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Over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/12/30/week-53-of-odd-prompts/
AC Jones prompted

Perhaps asking the vet to give the pet unicorn a check-up was a bad idea.

Let’s see. The odd prompt this week was... ah, asking the vet to give the pet unicorn a check up wasn’t a good idea? Hum... I have a piece somewhere about the Hollywood vet, working with made to order pets. But this could be the other way around, letting the vet be surprised by a unicorn.

Let's see. Genetic mod unicorn? Surprising the vet with a unicorn. Oh, what if the child believes that this is a unicorn, and the vet insists on disabusing her of the falsehood? Or, what if the vet turns out to need the belief? Hum... lots of possible directions to go with this... Okay, let's give one of them a shot...

A Unicorn in the Back 40? (550 words)

By Mike Barker

Helen shook her head. The Wendel family insisted that she come out to their farm to check out their new family pet? Well... they were regular customers, with their rabbits, cats, dogs, and all the other pets. And she did enjoy visiting their farm. It was well kept, even the chickens got cleaned up nicely and fed. So...

She enjoyed driving out to their farm. The cows in the fields, corn towering in another field, sun shining nice and warm over all. The kind of afternoon when you think you can almost hear the world humming at peace with itself.

Then she turned into their drive. It was winding, with a nice little grove of trees, and she almost felt as if she was somehow driving out of the everyday world into another one.

The barn sat on the right side of the parking space, their farmhouse, an old whitewashed rambling house on the left. That left them a space in the middle that was fenced in. As soon as she parked, two kids ran out of the house.

"Oh, you're here! Great! Fred really needs a checkup, because mom says we can only keep him if you say it's okay."

Helen laughed.

"Okay. So... where is this Fred? And where did you find him? You've had skunks, even that weasel, and your mom isn't sure about this one? What, did you find a snake?"

The kids laughed.

"No, Fred isn't a snake. Come on, he's in the barn."

She followed them into the barn. And stopped dead in her tracks, looking at what was standing in the stall, posed in a beam of sunlight slanting down from the hayloft overhead.

Shining white, like a young pony, with... a silver horn thrusting up. The mane over the horn curled nicely around its base. It blinked big, blue eyes at her.

She finally got her voice working again.

"That... That's a unicorn."

Both of the kids nodded. The unicorn nodded.

The boy said, "That's Fred."

She started laughing.

"You got me. That's really a horse dressed up, right? You bleached its hair, stuck a fake horn on its head, and..."

All three of them shook their heads.

The unicorn pranced forward, and lowered its head.

She walked closer, and looked at how the horn was attached. She reached out, and pushed the mane back. Darn, that was a real horn, with its base solidly growing out of the skull. There was even a buttressing growth of the skull to support it.

"Okay, I'll bite. Where did you find it? Who have you told about it?"

Now the three heads shook again.

"Oh, we can tell you where we found it," the girl said. Edna, that was her name. She continued, "I was out in the back 40, where that little stand of willows is. I go back there, and draw. Usually unicorns, actually. So I was sketching one, and... he stepped out of the shadow, and posed."

The boy said, "But we haven't told anyone outside the family about it. In fact, you're the first person we've told."

She grinned. "And I'm going to tell everyone! Newspapers, TV..."

The unicorn lifted its head and snorted.

The boy said, "Nope. If we start telling people about Fred, he's gone."

The unicorn nodded, once.

[bleep... got to go do some work, but this is coming along nicely... maybe more later...]

Over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/11/11/week-46-of-odd-prompts/ Becky Jones prompted

The day started out normally enough. But, when you climbed the stairs up from the subway station, you did not expect to see ____ (whatever/whoever you like) waiting for you. And certainly not wearing the purple hat!

Hum, who or what was waiting for you. Up from the subway... which city?

That Purple Hat! (400 words)

By Mike Barker

Harold snorted, rolled over, and looked at the clock. Oh, man, where did that dream come from? He blinked, and thought about it. Okay, the dwarf or troll or whatever was... Well, Lord of the Rings and lots of other fantasies had people like that. Heck, he had seen that documentary on the Munchkins from Wizard of Oz the other day. So the little guy who wanted to shake his hand, that was just that kind of thing rolling around in the back of his head. What was his name? Gwibble? And that hat? Well, wasn't there one of them that dipped his hat in blood so it was red? Purple... heck, he liked purple, so why not. He chuckled, and closed his eyes again. Just another short nap, then he'd have to get up and get going for the day.

Breakfast, a big glass of juice, cornflakes with honey and milk. Shave, brush your teeth, shower. Oh, shoot, he was running out of shirts. Have to do laundry soon. But... grab the coat and get going.

The crowds in the subway were always there. And... this was his stop. Push his way out the door, follow the crowd, out the turnstiles, and up the stairs.

As he walked into the sunshine, he blinked. And blinked again, as a short figure stepped in front of him and lifted its arm in greeting. What? Gwibble? And... he shook his head. He was wearing that purple hat, the purple cowboy hat! Seeing it in the sunshine, he realized it was jeweled, with rhinestones, so it glittered!

He looked around quickly. No one else seemed to notice the dwarf standing in front of him, even with that outlandish hat.

"And a fine good morning to you, master magician!" Gwibble said, grabbing his hand and shaking it.

"What? How..." Harold gabbled.

Gwibble chuckled. "Ah, I must be your first. You see, some of your people are able to bring us across, out of the dreamlands, and into the world you live in. And, clearly, you are one of them! So, you've brought me to this fine country, where I shall live from now on."

Harold closed his eyes, squeezed them hard shut, and then opened them again. No, the dwarf was still standing there, smiling at him.

(whoops, no time to finish this... but it does seem like a fun beginning! Thanks!)

Over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/09/23/week-39-of-odd-prompts/ Leigh Kimmel prompted...

You’re working on a project you’re running late on, and you hear a loud *thump* outside. You look out the window and see…

Stop the Clock!

By Mike Barker

Harold glanced up at the clock, shook his head, and looked at the lines of code scrolling across the screen. He was working as fast as he could, scanning the existing code in one window, typing madly on the keyboard in sudden bursts of new code and modified code in another window, but he didn't think he could get done in time. He hated being late.

