Cupid's Blunder

 Once upon a time, a beautiful girl named Temple fell in love with an equally lovely boy named Troy. They kissed and knew right from the start that their love would last a lifetime.

"Oh, who am I kidding," Cupid mused to himself. "No one would believe this crappy kind of story." He wadded up the paper and threw it over his shoulder.

"Cu...you have to get out of this funk," Madison told him. Cupid and Madison had been friends since preschool, after their teacher, Ms. Potter falsely accused Madison of eating the class cupcakes. Cupid had seen his arch-nemisis, Brutus, hide them in the coat closet. When he told Ms. Potter what he'd seen, she hadn't believed him at first -- "Brutus has never done anything wrong, Cupid," she had said. But, when she looked, she found the cupcakes.... as Brutus was shoving them down his throat. Madison had been by Cupid's side ever since.

"I'm not in a funk, Maddie," replied Cupid. "I just need to get this story out, and nothing is working for me. The words won't flow."

"Well, maybe you just need some inspiration."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, you haven't been out in days. You've only been doing school work or moping around your room. Don't you think you need to get back in the game?  You know...target practice?" Madison winked and smiled at her friend.

"No, no, no," Cupid shook his head emphatically. "I am NOT going to do that. I have too much to do before I graduate. And if Mom finds out I'm playing around, she'll kill me -- or worse, make me go live with my dad!"

"Come on, Cu. We'll only be gone for a little while. Your mom will never find out. There are so many people who need love, and...well, you're the only one who can help with that."

Cupid hated that Madison could talk him into adventures so easily. He watched her twist her long, brown hair and wondered for the millionth time why they'd never dated. She was beautiful, exotic, and so not his type. At sixteen, he didn't know if he had a type, but the girls who wanted to date him at school were all blonde, short, and anorexic. He'd been on dates with a few of them; his mother even liked some of them. But not one of those other girls had ever made him feel what Madison did: out of breath, inadequate, deficient in so many ways. That MUST be love!

"Fine, but we're only leaving for an hour. Then I HAVE to get this done. Mr. Johanson's brutal grading system kills me." Cupid smiled at Madison, who winked back. They were going to have so much fun!

Two hours later, Cupid was ready to go home. He could find no human who deserved his arrow of love. The people he and Madison watched from their Bailey’s restaurant outside table quarreled, whined, or just plain looked ill. Couples didn’t hold hands; singles didn’t look up from their cell phones. No one paid any attention to those around them.

Madison noticed Cupid’s mood. “Okay, Tiger….you’re shooting the next person who walks by. Deserving or not….just shoot. Then we’ll watch what happens.” The gleam in her eye, devilish.

“You do know there are rules for this, right? I mean, I can’t really go around shooting people willy-nilly.”

“Don’t be so old. You sound like your mother.”

“I’m not my mother,” Cupid huffed.

“Well, then, there’s nothing stopping you from creating love today. Look….to your left. That girl with the red hair needs some attention. Shoot her, “ Madison chided.

“You’re crazy. What if she doesn’t want to fall in love?”

“Who doesn’t want to fall in love?”

“I don’t know….some people might not.”

“That’s not your worry. You’re job is to bring the love they didn’t know they needed. Right?”

Cupid knew she was saying the truth. But that woman just didn’t look like the kind of human to mess with. He didn’t know if it was her grouchy face or the weight of the bags she carried, but this lady would not receive his arrow graciously.

“Just give me the bow, and I’ll do this myself,” Madison huffed, tired of Cupid’s games.

“What, are you crazy? I’ll find somebody else. Quit hassling me,” Cupid shot back.

“I’m tired of sitting here waiting. I want to see someone get some love. I mean it’s not like I’m ever going to—“ She stopped abruptly,  her face growing beet red.

“Never going to what?” Cupid asked.

“Nothing,” Madison replied, angry now. “Just shoot somebody or leave. I’m tired of you always playing with people’s emotions and thinking you know who deserves love and who doesn’t. You know who deserves love? EVERYBODY!”

