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Creative Writing and stuff
03/02/2008 15:43:36 / full of life
Just some stuff....
When the Moon is Blue by Shawn Marie Hardy illustrated by Colin White
One strange night when I couldn't sleep, I tried but I failed at counting some sheep. I heard a noise that made me jump - an odd little scrape and a thumpety-thump. A shadow moved and caught my attention I wondered why, without comprehension, the curtains were swaying to and fro when I had bolted the window. Then, the next thing that gave me a start - a faintly audible beating heart. I thought of Edgar Allan Poe - his telltale heart and that old black crow. Then suddenly, perched upon my table, a gargoyle said, "hello, I'm Mable." I rubbed my eyes - I must be dreaming, then Mable the gargoyle started screaming. "I don't mean to scare you but I thought you should know. Four ghosts just flew in the window." My teeth started chattering - I started to twitch when just past the window, a broom and a witch. I know this sounds crazy but really, it's true. The moon in the distant sky had turned blue. I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry when the very corner of my eye caught a little red devil running around and he disappeared right into the ground. I called for my mother, but no sound came. I called for my dad with results much the same. So I pulled the covers up over my head then I heard the sounds from under the bed: moaning, groaning, a rattling chain. Whoever he is, he must be in pain. Then under the covers two glowing lights distracted my thoughts of this horrible night. Those burning embers under the sheets glowing red, and then redder than a bowl full of beets. With Poe as the theme it must be a cat but what flew from the covers? A vampire bat. Out the window he went, grinning a grin and the ghosts followed too, my head was a spin'. Then Mable leapt down and bade me farewell and she hasn't returned 'far as I can tell. As fast as they came, they left just as soon. Why they were here on that strange night in June I'll never know so I can't tell you but don't try to count sheep when the moon is blue.
copyright 2007
Silver planes draw grids across the sky Daffodils bow gently to greet the breeze Blue light bathes the countryside A place I wish to be
Simple days that pass like ships and all the people that traveled Woven in spirit - a long memory to die and then unravel
One surviving child came home with truths that could be told "The Freedom Generation is gone," she said, "and history was sold to puppets on the t.v. news." They talk and people listen The silver planes burst into flames and vapor trails glisten in shades of blue and black and red. This war shall not be won The Cloud Parade in masquerade the journey now is done.
With thorny rose and soulless shoes she came with the Northern Lights and disappeared into the mirror in the dead of the moonless night.
Listen now to the trickling sound - the vapor trail's poisoned stream. Silver planes cannot be found Daffodils die on the ground A wicked wild dream.
copyright 2007
In the Dreamtime
We went to the Dreamtime a place called Cape Illusion Across the land of the red sand tides and aborigine visions where the sun dissects the passersby in a race against the thunderous sky I know your name and where you are from How your puzzle pieces fall How chaos churns adventure from the gloom of the funhouse wall As bathhouse beauties call for you Laughing Sal mimics the kookaburra's call. You've wanted to ride the wind with me bareback to the city but your angel chains you to the saddle a prisoner of reality Laws delivered with speechless tongues to those who show no pity With wooden nickels we've made bail Demons come with swords and things to pluck you from a handmade jail and praise you for the songs you sing Flightless dreams upon the mantle replaced by a golden wedding ring Finite numbers fall from the trees You wake to find your senses Your curious thirst is quenched by these and what could be the chances that still a missing puzzle piece will find you in repentance. Of all the colors swirling 'round and washed up on the shore the red and turquoise labyrinth will beckon us once more And buffalo still roam the plains where the sun sets in the west The passersby wave a last goodbye their demons have been blessed in the Dreamtime.copyright 2007
I wrote this long long ago... I rememberour eyes locked,gaze focusedThat day we were blindedfrozen in time.Hands lockedlips meshed in passion's reign.Incarcerated - prisoners of will.A road followed without thoughtknowing we would fallinto the night we traveleda rocky path beneath usOne stumble hurling us into our demisebut for the timeinto each other.I remember hands flowing over your facefingers exploring the lines around your eyesthe scar on your lipyour thick wavy hairI read you like Braillewell rehearsed and memorizedthe days we left behind.
copyright - sometime in the 90's...