"Ye gods, I wish there was some way to stop the clock."

There was a sudden thump outside. He stood up and looked out the window. It wasn't much of a window, programmers didn't get the best offices, but…

What happened to his view of the parking lot? As he looked out, there was a… Some kind of strange mechanism, with… Was that a harpoon? Some kind of spear, anyway, jammed into the gears. And there was a guy in a leopard skin holding it, looking up at him. Then the guy waved at him, and…

Suddenly, the guy in the leopardskin was in his office. With a great big smile.

Harold looked at the clock. Wait a minute, it wasn't moving. In fact, the secondhand was frozen in place. What the heck?

He looked at the guy in the leopardskin, who chuckled.

"I'm glad you saw that," the guy said, in a deep bass voice. "I stopped the clock for you."

Harold blinked, and shook his head.

"You did what?"

"You asked the gods if there was some way to stop the clock. Well, I'm one of the gods, and I stopped the clock for you. That's what you asked for, right? Now you'll have a chance to finish that job you are working on. In fact, you can take as much time as you like. Well, it's not exactly time, since I stopped time everywhere else, but for you, it will feel like you've got all the time you need."

Harold looked up at the ceiling, then down at the computer.

"So, my computer works. But what about if I need to check..."

The guy shook his head. "Sorry. Your computer, you, your books here in the office, but… That network thing? They are all frozen. You can't send a message out to them, and of course, they aren't going to send you a message. So no, you can't check outside."

Harold rubbed his forehead.

"Is this some kind of hallucination? Did I crack up under the pressure? Who the heck are you, anyway?"

The guy looked at his feet.

"I doubt you've heard of me. I'm Kronos. God of time and space?"

Harold bit his lip.

"Actually, I think I have heard of you. Chronological, chronometer, we still use your name to talk about time."

Kronos grinned.

"That's me! You do know me!"

Then he looked up and held out his hand.

Harold finally reached out and touched his hand. It was a warm, slightly rough hand. The guy squeezed just a little bit, and let go.

"So, you should get started. I mean, some of the other gods are going to complain that I stopped time. So let's make good use of this little pause."

"How long do I have?"

Kronos waved his hand. "Until I pull out the spear again. As long as those gears aren't turning, the rest of the universe has no passage of time."

[no idea where to go with this, but...]

Over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/09/16/week-38-of-odd-prompts/

Becky Jones prompted

The metal rose sculpture on the end table turned into a real rose.

With a bit of playing, this is where I ended up...

The Artist’s Eye (320 words)

By Mike Barker

Helverson shook his head, and stared at the sculpture. It was so close to his imagination, but not quite right...

Mandel, his agent, looked at the sculpture, and smiled. “Yet another masterpiece! I’m sure it will win awards, and sell for more than your other works.”

Helverson grimaced. No doubt it would, but...

“Okay, what does it look like to you?”

Mandel grinned. He knew Helverson would ask this question. Mandel looked over at the sculpture, then walked around it, looking at various sides and distances. Finally he shook his head and looked at Helverson.

“A horse’s head.”

Helverson nodded.

“That’s obvious. What is he doing?”

Mandel frowned. This was where it always got difficult.

“I... he’s biting an apple?”

Helverson shook his head.

“Don’t guess! If I did it right, you would know! You would see it, too.”

Helverson looked over at the metal rose sculpture on the end table. It was one of his early pieces, and people swore they loved it, but no one saw it like he did. As he watched, the metal rose sculpture on the end table turned into a real rose. He could almost swear that if he sniffed, he would smell the rose. Then it faded back into a metal rose again. Sigh. He worked so hard to get that effect, but so few people ever seemed to see it.

This one, for example. As he looked at it, the metal horse head seemed to shimmer for a moment, and there was a brief glimpse of a dark horse, neighing, but... no, it wasn’t there.

He waved his hand at it, and told Mandel, “Go ahead, take it away. It’s trash.”

Mandel smiled. “Your trash is art to everyone else, you know?”

Helverson shook his head. No one ever seemed to understand.

Maybe one day he would manage to make a piece that showed everyone both sides of his vision.

Someday.

The end

Over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/08/19/week-34-of-odd-prompts/ the prompt was

Follow your dreams. Taken Literally.

Here's what I came up with...

Follow Your Dreams (1100 words)

By Mike Barker

Wilbur wasn't sure when he saw the ad, but he decided to try it. What the heck, when you're out of work, you've got time, right? So he went into the campus and found the building. They handed him a bunch of forms. What he was mostly interested in was... yep, one week food and a place to stay, plus pay. Hey, that sounded good.

Then they showed him this room, they called it the dream lab.

The dream lab looked pretty much like any cheap dormitory or motel room. A simple bed, with a single chair beside it. The psychologist, Dr. Edwards, smiled when Wilbur said that.

"We want you to be relaxed, and a simple bedroom is better for that than a lab with electronic cabinets and shining lights. So, let me go over it again. I know you read the brochure and agreed to this, but I want to make sure you understand."

Wilbur shrugged.

"See, we're really teaching people how to fully experience their dreams. It's a simple process, and I think you'll enjoy it."

"So, what do you get out of it?" Wilbur asked.

"I'm glad you asked," Dr. Edwards said. "Basically, we are learning more about dreams. We may ask you to fill in a questionnaire, and we will be taking measurements of your brain activity while you sleep. That's what the net is for."

Wilbur reached up and touched it. It was really lightweight, almost like a hairnet. They told him it was the latest method for getting readings.

"Now, tonight, I want you to just relax and dream as you normally would. Once we have a good baseline, we'll start giving you our training. Normally, it takes about a week to do our set of exercises. Okay? So get a good night's sleep."

Wilbur nodded. The psychologist got up and walked out. Wilbur leaned back in the bed. He shook his head. They were going to pay him for sleeping here, and feed him for a week? Not bad, not bad at all.

In the control room, Dr. Edwards looked at the interns and the monitors.

"All right, let's get the baseline. All recording synchronized and running, right?"

The interns nodded. They had this down.

###

The next evening, Dr. Edwards tucked Wilbur in.

"Now, as your training suggested today, what we want you to do tonight is just relax. Like most people, you have fairly short, fast dream segments. We want you to try to slow down and enjoy the experience of your dreams."