With that, Madison scooted out from the table, turning over her chair, and practically ran from the restaurant. Cupid watched her go, a smile creeping over his face. The answer to his unasked question glided through the air on the arrow he should have shot a long time ago. It hit the mark. His story was complete.

Once upon a time, a beautiful girl named Temple Madison fell in love with an equally lovely boy named Troy Cupid. They kissed and knew right from the start that their love would last a lifetime.

14 Potions

Instantly, Tabitha felt her feet leave the ground as she floated to the ceiling, bumping her heard.

"Ouch," she yelped, grabbing her crown as she bounded up and down. She heard the stampeding feet of her pursuer and immediately stretched her body into corpse yoga position. "Please don't look up. Please don't look up." she chanted silently to herself.

The footsteps outside the door halted, and Tabitha watched as the doorknob turned. Holding her breath, she felt herself begin to float toward the floor. Panicked, with the door opening stealthily, she took a breath, and darted back to the ceiling, hitting the bone in the back of her head this time. "Guess I know how I'm getting down from here," she thought, rubbing the tender spot.

"Gotcha!" Trent yelled, throwing the door wide open. Tabitha almost lost her concentration trying not to laugh. She clapped her hands over her mouth but began floating back to the floor as her breath stopped. (You don't really think about breathing until that's all you have to think about.) She closed her eyes and made herself breath in-and-out, in-and-out. Normally. Like this game.

"Tabitha?" Trent asked the air. "I know you're in here. I can hear you."

Tabitha watched him begin looking under tables in the lab. Bunsen burners, glass beakers, and petri dishes cluttered the table tops. Trent dragged his hand across the surface, the sound of glass breaking as the instruments hit the floor. "When I find you," he taunted, "you'll be sorry for this mohawk!"

Squeezing her eyes closed, Tabitha stifled the guffaw trying to escape her lips, and continued the chant in her head: in-and-out, in-and-out.

"Now what do we have here?" Trent asked the room. Tabitha opened her eyes to see her brother reaching for one of the vials. It was hard not to yell out, tell him to be careful. But to do that would mean giving up her position. She wasn't ready to end the game yet.

Trent chose a vial -- bright green, the color of a freshly mowed lawn or sour taste of a Granny Smith apple. He unstoppered the vial, smelled it, shrugged his shoulders and drank.

"Yuck -- nasty!" Trent shuddered. Right before he poofed into thin air.

Lottery Winner

Describe the room of one of the following: a high school student about to drop out; a cashier who has just won the lottery; a faded movie star who still thinks she's famous; a paranoid person, etc





   

 The bedroom holds nothing special, well, except an entire life. The walls, a pale purple-striped monstrosity opposite a solid purple one. The bed, canopied, houses fluffy pillows, a stuffed dog, an unread book. The periwinkle rug lies under the white nightstand. The diary, locked of course, waits to be filled in about the day's events. The window looks around the blinds, trying to feel the excitement hovering about.

     Pictures decorate the mirror on top of the dresser on the opposite wall. Faces from work smile and show how happy the resident is there. The polyester uniform -- light blue pants and top -- holds its place precariously on the edge of that same dresser. 

     Tucked in the pocket, the one on the left, is the ticket purchased with the dollar that didn't buy a drink at break. The walls breath around the ticket, in and out, in and out. Wondering. 

