. And coming down the exact same path, that could be huge: another totally unexpected result. I wonder if that was a one-time deal or an aspect of the launcher's design. If it's consistent, there's just gotta be some real world application for that.”

“You know what my concern is now?” asked Joey.

“What's that?” inquired Belinda as she noticed an inch wide piece of floorboard wedged deeply into the base of the leather couch.

“Well, I'm just wondering if I can get out of here before your parents get home. I'm sure you all will have lots to talk about.”

“Yes, Yes,” Belinda agreed. “This is so big. We have an absolute scientific breakthrough here.”

Joey cringed as the word “we” left Belinda's lips. “Yeah, YOU definitely deserve credit for that.”

Belinda turned toward Joey and grabbed him momentarily by the shoulders. “I don't think you grasp the significance of this discovery. We'll be famous for this, and rich, too.”

“Rich?” asked Joey as his he stood up straighter. “How rich?”

“Very!” replied Belinda as she performed a cursory examination of her clothing and body, looking for splinters or wounds of any kind. “It's like we've tapped into a previously unknown energy source. Everyone's gonna wanna talk to us.”

“You mean, besides the police and fire department?”

“Everyone,” repeated Belinda, swinging her arms out in opposite directions left and right as she spoke, “talk shows, physicists, corporations, everyone!”

“Oh,” said Joey looking off into space with a smile, “well, WE did work hard on this experiment.” His gaze drifted toward the hole in the ceiling, which instantly snapped him out of his daydream. “Well, until the money starts flowing in, I hope your parents can see the other positives of the situation.”

“Of course,” agreed Belinda, “like the pure merit of this scientific breakthrough.”

“Yeah, like that.” Joey nodded. “They might also see that 12-year olds, even if they are scientific geniuses, which is debatable, really aren't responsible enough to be left home alone, so hopefully they'll chalk this all up to a learning experience.”

“You are the practical one Joey, that's why it's nice to have you around,” Belinda said as she blew a puff of air upward dislodging a fine layer of dust from her face.

“Good, so remember to cite the positive when discussing this matter with your parents. Okay Belinda? You with me on this?”

“Okay, cite the positive. I will.”

Joey started patting down his clothing to beat off the dust. “A big positive here is that we didn't get hurt. I mean, just look at this place. And you and I don't have a scratch on us. That's a miracle. I hope your parents are appreciative of that fact.”

“Don't worry,” assured Belinda. “My parents will be very grateful that we're both okay. They'll also be proud of this little science experiment. It really is a doozy. Unprecedented, I would say.”

“Well, good luck with that,” said Joey with a nod as he walked backward toward the front door. “I would say no reason to mention me in any of this. Um, well, at least until Oprah calls.” Joey backed up bowing and nodding as he occasionally glanced backward trying to negotiate furntiture and the two steps up to the entrance hall. “But if, uh, you do feel compelled to bring up my name, remember that I said, 'let's bring the launcher outside first, then put the bowling ball in it.' You know, um, I think that's an important point.”

Belinda smiled and nodded, looking up proudly at the hole in the ceiling.

“So, anyway,” Joey persisted, “I'll be moseying along. Congratulations. It really is an impressive experiment. It should win first place at the science fair for sure.”

And with that, Joey turned around, opened the front door, and launched out of there fast and recklessly, kind of like a bowling ball.

Black Cast-Iron Wood Stove - JohnD

“Our getaway cabin,” we'd named it so.
As father would drive, mother smiled and eased.
The radio played as healing winds breezed.
But for the stove, mom delighted to go.

She clashed with that black cast-iron wood stove.
It didn't like cooking, so everything burned.
But through the years, it taught and it learned.
Oh, “our getaway cabin” at Meadow Grove.

We got the call on Friday, how mom cried.
We drove out and sure enough everything burned.
But for the stove, all was ash, all was stern.
That day it seemed a part of mom just died.

Yet, the stove looked new with a thick, rich glaze.
Mom bowed before it in honor and praise.


--

Listening to the Radio - Kevin

Above: night sky, late summer. A thousand twinkling pinpricks decorate black velvet.

Below: the '75 Camaro. Four friends and twelve beers inside. And the radio plays.

They talk and laugh and drink and spill. They turn up certain songs and change the channel when others come on. There is nowhere they'd rather be than here, now, with each other.

Finally, when their song comes on, the song, the best song ever, they all shut up and listen. The one of them starts singing along. Then they all do, eyes clenched shut, voice projecting emotions none of them have fully encountered yet.


To read the rest go to: http://sportpastime.blogspot.com

Bill Martin reads Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?

i thank You God for most this amazing day - JohnD

Sherry had to admit that the scenery was breathtaking. They were hiking up Half Dome and she drank it all in: the light summer breeze, birds chirping in the distance, and the magnificent everything: the blue sky, the beautiful view of trees and mountains, just everything, absolutely everything. It was as if she heard the music of nature, of life, of God. She was alive and feeling one with the earth when chaos intervened in the form of Evan Denton.

“I thank You God for most this amazing day,” he boomed.

“Damn it!” thought Sherry. In her own mind, she screamed, “Your so pompous, Evan!” It was all she could do to not say it aloud. All day he had been quoting Shakespeare and other famous poets and writers. Sherry was an oxymoron of emotion: caught up in the unbelievable beauty of her surroundings and disgusted by the snobbery and arrogance of Evan's constant quoting.

“Should I really have agreed to this double date slash hiking trip,” she asked herself.