Wilbur frowned a little. He wasn't sure if he could change how fast his dreams went by. But he'd try.

The psychologist left.

In the control room, Dr. Edwards looked at the interns.

"I think we've got a good one here. Like the other two. So let's keep track."

He glanced at the monitors. The video recording of the subject was synchronized with the measurements of brainwaves, REM, and every other factor they could think of. And this subject was showing some of the same signs that the other two had. So, they would have to see what would happen this time.

###

"You're doing an excellent job! Last night, you seemed to have much longer, slower dreams."

Wilbur smiled. He really had enjoyed those dreams. He had gone to work, but then out on a date. There was something fulfilling about walking through the dream, taking your time.

"So, tonight, we're going to ask you to try to get the full sensory experience of your dream. Instead of just looking around and listening, go ahead and try to smell things. Maybe taste something. Reach out, and touch some things, see what they feel like. Okay?"

Wilbur grinned. So, a slow walk through the dream world. And let his senses get their fill. He could do that.

The psychologist walked out of the room.

In the control room, Dr. Edwards watched the monitors. This subject was really exceptional. His dreams were already quite long, with REM continuing for extended periods. And now, the brainwave activity that they were measuring. Just about every part of the sensorium was active. How did he do that?

###

Dr. Edwards took a deep breath, and smiled at Wilbur.

"You are doing so well. Okay, tonight, simply continue with what you've been doing, but add control. Slow down, full sensory experience, and make sure that you are in control of your dream self. Do what you want to, talk about what you want to. Just take control of your dream, and make it yours."

Wilbur smiled. Last night, his friends had said they wanted to have a party tonight. So, he would go to the party!

Doctor Edwards walked out, and into the control room.

The monitors were active. The subject had a dream that provided even more data about how the brain and dreams interact. He really was exceptional.

###

Dr. Edwards looked at Wilbur.

"All right. This is the last night for our training. Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've enjoyed this. If I want to tell somebody about it, what should I call it?"

Dr. Edwards chuckled.

"Mostly, people call it lucid dreaming. Or maybe structured dreaming, concrete dreaming. It's really something that anyone can do, with a little training."

Wilbur nodded.

"So, tonight, keep up the good practices. Slow down and enjoy your dream. Full senses. Take control of the dream. And, as you're dreaming, think about this. Which world do you really enjoy? Where would you like to live?"

Wilbur bit his lip.

"I can tell you already, the dreamworld is pretty nice. I mean, I've got work, I've got a girlfriend, I've got friends..."

Dr. Edwards smiled.

"Well, don't tell me. Just think about it as you dream, okay?"

He closed the door, and walked into the control room.

Dr. Edwards and the interns watched the monitors. The subject quickly fell asleep, and started REM. Okay, dream activity, brain active, everything...

There was a loud pop from the speakers. Suddenly the brainwave monitor was flat lined. And in the bed, there was nothing. Well, the monitoring net was laying on the pillow, but where was the subject?

Dr. Edwards grimaced. It happened again. The interns shook their heads, and checked. The door was still closed, and there was no sign in the video of what happened. One minute, the subject was clearly sleeping, with high dream activity, and then with a pop, nothing. No one there. Just like the other two had been.

The interns looked at him. He slowly shook his head, and groaned.

"All right. Wrap it all up, and we'll file it with the other two."

"But what does it mean? Where do they go?"

Dr. Edwards chewed on his lip.

"If I had to make a guess, I think they followed their dreams. Right out of this world."

POP.

Over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/08/05/week-32-of-odd-prompts/ this week, Jim and Anne prompted me with this (and a picture!)

As I tried to hurry through my breakfast, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the cat door open, and a fat raccoon squeezed through. I didn’t start to worry until the fifth or sixth, but they just kept coming.

Aha! So... let’s see... darn it, I got a beginning, again, but... not sure where to go with it? Maybe I need another prompt?

A Vacation Sight (370 words)

By Mike Barker

Elizabeth shook her head. She still couldn’t believe that she had managed to get to Japan, and rent a house, way out in the countryside, for her vacation. Her lifelong dream, getting to visit Japan, and with Jim, too! She looked around the old style room, with the fire pit in the middle, and smiled.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the little pet door that someone had added to the farm door flip open. Was there a neighborhood cat or...

That’s when the raccoon squeezed through the door. It glanced around, then scurried forward.

And another raccoon squeezed in.

She held her hands over her mouth, watching, as raccoon after raccoon squeezed in. Then she watched the eight of them quickly form a circle, and sit up, in the entryway.

As the ninth animal squeezed in through the doorway, she blinked. Wait a minute, those aren’t raccoons. This is Japan. Those are... she remembered the stories she had read, practicing her Japanese. Tan... tanuki! Raccoon dogs.

As the last one stalked into the middle of the circle, the ones in the circle started drumming on their stomachs. Yes. And... she looked a little more closely. In between their hind legs, huge dangling balls of flesh. Now she nodded. These are tanuki. They must be.

The one in the middle stood on its hind legs, and stretched up. And as the circle started chanting, it lifted a large gourd to its mouth, and she could hear it gulping as it drank. A hyoutan, that’s what it was. A gourd, with ribbons. Probably sake!

Now she started chuckling. This was straight out of the Japanese folktales!

Then the tanuki in the center winked at her, and suddenly changed into a young boy wearing a summer robe. He bowed to her.

She shook her head, and bowed back.

“Dear lady, we welcome you to our land.”

She blinked.

“You speak English?”

He laughed.

“Is it so hard to believe that I can speak your language? After all, I have become a man, just to talk to you. Is a language such a hard thing?”

She slowly nodded.

“Well, yes, that’s true. But... why do you want to talk to me?”

(more later, when I figure out what comes next!)

This week, over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/07/01/week-27-of-odd-prompts/

my prompt from Fiona Grey was, "Oh, no! The coffeepot has been stolen!"

A missing coffeepot? That sounds like a job for Gil, the Monster Hunter chef... I have to admit, I've done two quick versions, but I still think it isn't quite right. Anyway, here's the current writeup...

