Saturday, 15 April 2017

The Easter Egg Hunt

It's Easter. I thought to write something about this time of year - doesn't mean it's all warm and fuzzy, though.


The burrow is all cute from the outside.

It’s got a door on it with a little pathway leading up to it.

And I suppose you think that lovely, white bunny with his purple, velvet vest, all trimmed in gold and with silver buttons looks just lovely and perfect as he scampers along – his little tail boppin’ along ever so cutely.

Does it ever cross your mind how he gets to look so cute?
Exactly where does he get all those eggs for the hunt in the village every year?

Who do you think makes them?

No, the parents don’t go out to the stores and buy them – that’s for the baskets inside the home. The bunny you see running away around 7am is the one who plants the eggs around the village – the ones your kids often find, as they happily run and squeal with delight at how beautiful they all are.
You don’t realise that the bunny doesn’t make any of those eggs. He’d never get his greedy little paws dirty with chocolate or sickly sweet candy. He doesn’t spend hours on end painting those china eggs only to have one flaw in one and have to throw it away.

That’s my work you all love to fawn over.

And you give him all the praise.

And besides, Easter isn’t really what you think. It sort of depends on what you believe in – whether you believe it’s the time Jesus died and rose three days later, or the worshipping of Ishtar (pronounced Easter) – either way, you’re taking a few days off to indulge in chocolate and worship something or somebody.

But really, I haven’t seen the light of day in... know, I don’t rightly remember. Yes, it’s been that long since I’ve been outside the burrow, since I disappeared from the outside world. But I am a Human Being – I do think people have just forgotten that I went missing when I was young; that they stopped looking for me when he grabbed my hand in the park and dragged me off to the burrow, leaving me there.
After all, a talking rabbit was a really cool thing when you’re a seven year old and your folks were far too busy to have another child. But from what I heard, my nanny was blamed for losing me in the park. The rabbit told me that they stopped looking for me.

I know for a fact that’s not true.

I had the door open a crack one day and heard some people sitting nearby talking (I can’t see anything normally past the door, just the meandering path and a road). They were around the corner.
“Do you remember when that child went missing?” an old lady’s voice asked.
Another just as old answered, “Oh my! Yes! The nanny was blamed and they still haven’t found the poor little soul.”
The first tsked, “They’d be all grown up now if they were still around.”
“Wasn’t that in the 40’s or the 50’s?”
“No... I remember it was 1969. The year of the first man on the moon.” The first replied, “Oh, look at the time, we must be going.”
The voices disappeared as they collected their brood of children and went home.
“And what do you think you are doing?” his voice snapped.
I turned, terrified, forgetting when he was going to finish his nap, “I just wanted to peek outside for a moment.”
His eyes turned red with anger as his ears pinned hard against his back, “And I have told you many times that there’s nothing for you out there anymore!” he pointed back to the darkened den, “Get back to work! And fix my vest, I have promo to do with a television station tonight. I can’t look all dirty as you left it last year.”
“I did fix it.” I held up his vest. It was all clean and new shiny buttons had been stitched on with gold thread, “I got new buttons.”
He looked at himself in the mirror as he tugged at it, the anger suddenly gone, “Very nice. Where did you get the buttons?”
“At the last market we went to.” I looked to my feet, knowing he didn’t like me socialising when we went shopping.
“Well, you did well.” He turned as he grabbed his basket filled with eggs that I had prepared for him on the table, “Time for me to go. Remember, keep the lantern in the window lit and the fire burning for the cameras to follow me home – and stay out of sight!”
“Of course.” I nodded.
The door closed.
I pulled out of my pocket a little remote control with a switch on it. Turning it from ‘off’ to ‘on’, I smiled. The tables were about to be turned on him. Inside the basket was a homing device woven into fibres of ribbon I had bought at the market as well as the buttons.
What Rabbit didn’t know was that I had been outside the burrow for about an hour that afternoon to place a little something for the ladies at the seat to find. It looked like a phone – but it wasn’t. It was a device to show where I was. It showed where Rabbit was... and it had all my details about what has happened to me.

