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BALLOON SHIP

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BALLOON SHIP

I drew this about a year ago.

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The Lord Of The Manor’s Mermaid


MERMAID MANOR

      Whispers of mahogany danced in her brown eyes, like the shadows on a stony wall. They were wistful that morning, like a sudsy-washed out photo, that has been shut in a basement too long. Her hair was long falling, and a little un-kept with fuzzy, white tips, and dark brown threads lashing about in all directions. It had an ocean waviness still clinging to it. And her skin had that salty cleanliness to it. She had been in the ocean. And all that she wished for, was to be back in it. She stared out the window, at the waves crashing on the smooth, ivory, shore, her knees bunched up in he arms, and a overlarge tee-shirt on as a dress.

   “Ali.” Paton said, as he entered the room. She looked up dreamily, and without a smile. “Ali, Maj is ill. And so far you have not shown us how to make him better.” She rolled her head back to the window and stared at the waves again. The small boy rubbed his calve with his foot and sheepishly twisted at his index finger. “Please.” He whispered. “We only want this one thing.” Ali’s long, pointed ears twitched, and leaned back like those of an angry feline. “I will return you if you save him.” Paton said, fiddling with his top button. Her ears had pricked up the first time this was said, but the columns of empty promises gave no room for fresh hope, and they remained. She furrowed her brows and, then, felt the tiny, polite, pinprick on her shoulder of Paton’s hand “I will give you this as a promise.” Paton held out something small, and sparkly, that caught Ali’s eye. She looked over, and slid her slender, finger into the ring. “It is a promise.” Paton said.

Maj breathed heavy, his breaths were unsteady and sickly, his fur was matted, and  filthy. The dog was old, and ill. But Ali saw a spark of health, of intelligence. She began to sing. The song was soft, and pure, and as it unfurled the mermen words, so unrecognizable, yet so consoling, caused the dog’s uncomfortable breaths to slow, and steady, until it seemed like the most relaxed beast that had ever walked the earth. Paton leaned lazily against the door frame. His eyes shut slowly, like his lids were molasses. He loved Ali’s voice, so other worldly and warm.

      The promise was kept. Late at night, when the sky was a velvety black, and the stars were blossoming, Paton crept out of the manor. Opened the gate. And lead Ali out onto the shore. He in pinstripe pajamas, and she in her overlarge shirt. ALi slid her foot into the crystal water. Her face exploded into a grin, and her ears pricked up. She went crashing into the water, sending sparkling droplets in all directions. Paton stood at the shoreline. And watched as she disappeared into the dark, cold, water. And at last, reemerged, He smile aglow. Her hair, sleek, and wet, and her lags, now a shiny, slick fish tail, lashing about beneath her. And nobody would have suspected, that the lord of the manner’s mermaid, had been freed late at night, by his five year old nephew. 

Paton strolled the shoreline. His uncle long dead. His face aged, his childhood behind him, and the manor his. He looked into the water. Wondering if it truly happened, or if it was something he had imagined. The merfolk had disappeared. From legend, and perhaps from the world. But as if to assure him of their existence, a small sparkle caught his eye on the shore, and he withdrew from the sands, his aunts wedding ring. The one he had stolen, 40 years ago, and given as a promise. 

 

So, I just wanted to free write, and that’s what I came up with.

 

 

 

 

 


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Longest acrostic poem I have ever written. (read the bolded letters going down.)


Happiness
On most days,
Most days…? hmmm actually….
Everyday..

It’s not perfect.
So what? perfect is overrated.

Whatever though, it’s….
Home.
Everyone gathers here,
Rainy days? no problem!
Everywhere you look there’s something to do (sometimes to fix)

The point is,
Home is great.
Everyone should have one.

Fridge. it’s the real reason we love it at home.
Really though, it’s my favorite part!
It may have been a lie, what I just said.
Dairy products, and other foods don’t beat family.
Ghosts? People say they live there,
Eighty plus years is plenty of time for a house to collect spirits… but not my house

It’s not quite interesting enough for that,
Still interesting… but not that interesting.

Home.
A good place.
Home.
A place I can proudly call ‘mine’

You and me house! Forever!
Okay just until I move out. You’ll…
Umbrella me, keep my secrets, shield me from my fears (Burglars + stray cats.)

The best part about…..
Home is… that you can make a mess!
Okay, you always have to clean it up.
Under the stairs becomes your cave,
Game room? No! castle fortress!
Hose? No! Venomous snake!
Till dark you’ll play, imagine, grow.

In your very own house.

What a thing to have.
Outside and inside.
Unicorns? Certainly… Brooms? Not a chance!
Laugh here.
Dream here.

Secrets stay within these rooms… and that doesn’t mean you can bring in a friend…
And spill the beans!
You can’t! that’s against the rules!

Here we are safe and sound.
Even through tornados.
After we run into the cellar of course!
Really I do love my home now and…
Till the farthest reaches of forever.