Getting Ready for Surprises (985 words)

by Mike Barker

Gil had just handed a customer their lunch when he turned around and saw a skillet on the range start flaming. Black smoke poured out, and Hanna jumped back, her hands up.

Billy grabbed a pitcher of water and sloshed it over the range. The grease splashed, of course, so now they had some fire on the range, and some running onto the floor.

Gil looked around, quickly. No red extinguishers? Then he reached over and grabbed the box of baking soda sitting where they had been making bread earlier, and a pot lid. He pushed past Hanna and dropped the pot lid on the skillet. It was a poor fit, but close enough. The smoke stopped pouring out, and was pulled up into the range hood.

He pulled the top of the box of baking soda open, and poured it onto the grease running across the floor. It made a mess, but the fire went out.

Billy and Hanna looked at him in wonder.

"How did you know what to do?"

Gil shook his head.

"Okay. Let's clean up the mess, and then we'll have a meeting. We're going to start EPP, I can see."

Hanna frowned.

"EPP? What's that?"

Gil chuckled.

"Emergency Preparation and Practice. Or you could call it getting ready for surprises, I guess. I'll explain later, but let's get this cleaned up first."

They all pitched in, and he heard them talking about it. EPP? Surprises? What was he going to do now?

Minutes later, everyone except Henry was in the small meeting room, looking at him. Henry was handling the kitchen, in case anyone wanted something.

"So. Let me ask you, do you like surprises?"

They frowned. Hanna said, "Well, some surprises are nice. But that fire? That wasn't a nice surprise."

Gil nodded. "Okay, what would you think about being able to prepare for emergencies before they happen?"

Now their mouths were open.

"How?"

Gil laughed. "It's a simple exercise. What we'll do is, first, here, take these index cards. Now, everyone imagine some kind of emergency or problem that we might have. Write it on the card. They can be things that you've seen happen, or things that you think might happen."

Greta wrinkled her nose, and asked, "You mean like fires and stuff?"

Gil nodded. "Exactly. Or maybe missing stuff. Power outages. Anything that we might run into that would be hard to handle. Heck, having a pig run through the kitchen! Sure, why not? Whatever you like."

He quickly handed out cards, and they bit their lips, or laughed, and scribbled things on the cards. Then he collected them, shuffled the cards, and spread them out on the table, face down. He looked at the littlest troll. Grog? Yeah, that was his name.

"Grog, pick a card, any card."

Grog jumped a little, then reached out and picked one card. He handed it to Gil.

Gil turned it over and read it. "Oh, no. The coffeepot has been stolen!"

He chuckled. Everyone blinked, and started laughing.

Then he nodded, and said, "Yep, that would be an emergency. So, Greta, what do we need to do? The coffeepot is gone!"

She ran a finger over her chin. "Well, I guess we should tell security?"

He nodded. "That's a good step." He scribbled it on the whiteboard. "What else? Anyone?"

Grog muttered something. Gil frowned, and said, "What did you say, Grog? Say it loud enough for everyone to hear."

Grog looked at the floor. "We better send someone out shopping to get another coffeepot."

Gil chuckled. "That's true. Good, we'll add that to the list." He scribbled "Buy new coffeepot" on the whiteboard.

"Check to see if they stole all the coffee, too!"

"Oh, come on, that's stupid."

Gil turned and shook his head. "Nope, that's not the way this works. Look, every idea is useful. I mean, think about it, if someone stole the coffeepot, there's a pretty good chance they stole some other stuff too. And stealing the coffee to go with the pot makes a lot of sense. Okay? Don't cut down the ideas, build them up!"

Then he turned back to the board and added "Check to see what else has been stolen."

"We better start some coffee."

Gil turned, and said, "But we don't have a coffeepot. How do we do it?"

Harold shook his head. "When we go camping, we don't have a coffeepot. But you can make cowboy coffee. Just toss the grounds in, boil it for a while, then toss some eggshells in to make the grounds settle."

Gil laughed. "Okay, we need to make cowboy coffee. Eggshells? Does that really work?"

Harold grinned. "My dad said it did, and I've done it. So, yeah, I think so."

Gil wrote "Make cowboy coffee" on the whiteboard.

They kicked it around a little bit more, and decided that one thing they should do is buy a new coffeepot and keep it in the storage room. Having a spare would help even if the coffeepot burnt out or fell apart or something.

Hanna shook her head. "But, how does this help with today's fire? I mean, it's fun, but..."

Gil nodded. "No, this is just the first step. What we'll do is, whenever we have time, we'll pull another card, and work through what we can think of. And put up a list, maybe even do some practice, to help make sure we know and can do whatever we need to. Like today? I mean, I want some fire extinguishers. But we'll work our way through the emergencies, figuring out what to do -- that's the preparation part -- and practicing, too. So, emergency preparation and practice. EPP! Okay?"

Hanna grinned. "It actually sounds like fun."

Gil smiled. "I think it is. Oh, you can add cards, too. Whenever you think of something else that might happen. So we'll keep working on EPP, right?"

(to be continued)

This week, my prompt at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/06/24/week-26-of-odd-prompts-halfway/ came from Rachel Gavris “I don’t think children should have teeth that big.”

So, back to Gil, the Monster Hunter Chef...

Kindergarten Sticks? (900 words)

by Mike Barker

Gil tried to do some of the deliveries from the kitchen, to help him learn about the different parts of the company. Most of them were pretty obvious, the armory, the building engineers in their basement shop, even the security team with a wall of monitors. Today, though, he had grabbed the cart tagged for the kindergarten. What were they doing with a kindergarten in the Monster Hunters headquarters?

He pushed the cart along, looking at what was on it. Packed snacks, plenty of fruit drinks, napkins... there was a big box on top labeled sticks. He flipped the top up, saw what looked like Lincoln logs, and shrugged. Maybe it was for the kids to play with?

He glanced at the map, and took a left. There it was.

When he knocked on the door, he heard someone inside unlock it. As he stepped in, the doorway flashed white. Then it went back to a steady green. Huh...

He smiled at the woman who was looking at him. She was obviously a teacher. And standing beside her was a teenage troll. Okay...

"Hi. I'm Gil, the new face in the kitchen crew. I thought I'd bring the snacks today."

