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09/15/2011

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Jacki Whitford

The December wind howled and screamed. My apartment windows rattled in fear. A cold chill seeped through the tiny cracks in the window ledge and whispered at my back. A tea kettle tooted and whistled that warmth was just a cup away.

Linda

'Shhhhhhhhh...'


I knocked on the door and whispered the code word, as directed.

“Ahem,” rumbled a voice from the other side. “you have to buzz yourself in.”

“Huh?” I blurted.

“Just whack that button on your left,” he barked.

“This is crazy,” my companion hissed. “I don’t like this scavenger hunt.”

“Hush,” I whispered.

A bell bonged when the button was pushed and the door opened with a creak. We shuffled into the dark foyer, bumping into bulky furniture that lined the walls. The room was absolutely silent, except for the steady tick-tock of a grandfather clock. I giggled to myself, feeling slightly jangled, but itching to know what would happen next.

The silence was broken with the loud POP of a champagne cork.

“SURPRISE!,” roared the room. Streamers and confetti filled the air as loved ones circled around, slurping bubbly and slapping me on the back.

“But, it’s not my birthday,”I murmured to my friend.

“Yeah, she purred with pride. That’s the surprise!!”

Jane

Kerplunk.....the baby fell on his rump
Yipee-Yi-AAAA.....Riding her horse across the plain
Flutter..eyelashes, b/4 she would mutter
EEEEKKK.....the mouse took a peek
Wham.....the door slam
BAMMM....got hit by a ram
STOP......yelled the cop
POW.......WOW!!!

Karen

Outside my window, there is a thickening thicket of towering trees. Spruce, I believe. It wasn't there yesterday. When I stared into the gloom of last evening, there wasn't a single sapling, nor even a scarred skeleton of a tree that once was.

Then that was before the Light, the snail trail of bilious luminescence that swept the sky this morning and spread a susurrous snow-like spore over the ground.

There have been no trees here for so many years, not since the Great Destruction. I saw a tree once, when I was a but a child. It was dying, its leaves long gone, its bark stripped, wood peppered with holes, amber blood oozing from every gap. Tragic, haemorrhagic tree.

Yet now there is a gambol of green, rustling and tussling in the breeze. A bird trills with ecstatic joy. Life has come back home.

Anji Hatfield

The leaves fell from the trees and ran across the sidewalk, pssss shhhooosh whoosh.

Anji Hatfield

The wind whispered in the trees, shhhhh.

Anji Hatfield

Smell the bacon, hear the bacon sizzle.
Bite, hear the bacon crunch.
Yum!

jillbadonsky@hotmail.com

Pssssssssst..
whisssper with me, secret dreams,
embrace my burden and close me near you,
life's alive in sizzling wonder,
reveal its senssses, hide no more.

Paula Boyd Farrington

Arrrrrr. Today is International Talk Like A Pirate Day.

Sploosh. Seriousness just walked the plank. Silliness steers the helm now with an unflappable sail.

Cheers me hearties — yo ho.

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