Sherry sensed that Doug and Emily were quite content with the whole situation. “Either that or they're really good actors,” she reasoned.

“Who was that from?” Emily asked as soon as Evan recited the “amazing day” line.

Sherry shot a dirty glance in Emily's direction as if to say, “Don't encourage him, you traitor!”

Emily gave Sherry a wink and laughed silently.

Of course, Evan obliged by answering, “E. E. Cummings.” And naturally, he continued sharing more about Mr. Cummings and reciting more lines from his various works.

“Do Emily and Doug really like this Evan guy or are they just willing to put up with him because they think that I am this desperate to date someone?” Sherry questioned.

During the hike, every time they came across a fork in the road, Evan would recite a line or two from Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken. “Great!” Sherry would tell herself. “Evan the smug strikes again.” During the drive to Yosemite, Sherry had come up with the “Evan the smug” moniker. With the four of them in the car together and Evan dominating the conversation, it helped to pin that nickname on him. But at this point, mocking him privately had lost its anaesthetic effect.

At the moment, Evan seemed to be stuck in an endless loop about E. E. Cummings. Sherry tried to block out his voice as they continued their ascent. She focused on the variety of scents that drifted to her. She could hear the music of nature again.

For no apparent reason, Evan spoke louder than even before, breaking Sherry from her day dream state. Sherry heard him blathering on about nature and flowers or something another. She had no idea who he was quoting now. “How interesting,” she thought, “the sentiments from the lines he's reciting mirror my very feelings about this place. So, why does he annoy me so much?”

As Evan continued relentlessly, it seemed to Sherry that he was starting to affect an almost British accent. She calmly looked for a ledge to throw him over.

Without even a token effort to converse, Evan pontificated and lectured with increased enthusiasm and bravado. Try as she might, Sherry couldn't block him out anymore. She felt depleted, drained of all energy and hope.

But then, a miracle. Evan's voice started to get raspy. “Whoa, something's wrong with my voice,” he said, touching his throat. He continued to talk for a while, but his voice was getting quieter and quieter, and raspier yet. Doug and Emily seemed quite concerned. Evan insisted that he could continue with the hike, however. “I'll just have to not talk,” he said almost inaudibly.

And with that, Sherry raised her hands to the heavens and proclaimed loudly and clearly, “i thank You God for most this amazing day!”

White Carpet - Maya

The view was spectacular, just like she'd said.  Windows ran floor to ceiling, and the view ran from the Bay Bridge to the Golden Gate.  It didn't hurt that the apartment was on the 7th floor. Nob Hill was high enough to see the Bay as it was, but this place was pretty much above everything.  Alcatraz was right there, and even the weather was perfect - no fog to interfere with the panoramic vista.  Really, spectacular.

What I hadn't expected (and amazed me as much) was how she'd decorated it.  Everything was sleek and modern, white and stainless steel or glass.  White couch, white chairs, glass bowls on glass tables, crystal decanters on glass shelves and white carpet.

"Well?  What do you think?" she asked.

"It's spectacular, honey," I replied.  "Absolutely spectacular."

She clapped her hands together and grinned the broadest grin her thin face allowed.  "I know. Come, sit on the couch and catch the view.  Want some tea?"

"Sure,"  I replied, plopping down on the plush white cushions.  What I was really thinking was, "How can this be my child?  Could we possibly be more different?"

Here I was in a peasant skirt and sandals (which I now checked to be sure I hadn't tracked in any dirt onto this pristine white carpet).  I mean, my house was all wood, old carpets, funky ethnic folk art and color, color, color.  I realized that kids sometimes separate from their parents by choosing radically different lifestyles, but this was astounding.  My daughter, my little girl, had opted for pretty much everything I had rejected - money, prestige, upward mobility.  It's not that I had anything against money - it sure made life easier.  But this!

"Come on," I told myself.  "You knew where she was headed."  The writing had been on the wall since junior high school.  And look who she'd married ...  The world of high finance made no sense to me, but it brought her this apartment, this view, this life in San Francisco in which money helped a great deal.  Was, in fact, necessary.

Her daughter came back carrying a tray with teapot and cups.  Italian.  Williams-Sonoma.  Now, those she liked.  They didn't exactly match the decor.  In fact, they reminded her of that trip to Tuscany and Umbria.  Lovely.

"It's Earl Grey.  You like that, right?" her daughter asked.

"Sure.  You know I like most teas."

"So, what do you think?"

"I could look out this window forever."

"I know.  It's amazing at night, too.  You and Dad have to come for 4th of July.  They have fireworks right off the pier down there.  The neighbors tell me these are the best seats in town."

"Nothing but the best!"  I said.

"Mother, don't start," she retorted.  "I know you think this is all shallow materialism, but it's my life and I happen to like it."

"What?  What did I say?"

"Nothing," she grumped.  "But I can tell."

"Honey, I'm not sitting in judgment."

"Aren't you?" she asked.

She was right, but I wasn't going to admit it.  "I think it's gorgeous.  I'd just be scared to death mess it up, but I don't have to live with it.  If it doesn't bother you, it's great."

"See?  There you go!" she said, jumping up.  Her elbow connected with her teacup and Earl Grey spilled all over the carpet.  The white carpet.  Dark tea.  She looked at me, eyes frozen wide like deer in the headlights.  I said nothing.  Finally, she ran into the kitchen to get something to clean it up.  

I wondered if the stain would ever come out.

Prompt:  White Carpet, 7/5/08