She nodded. "Oh. I'm Phyllis. Is it snack time already?"

Then she turned and whistled at the children around the room. Gil looked at the room. Bright pastel walls, with plenty of odd cartoon figures painted on it. And scattered all over were playthings. Bright plastic stairs, a slide, balls. Yep, it was a kindergarten.

"Line up for snacks!"

The kids shrieked and headed for the cart. But they lined up nicely. Gil grabbed a snack pack and a bottle of fruit juice. Then he looked at the first child in line, and almost dropped everything.

The teacher shook her head. "Didn't anybody tell you? These are the troll kids."

Gil took a deep breath, and nodded. "Ah! No one mentioned that. They just said take it to the kindergarten."

She shook her head. "Well, I hope they sent plenty of sticks."

Gil opened the box on the top of the cart. "Yep, they told me I needed to bring these sticks. But what are they for?"

She frowned. "Oh. William? Show the man your teeth."

The first child let his jaw fall open. Gil already knew the trolls had tusks, but he hadn't paid as much attention to the other teeth. Those front teeth were like white shovels! Sharp, and big.

Gil gulped. "I don’t think children should have teeth that big, should they?”

The teacher shrugged. "They are big, aren't they? Still, all the troll kids have big teeth. So they chew on the sticks to help keep them worn down."

Gil thought for a moment. "Wait a minute. You mean they keep growing, like a rabbit or something? Aha, now I understand the sticks."

William whined, "But they're so bo... ring!"

Gil smiled at the little boy. "Boring, are they?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. Mom and the teacher and everyone tells us we need to chew on them, but they are just so boring. But if you don't chew, then your teeth hurt."

Gil grinned. "Okay. Let me think about that."

He handed out snacks, drinks, and sticks to the children. Then he unloaded the box, and promised Phyllis that he would bring more tomorrow.

Walking back to the kitchen, he shook his head. He remembered when some of the boys in his school went through a phase of chewing on toothpicks. A candy store had sold them, as he remembered. Flavored... now, what did they use?

He came back the next day. And William lined up first, again. With a big smile.

"So, what've you got for us today?"

Gil reached into the box, and pulled out several sticks. Red, green, brown. He handed a red one to William, and said, "Try that. Tell me what you think."

When William started to chew on it, his jaw fell open. "Wow! It's flavored! Like, like, cinnamon apples or something."

Gil smiled at William, and nodded. "That's right. I steeped the sticks in the strongest flavors I could find, and colored them with food coloring so you could tell them apart. Now, what I need you to do is try chewing on them, and tell me which colors you really, really like. I'll keep making different ones, and you can try as many as you like, but I need you to tell me which ones I should keep making, and which ones to just quit making. Okay? Can you help me with this?"

William smiled. Man, those were big teeth! "Yeah, I can do that. Maybe the teacher can keep a list somewhere, and we can vote for the best ones?"

The teacher laughed. "That's a good idea, William. We'll do that!"

Everyone picked up a colored stick to go with their snacks and drinks. Phyllis promised she would drop today's vote by the cafeteria later, and Gil told her they would make sure there were plenty of flavored sticks for the kindergarten. Looking around at the kids busily chewing on the sticks he had brought, he bit his own lip and said, "Actually, I'll send you up another box this afternoon. It looks like you'll need it."

She chuckled. "Good! I think you just solved one of my problems, getting these kids to wear down their teeth so they can pay attention. Thank you!"

Gil walked back to the kitchen, thinking about how to keep track of the flavors and try new ones on the troll sticks. Then he chuckled. It was nice having a challenge like this now and then.

Wait until he had a chance to encrust the sticks with rock candy! He didn't think William would find that boring!

(to be continued, maybe!)

My prompt, from https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/06/03/week-23-of-odd-prompts/, was:

The moon looked like it had another crater, which grew as the moon waxed larger. And then…

A pimple that popped? A hole through the moon? Hum...

I tried the moon running away, the moon turning black, a momentary oddity, even a hole through the moon. But I think the one I like goes like this...

A Dark Beacon (300 words)

By Mike Barker

Like just about everybody, Malcolm was outside that evening looking at the moon when it happened. After all, it was one of those moons that the astronomers talked about, strawberry, harvest, something or other. The news had been full of it, and that evening, it was surprisingly clear, so most of America was outside to see it.

Malcolm sighed, looking up at the moon. He had been so close! Top ratings in the astronaut training, just about to join the Space Force, and... they had closed it all down. The ISS, left to run on automatics. Both NASA and the civilians ordered to write it up and leave it alone. Funding cut to the bone. And him, told to make a life doing something else. He had a radio with him, tuned to the live broadcast from what was left of NASA.

The moon was gorgeously full, hanging in the dark night. But as he watched, one of the craters, a dark pimple on the moon's shiny face, suddenly seemed to swell up. Then it shrank again. Swelled up, shrank, swelled up, shrank. Then swelled up and held it, for a long count. Shrank again. Swelled up and held it twice more.

Malcolm held his breath. The crater ran through three more shorts. Three short, three long, three short. SOS? Who or what could be doing that?

As he watched, as America watched, the crater repeated the sequence. Video cameras, live streams, everyone captured it.

The NASA broadcasters were sputtering and screaming at each other. Finally, someone yelled, "Shut it off." The broadcast shut off, but the moon crater continued to send SOS.

Malcolm's cell phone rang. He didn't recognize the number, but he answered it.

"Malcolm Foster? You are being recalled to the Space Force. Report to duty as soon as possible at the SpaceX center."

He blinked and looked at the phone.

"Yes, sir. But… What's the mission?"

"We're going to the moon to answer that SOS!"

###

My prompt from https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/05/20/week-21-of-odd-prompts/

You come home from a long day at work and plop down on the couch with a beer. The cat looks up and says, “Hey, can I have one too?”

Hum, but can the cat open the pop-top? Or use the bottlecap opener?

Hold My Beer (800 words)

by Mike Barker

Harold stepped through the doorway of his apartment, dropped his briefcase, and leaned back against the door, slamming it. He reached over his shoulder and flipped the lock closed. Then he picked up the chain and slid it into place. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and just shuddered.

"E gads, I hate Mondays!"