Surprise in the Woods

     It was the first day in the new house. Aunt Marge moved us -- my two sisters and me -- to her home town of Cedar Ridge. She thought it would be a better environment than the drug-infested apartment building where we had lived with our dad for the last six years.
     My sisters are Janine, the oldest at seventeen, and Shay, the youngest at twelve. My name is SaraAnne Wexler; I am fifteen, and A Little Too Big For My Britches according to Aunt Marge. I think she mans I'm cheeky -- always trying to find the correct word or phrase for a situation. Janine tells me I'm just a smart-ass, but that's just her Potty-Mouth attitude.
     When we moved to Cedar Ridge, I knew it would be bad. Starting a new school was never fun, but it seemed like the whole town knew we were coming. Aunt Marge had all sorts of "company." The first couple of weeks, the visitors were all her old buddies coming to remember the Good Old Days. Then distant relatives who came to gossip about my daddy. The next were neighbors, eager to find out about the city-folk invading their town.
     Well, I'm not really the lovable-hugable kind of person. I'm  much more like the prickly pear that Balou the Bear sings about in "The Bear Necessities." You know: sharp-tongued, but extra sweet in the inside?? I like things real -- I want to know the truth, even if it hurts. And I do not like surprises.
     After unpacking and arranging my one-small-suitcase belongings, I decided to go exploring. Aunt Marge has an enormous backyard filed with all types of Ancient Family Heirlooms," as she puts it. A quick look shows some amazing debris: a rosy-red wheelbarrow birdbath; my grandpa's antique (broken) Pinto that doubles as an animal shelter; rainbow-hued Japanese lanterns in the trees; and an amazing array of toilets and tubs. They all house flowers and plants, so I suppose that beautification makes them respectable (Doubt it).
     Once I hiked my way through the Forest of Folly, I came to a small copse of trees, bare from the fallen leaves. Jumping over the narrow creek, I saw a figure lying on the ground. At first, I thought it was a gigantic alligator, so I snaked my way across the leafy hill. Sloth-slow so I didn't wake the gator.
    "What the hell are you doing out here?" a scratchy old voice hollered at me from the left.
    "I'm exploring my back yard, moron," I yelled back. "Why do you care? Who are you?"
    She hobbled over to me, an old lady with a florescent yellow kerchief wrapped around her head. Her shuffling feet made so much noise, I had to shush her. "Lady," I whispered loudly, "you're going to make that alligator hear us. Hush!"
     She stopped mid-shuffle, doubled over, and started barking. Like, barking. And then she raised up and I saw her lips parted in a...a smile? "Oh, girly," she continued to chuckle, "there ain't no alleygator hopping 'round these woods. That thar is a deenosor." Her yellow teeth showed through the hole in her face.
     "A dinosaur? Why would a dinosaur be laying in the middle of the woods?" I asked. I didn't really want to keep talking to this lady. She scared me with her wrinkles and stringy hair.
     "Oh, hit's an old playground. Haunted, it is."
     "Haunted?" I started backing away, looking around for help from this strange old lady.
     "Ayep. Wanna go up, take a look-see?" she invited.
     I looked around at the trees, the creek, the leaves. No one would hear me if I screamed; I may break a leg if I just turned and ran. I hate surprises.
     "Sure, I guess. Is it safe?"
     "Nope. Ain't safe. But damn sure is fun!"
     She grabbed my hand and pulled me up the hill. The closer we got to my gator, I saw how wrong I was. The T-Rex, pale green and rusty from the weather, smiled at me. I found myself smiling back -- how stupid.
     "Looky thar," the old lady said as she pointed in front of us. "Hit's that old farris wheel. Ah, lordy. I used to ride that thang with my sweetheart ever summer. We had the best time getting stuck at the top." She leaned over, hand to her mouth, and whispered, "Ernie used ta sugar me up real good up thar." She cackled again. "My maw never liked him. Paw neither. That's why we never married. Back in 'em days, you was 'posed to merry who you kissed most." The wistfulness and melancholy for her lost love came through as she whispered, "Ernie was my man."
     "I'm really sorry about your troubles, ma'am...."
     "Coral. Name's Coral, like the color."
     "Coral...what a pretty name," I told her. "Well, I'm sorry for your troubles, like I said, but where are the ghosts? What makes this place haunted?"
     "You don't remember?" She looked straight into my eyes, trying to push a memory into my brain with the force of her thoughts. I shook my head, no.
     "Why honey," she said patiently, leaning toward me. "You're Ernie, come back to me. I knew you would. Some day, I knew you would."
     T-Rex smiled a welcome. Like I said, I hate surprises.