Now, all I had to do was wait for him to return from the promo spot.

This will take about an hour.

By that time, the police will have found me, and then they’ll find him.

Problem will be what to do when they find out that the Easter Bunny kidnapped me to do his work. 

Saturday, 8 April 2017


This week, Chuck asked us to write the end of a long journey. This got me thinking that it takes a few weeks to get over a long journey... especially back in the days of yore. So, here you are.


With a sigh, I pulled on the reigns and the horses grunted. We had walked the last few miles of the way home; my home being this lovely place up against the forest wall.
I built it with my family – my husband, my son, my father – and now they were all done and gone with God and I am here on me own to toil the land, to live my days out in peace.
Climbing down, I ran my hand along the rump of the beast talking to him gently, letting ‘im know I’m here, I’m ‘is owner, we’re finished today – and he an’ he can now rest. I untie the harness from him bit by bit, and I feel him relax as I lead him out to the field next to my place. Then, I’m back to do the same for the mare. They’re partners you see, and I’m glad to say they get along so well.

I start to unpack.

Unpacking is the hard part. I don’t mind packing... it’s always kinda fun to find places for things. But unpacking is more tiring and I don’t really like it as I think it takes longer – or it feels like it.

This time I feel as though somebody’s watching me.

Yes, I’m uneasy about being here.

I escaped from it by the skin of me hide you see... a plague.

Everyone was droppin’ all around and I just threw everything in the wagon and took to the road – any road – that took me home!
Once out onto the winding, clear airs, I didn’t worry so much. I just thought of getting meself home and unpacked. I will wash what I can; and burn off the rest.

I will have to scrub me body until it burns to make sure I don’t have that plague. I would hate to have come all this way, only to find I caught it after all.

A day passes and I’ve burned me blankets I brought back with me, and some of the horse’s blankets – just to be sure. The house has been cleaned; and I had me three-monthly bath early – I will have to bathe every few days to keep meself cleaner than usual. I also burned all me clothes from me journey and have begun making new ones from cloth I had here at the house.

It’s been a week, and things are going well.

The horses are good.

I’m feeling good.

think I have avoided the plague from the city.

I’ve been sleeping with some mug wart in the bed and wild lavender and garlic from the field in my pillow; all of which help me sleep at night and clear my nose.

There’s somethin’ not right.

Into my second week and the horses are dead. I woke up yesterday and they were covered in the same sores as the people in the city and dead in their stalls. They’d been gettin’ weak for about three days now, but ...

Now, I’m sick. I’ve been throwin’ up me food, sweatin’ and have black lumps under my arms that weren’t there last week. I don’t know what it is, but ...

...oh the day is sweet outside.

...the birds sound so sweet...

...the sound of the King’s guards are approaching.

I hope they kill me before....

Sunday, 2 April 2017


This week, Chuck gave us a list of 10 one word titles to choose from. I saw this one, and just started writing... 

enjoy the ride!

It glimmered.

It glistened.

It beckoned to me from under that glass counter at the gem shop.

The Tourmaline pendant was meant to be mine.

Looking up, I asked for it politely, but inside my mind was swirling and screaming for it to be near me.
I was in love with a gorgeous, peacock blue stone set with silver wrapping around it, a loop at the top and a chain strung through the loop.

It cost me plenty.

But I didn’t care.

I wore it home and strange things began to happen.
I didn’t have bus fare, so got a free ride home... which I thought was nice of the driver. When I arrived home, I found it was my turn to clean the house, but my house mates offered to do it instead and said for me to get in and have a shower and put my feet up.

Why they offered I wasn’t sure... but okay, I did that.

As time went on, more and more things happened around me where I either got out working for things or what I normally found difficult, happened for me very easily. People were friendly, happy and really nice to me – some of them almost sickly sweet – and it didn’t occur to me that something was going on until the last minute... not until it was too late.
I was out at the markets some Saturdays looking for another Tourmaline just like mine – but I never found it. So, I returned to the store where I had found mine, but it had shut down completely.

Everything was gone from the windows.