When he opened his eyes, he felt a little better.

That's when Mr. Dibs walked out of the kitchen into the hallway, put his front paws out and stretched luxuriously, then stood up and gave a piteous meow.

Harold had to chuckle.

"Yes, it's time for your dinner. All right, let me take care of that."

He straightened up and walked into the kitchen. Mr. Dibs, the cat, followed him, then sat down inside the doorway. Harold got out a can of cat food, picked up the bowl from the floor and rinsed it out, then popped the top on the cat food. He got a spoon and carefully cleaned the can out, breaking it up into a number of pieces. Mr. Dibs wouldn't eat it if you just dumped the lump of cat food in the bowl. He set the bowl down, then checked the water fountain to make sure there was water in the reservoir and that the water in the base was clean.

Then he opened the refrigerator, grabbed a can of beer, and walked back out into the living room. He sprawled across the sofa, and blinked a little.

Mr. Dibs had followed him back into the living room. Maybe he wasn't hungry for dinner yet?

Harold leaned over and popped the top on the beer. He started to salute Mr. Dibs with the can.

That's when Mr. Dibs walked over and put his paw on Harold's knee. Then he gave Harold a little cat smile, with those sharp teeth glittering. And Mr. Dibs said, "Why don't you get me one of those?"

Harold froze. He slowly put the can down on the coffee table. He closed his mouth, and shook his head.

"Wait. I didn't... Did you... What..."

Mr. Dibs sank his claws into Harold's knee.

"Ouch! Why did you do that?"

Mr. Dibs shrugged. And talked again.

"You were babbling. Now, why don't you get me a beer?"

Harold ran his hand over his mouth.

"So when did you start talking?"

Mr. Dibs frowned.

"First, get me a beer. Then I'll think about answering questions."

Harold looked around the room.

"Is this one of those Candid Camera gags? Am I going to be on TV?"

Mr. Dibs lifted his paw, then set it down and sank his claws in again.

"No, it's really me. What about that beer?"

Harold scratched his head. He started to get up, then looked at his beer sitting on the coffee table, and at the cat. He picked up the beer and took a healthy swig. Then he went into the kitchen and got another can, and a bowl. He carried the bowl and the can back into the living room and set the can in the bowl on the floor. He sat down holding his beer in his hands.

Mr. Dibs looked at the can, then glared at Harold.

"Really funny. Thumbs! Open the can."

Harold nodded. Then he opened the can and poured a little bit into the bowl.

"There you go, start with that."

Mr. Dibs walked over and started lapping up the beer.

"Now, when did you start talking?"

There was a series of lapping sounds. Then Mr. Dibs lifted his head and burped.

"That's very good. Actually, I could ask you the same question, when did you start talking?"

Harold shook his head.

"But… I don't remember. When I was very young."

Mr. Dibs nodded.

"Same here. What did you expect, some magical date?"

This time Harold shrugged.

"I guess I did. But… Why are you talking to me now?"

Mr. Dibs chuckled.

"Actually… I didn't want to listen to you griping again about what a rotten day you had had. So I thought I would give you something else to think about. It worked, didn't it?"

Harold picked up his beer. He swigged from it. Then he smiled.

"You got that right. So what happens now?"

Mr. Dibs drank some of his beer, too. Then he lifted his eyes and stared at Harold.

"Well, we can skip the whole green eggs and ham, Cat in the Hat, I'm Sam I am business. I'm just your cat. Or actually, I should say you're just my person. Okay? And don't expect me to entertain you. That's not what I do."

Harold nodded. Mr. Dibs blinked, and pawed at the bowl.

"Actually... there is a little job that you could help me with."

(to be continued? maybe...)

My prompt this week is a picture at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/05/13/week-20-of-odd-prompts/

And a little bit of thought left me with this...

That Old House (650 words)

By Mike Barker

Hank got out of the taxi slowly. He looked at the weeds, the tumbled bushes, and the house. He couldn't believe it.

"Are you sure this is the right address?"

The taxi driver's voice woke him up. He looked at the houses around him, the street. Yes, this was the right place.

"Yes, this is it. Would you mind waiting a bit? $20 tip."

The taxi driver chuckled.

"For 20 bucks? Sure, I'll sit here. But it doesn't look to me like there's anybody home."

Hank nodded. He bit his lip, and slowly looked it over. His dad... his dad would have a fit, seeing the front yard like this. He'd mowed that lawn every week, no matter what, and kept the bushes trimmed. But the house...

Tarpaper on the walls? That used to be brick. And those windows boarded up with plywood?

That one, right there, that was the kitchen window, where his mother liked to watch the world, as she would tell them. She would slide that big glass window open, and let the wind and the sun in. Her kitchen counter was right there, with the oven over on the wall, and the big refrigerator. The kitchen table was where they usually ate.

Then that must be the living room. Yep, there was the chimney for the fireplace. Not that they had a fire very often, but sometimes, the family would get together in there, on the old sofa, and Dad would get some of the firewood out and they would enjoy an evening together. Sometimes in the winter, when it was cold and snowy outside, those were magical evenings.

But where was the walk?

Darn it, it should be right there, in front of that part of the house? Ran up to the doorway. The first one, that came with the house when they moved in, it cracked. So his father got the sledgehammer out, and they broke it into pieces, and hauled it all off. Then his father and he had dug it out, and laid a wooden frame. The concrete mixer came, and poured concrete into their old wheelbarrow, and they filled it in. Leveled it, and let it cure. Darn it, his sweat went into that walkway. Oh. It must be buried under those bushes and the weeds growing over there.

Looking at the house, he remembered his high school years. He had enjoyed life with his family here, those long years ago. And to see the old place looking run down like this. He started to reach for the weeds, to yank them up and make it a little tidier. Then he shook his head, and stood there, tears running down his cheeks.

After a while, he got out a handkerchief and mopped his face. Then he looked at the poor old wreck once more, and turned around, and climbed into the taxi.

The driver sat up, and turned off his radio.

"All done?"

Hank took a deep breath, and blew it out. Then he looked one last time at his childhood home.

No, it wasn't his childhood home, that warm home, with his mother and father and sisters, was long gone, living only in his memories. This. This was just the bare bones, without even any ghosts. All it needed was a tombstone.