THE SOUNDS OF SUMMERBy Shawn Marie Hardy The summer air was hot and sticky. In her bed, Hannah turned from one side to the other and moved her legs to find a cooler spot on the sheet. She closed her eyes but sleep was the furthest thing away. Sounds were everywhere keeping her awake. The
crickets were singing their nighttime songs and the clock played its
steady rhythm as Hannah counted ticks and tocks, one-by-one. Then the house creaked and gave her a little fright. In the moonlit room shadows appeared larger than life and Hannah tried to keep her eyes closed. She heard a train in the distance. "Whoooooooo Whoooooooo," it sounded. A little breeze came through the window and tickled her skin. "How nice," she thought. Then it was gone and the hot still air hung on Hannah like a blanket. Firecrackers went off in a neighbor's yard. Some boys laughed and ran away. So many sounds when everyone is supposed to be asleep. Hannah lay quietly, looking around in her shadowy room. On the far wall she could see a head with very large pointy ears and long sharp teeth. Its arms seemed to be reaching for her so Hannah quickly pulled the covers up over her eyes. "Mom, there's something in my room," she cried. Mom came running in and turned on the light. "What is it honey," she said. "There!" Hannah pointed to where the creature had been but nothing was there except a doll on top of her dresser. The moonlight had made the doll's shadow look scary. "It's gone now," said Hannah. Mom smiled. "Isn't it funny what shadows can do? There's nothing to be afraid of here. You get some sleep or you're going to be tired in the morning." Mom blew Hannah a kiss, turned off the light, and went back to her own room. Her footsteps echoed in harmony with the crickets outside the window. A chorus of wind chimes rang unexpectedly as another light breeze teased the humid air. So many sounds when everyone is supposed to be asleep. The moon rose higher in the sky. Hannah shut her eyes, but the insides of her eyelids were like a movie screen playing all her thoughts back to her. She could see the swimming pool where she swam earlier with her best friend Cindy. Cindy's cat was resting on a lawn chair in a patch of sun. And
later, when they were jumping rope, Hannah remembered stubbing her toe
on the concrete and trying not to cry in front of her friend. How it hurt! In the end the tears felt hotter than the sun on her cheeks. Hannah
turned again, from one side to the other, just in time to catch another
breeze. She could smell a sweet, familiar scent. Jasmine, it's called
- a night-blooming flower. Imagine! Flowers that bloom in the night!
The air quickened and Hannah heard some papers rustle on her art
table. A little flash of light in the distance meant a storm was
coming. She could hear a low rumble of thunder, and a car alarm went
off somewhere down the street. A dog barked, and then, "Whoooooooo
Whoooooooo!" She never heard so many sounds when everyone is supposed
to be asleep.
Hannah got out of bed as another rumble of thunder sounded. Her toe still ached a bit, but she tiptoed down the hall to her mom's room and opened the door. "Mom, can I sleep with you tonight," she whispered. Mom pulled her sheet aside and moved over to make room and Hannah slid into her spot on the bed. Mom
leaned over and kissed Hannah's forehead. "You're so much like me,
aren't you," she said. "I can never sleep on these hot nights either,
but we're in for a storm. Let's lay here and watch the lightning show." As the storm grew closer, a gust of cool air parted the curtains as if to announce its arrival. Mom
pulled the curtains to the side so they could get a better view, and
then she and Hannah propped up their pillows and waited together for
what looked to be a grand performance. Lightning bolts darted across the dark night sky. They counted the spaces in-between thunderclaps, and then they listened as the rain tapped a steady beat on the roof. It was just enough to lull them to sleep. And all night long the sounds of summer played on. copyright 2007
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