The whole place was empty.

It was as though it had never existed at all.

A neighbouring shopkeeper came outside, “Can I help you?”
I pulled out the business card I had been given when I bought the necklace, “I’m looking for this place. I was here last week, but now the place is gone.”
She looked at the card, “Last week? That’s impossible. This place has been gone for over a year.”
I wondered exactly how that could be as she gave the card back to me and walked away. Looking back at the store, I noticed an alleyway running down the side of it. Without another thought, I walked towards it, taking it as the city sounds vanished into a void behind me; and I emerged into a private garden of used boxes, rubbish and bins around the back of stores.
A man was having a smoke out the back, sitting on a crate, when he noticed me, “Hey you can’t be here.”
“I was looking for a back way into this store.” I said showing him the business card, “I want to find another Tourmaline for my friend.”
He looked at my pendant, to the card and then handed it back, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but go up those fire exit stairs to the third floor and you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“How can I trust you?”
“I’m telling you where the owner is; and where she has been for over a year.” He answered before standing on his half-smoked cigarette and going back inside, “You know? I don’t know why I told you where she was... I felt as though I needed to.”

The third floor was one big empty space. I thought it would have been full of hallways and apartments; but it was a loft filled with boxes, a bed and it looked as though somebody had lived there for not just one year, but years.
“Hello?” I called, hearing my voice echo slightly.
“Who’s that!” demanded an old-sounding voice, “Who dares comes into my home?”
“A man told me where to find you.” I walked toward the voice to find a very old woman sitting in an equally old recliner in front of a fireplace. She turned and saw me and her look changed, “Ooh... it’s you. Enjoying your good luck?”
“Not really. Things are coming too easily to me; life isn’t a challenge.” I said, “But I was looking for another one like this but without the doo-hicky spell on it.”
Smirking, she blew the steam off her tea, “Goodie for you, you figured out that’s it’s got a spell on it.”
I looked around, found a chair nearby and sat, “Bad for me is that if I take it off, bad luck will hit me three-fold – I will most probably die or end up in prison.”
Putting her cup down, her eyes moved over to me nodded, “You’re smart. But you’re not talking like you’re under its spell.”
I pulled out of my pocket a little leather bag which stunk like dead eggs, “I have a bag of sulphur with me. I didn’t realise until I was at my university course and handled the sulphur that it was cursed. So, I made the bag up and have been carrying it with me since... that was three days ago.” Shoving it back into my pocket, I looked back at her, “Now, the only people who are affected by it are the people around me.”
She smiled, showing her yellowing, rotting teeth, “I’d love to give you one without a spell on it. But really, you took so long to figure out the spell. You took a year – not a week – to figure it out.”
“No. That’s not true.”
Rising from her seat, she pulled a receipt book from a desk drawer nearby, flipped through the pages, and handed it to me: “It’s there. You bought that thing a year ago. You got your scholarship. Your friends got married and moved away from you. You got into the course you wanted and you are succeeding greatly... and now you think it’s been a week?”
“How do you know how long it’s been?”
“What’s the date on the receipt?”
I read it out aloud, “29th, March, 2016.”
“Okay.” She took the book off me, “What’s today’s date?”
I looked to my watch where there’s a date marker, “2nd, April, 2016.”
“Wrong.” She said, “It’s been a year.” She turned the television on and changed the channel to the news service where they had the date in the corner. It read: “2nd, April, 2017.”
Thank the Gods I was sitting down!
“Now, who are you?”
“I am me.”
“No... look at the business card.” She said.
I pulled it out of my pocket, looked at it and saw there was a photo of an old woman on the front wearing a blue Tourmaline around her neck – one just like mine, “Hey you have one just like mine.”
“It is yours. It is mine too... they are the same Tourmaline.” She pulled from under her scarves and jackets, a blue Tourmaline. It was peacock blue stone set with silver wrapping around it, a loop at the top and a chain strung through the loop exactly like mine, “Now, if you take yours off, which one of us dies?”
“What do you mean?”
She smiled, “Do you and I die? Or does the world implode? Or both?”