He got his wallet out, and pulled out a 20 dollar bill. He reached over the seat back and handed it to the driver.

"Yep. All done. I guess... I'll go back to the hotel now."

The driver looked at the house.

"I'll bet that was a nice house, back when it was built. Shame they let it get run down like that."

Hank nodded.

"It was a nice house. But you're right, it's run down now."

The taxi engine coughed, and they drove off into the night.

Behind them, the house slowly settled into the past.

The End

My prompt over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/05/06/week-19-of-odd-prompts/ came from Becky Jones:

Going through the pile of vegetables (pick your favorite veggies) at the farmers market, you feel something push at your hand. Looking down, you see a small face looking up at you. Who’s hiding in the veggies and why?

Hum... Who's hiding under the cabbage leaves? Is Gil shopping? For home? With his dog?

Some possible ideas. Gil finds three baby fairies/pixies? Harold finds a giant Caterpillar alien? Somebody finds greenbacks, escaping migrant workers, hiding in the vegetables?

Under the Cabbage Leaves (450 words)

By Mike Barker

Gil enjoyed his day off. He took Monster, the three headed dog, with him to the farmers market in the park nearby. The sunshine was warm, and he laughed, because he never knew just what he might find there. Last week, someone had black carrots. He bought one bunch, and shaved them into his salad all week. It looked like beet shavings, but tasted like crunchy carrots.

This week, they seemed to have a lot of mushrooms. He liked mushrooms, but he was really looking for leafy greens. Then he found a table covered with green. Lots of lettuce. Oh, cabbages!

He lifted one of the cabbages, and something moved. He remembered finding a big slug on one of the cabbages here, so he wasn't too surprised. But he pulled back his hand anyway.

Then the leaf lifted, and a tiny head poked out. Tousled hair, bright green eyes, a little button nose, a wide grin, and ears… Spock had ears like that, didn't he? What?

Then the little head spoke.

"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

Gil chuckled and shook his head.

"No, this isn't Oz. And this isn't Toto either."

He shook the leash, and Monster growled.

Then two more heads poked out of the pile of cabbages. They spoke in harmony.

"We're triplets! We were supposed to go to someone who found us in the Cabbage Patch, but this farmer picked the cabbages before anyone came! We need a home..."

Then they climbed out of the cabbages. Monster stepped closer, and each of the little winged fairies carefully stepped onto one of his heads. Then Monster turned toward him, and all of them grinned at him as he blinked and held his hand to his forehead. Somehow he didn't think adopting three fairies from the Cabbage Patch at the farmers market was really a good idea. Although they were cute. And Monster liked them.

"All right. But I need to buy some vegetables."

He started to pick up a cabbage, and one of them shook his head.

"Not that one. It's worm-eaten inside."

They quickly guided him to pick up two good cabbages, and a head of lettuce.

He was fascinated that the farmer who sold him the vegetables looked right at Monster, and just chuckled.

"That's a good dog you got there."

The fairies sitting on Monster's heads all nodded their agreement. But the farmer didn't seem to notice the fairies or Monster's extra heads.

Gil wondered what the security folks would say at work. He was definitely going to tell them about this. Of course, they were happy to have him taking care of Monster, so three fairies probably wouldn't be a problem.

###

Don't Mind the Pupae (450 words)

By Mike Barker

Harold really enjoyed the fleamarket style farmers market that they held in the central park during the summer. You never knew what you might find. He had stumbled over a sculptured beggar, on his knees throwing a cloth over his shoulders, that was just sitting in the back of one farmer's truck. When he asked about it, the farmer shrugged and named a price. He had been happy to pay that, and now the beggar graced one of his shelves. Today, Harold was just looking for some veggies, and to see what turned up.

He blinked at the cabbages. Something had been chewing on those leaves. Then he noticed the big colored balls among the pale green cabbages. What was that? He shifted a cabbage, and...

A big red head popped up. On top of a blue ball, on top of a green one... And the mouth, it was a typical insect mouth, large choppers closing from the sides, smaller feelers between, but so big! Then the antenna whipped over the top of the head, and two huge eyes were uncovered. No, they were faceted, multiple tiny eyes, but so many of them. And he could swear there were eyelashes on the edges of the lids that slid back.

He fell down. He was just so stunned, he couldn't keep his balance, and he thudded down on his seat.

The red head followed him down, the eyes swaying. Then a voice vibrated out of somewhere in the mouth parts that were working, working, as if chewing.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you like that."

He worked his jaw, and gulped. He looked around, and he could see people running away.

"I... yes, I am alright. But... what are you?"

The mouth parts shook, and there was a chittering sound. He decided that it must be intended as laughter.

"I am... well, let's just say that I was going to have a short visit here on your planet before I spend the next little while meditating in my chrysalis. Then I made the mistake of falling asleep in a field, and the next thing I know, I'm being dumped out here. And then you came along. Tell me, have you ever heard of the migrating habits of the lesser Megallanic Hyperlepidoptera?"

Harold squeezed his eyes shut, then open. Nope, it was still looking at him.

"Lepidoptera? That's a fancy word for butterflies, I think. And the Megallanic clouds are galaxies. But..."

The antenna waved up and down.

"Exactly! I am an alien! Take me to your leader, and all that. But right now, I really need a place to set up my chrysalis. Do you know where I could safely leave it for a while?"

###

This week’s prompt at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/04/29/week-18-of-odd-prompts/ was simple. Those are always fun!

“So, he found a dead body when he was wakeboarding off of Jersey.”

A little brainstorming...

Who is he? What kind of dead body? Wakeboarding... who was driving the boat? What kind of stunts was he performing?

Oh, what the heck, let’s get back to our chef in a monster hunting outfit...

Can I have some of that?

By Mike Barker

Gil was relaxing, working the line, dipping out portions as people walked by, when he heard someone tell another guy, “So, he found a dead body when he was wakeboarding off of Jersey.”

He shook his head, then smiled at the man.

“What did you say? What’s wakeboarding?”

The man smiled back at him.

“Oh. Sorry, one of the teams was out yesterday, tracking down an incident in New Jersey. It started with some guy wakeboarding. That’s that thing where you get a boat to pull you, and you ride a surfboard in the wake of the boat? Most of them do fancy tricks, riding into the wake and jumping up, flipping and stuff. Anyway, this guy was doing some of that in the ocean off New Jersey. And he hit a dead body!”

The guy took a deep breath. Then he glanced at the steam trays.

“Can I have some of that bacon?”

Gil picked up some and dropped it on a plate, then passed it to the man.

“A dead body? Wow!”

The guy grinned.

“I guess he was about to flip or something, and his board hit the body, so everyone went flying. The boat came back, and picked up the dead body first. But it didn’t look like him, and he swam up. I guess for a while, they were afraid he had killed the guy, but... he’d been drained off blood before being put in the water, according to the medical examiner. That’s how we got involved, the ME called the government, and they called us. The team poked around, and found several other bodies drained of blood in the area.”

Gil licked his lips.

“No blood? Vampires?”

The guy nodded.

“That’s what everyone was guessing. But...”

He looked at the steam trays again.

“Are those eggs sunny side up? Can I have two of those?”

Gil reached over, slid them onto his spatula, and reached them out to the man’s tray.

“So what was it?”

The man shook his head.

“They’re still trying to figure it out. According to the team, someone used a kitchen gadget, like a giant pump, to suck the blood out. Vampires don’t do that.”

Gil blinked. He knew what the man meant, he had some of those in the kitchen behind him. But if they were sucking out the blood... he grimaced.

“Did anyone check for blood sausage? I mean, I can’t imagine why you would make it with human blood, but that’s what we’d do here in the kitchen with pig’s blood?”

The man’s eyes went wide.

“Wait! You know what, that...”

He pawed at his pocket, and pulled out a cell phone. He hit buttons, and talked to it. He listened for a moment. Then he turned to Gil, and really smiled.

“Ouch! I don’t know how to thank you. The team had found a kitchen where they knew something was done with the blood, but they didn’t know where to look next. Thanks to you... we found the sausages. They were in the refrigerator! They tested one, and it’s human blood. Nice catch!”

Gil grimaced. Then he looked at the steam trays, and the man’s tray.

“Did you want anything else for breakfast?”

The man laughed.

“No, I think this will do it. Thanks again! Blood sausages. Who would have thought?”

To be continued, maybe...

This week over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/04/22/week-17-of-odd-prompts/ my prompt was:

Your daily walk has been along the same route for months. Today, you notice a side trail up into the woods that’s never been there before. On a surprising whim, you decide to take the new path. Where does it lead you?

Hum... I decided to just do some freewriting, and see where we went... here's what I ended up with. Not finished, but... you might enjoy it?

Into the Woods (800 words)

By Mike Barker

Fred loved walking through the woods along this old path. Sometimes he jogged, sometimes he ran, but today he was just taking a slow walk. Letting the quiet seep into his soul. Sometimes life was just irritating, so boring and tame. Day after day, the same old same old. But the woods always had something new, whether it was the green vibrant growth in the spring or the slowly disintegrating brown of fall, like today. Insects and birds busily at work, sometimes a rustling in the leaves. You never really knew what you might find.

He was about to take the right hand twist in the path at the old oak when he noticed the gleam hanging in the air. What was that? He slowed down, and looked closely at it. It almost looked... well, sometimes at night you saw a reflection of a light along a metal edge. Or perhaps a nightlight, glowing under the edge of a door? He reached out, and slid his finger down the glimmering line.

Suddenly, the air split, and there was a whole new branch in the trail there. It had always twisted to the right at this point, bending around the oak rising beside the path. But now there were two branches, the right hand one that had always been there, and a left hand branch that he had never seen before.

He glanced along the well known path, and then grinned. He had just been thinking that life was boring and tame, hadn’t he? So...

He stepped onto the left hand branch, and kept going. He didn’t notice that behind him, the temporary warp in the air quietly vanished again.

The air smelled fresher somehow as he walked along. Then he shook his head. Wait a minute. That bush had green leaves, and it'd been fall… He glanced up at the trees, and they were gleaming green new growth, too. What happened?

He stepped into a field. Tall green growth stretched across it. And on the other side, near a pine tree, a… He blinked and gasped. Then he rubbed his head. It must be a deer, right? Or someone was playing jokes. It looked like… Well, a unicorn. One shining white horn, flowing mane, if it weren't for the horn, he'd call it a pony, but... It lifted its head, and soft brown eyes, big like a deer, looked at him and blinked.

Then it… It strolled across the field. He reached out, his hand trembling. It lowered its head and tapped his knuckles, then moved forward so that his hand was on its shoulder. He stroked it, and the unicorn gently laid the horn across his shoulder.

He had to be dreaming. But… His fingers caught in a knot in the mane, and he gently teased it loose. No, dreams didn't have things like this. He could smell the flowers, smell the unicorn. The sun beat down on his shoulders, and he gently shook his head. This was no dream.

After several minutes spent stroking the unicorn, he shook his head and looked around. He really should get back to the path, and home. He turned around, and started back. The unicorn pushed up beside him, and trotted alongside as he walked.

He frowned. There were his footsteps, he could see the tracks, but... they just seemed to start in the middle of the path? Where was the old oak, and where was the well-worn path that he always walked?

He looked around, and felt a cold shiver run down his back. He remembered that bush, and the trees, but... he couldn't see anything that looked like the old path. Well, his home must be over there, right?

He turned, and jogged a little bit. The small unicorn easily twisted through the woods with him.

After a while, he stopped. He looked at the sun, the clouds, the trees, the unicorn. Then he nodded, slowly, and blew his breath out. He took a slow, deep breath, and held it, then let it go to the count of three.

He didn't know where he was, but there was no sign of ... well, of his world. Of his old life.

The unicorn tapped his shoulder with its horn, and he leaned against it. Then he knelt, and cried. Yes, his life had been boring, irritating, not exciting. But... it was his life! He really didn't want it to go away.

The unicorn let him cry, gently rippling its shoulder as he let go of the old life.

After a time, he rubbed at his eyes, and shook his head. Then he stood up, and gently hugged the unicorn.

"Well. I suppose I should give you a name? What about Friday? I sure feel like Robinson Crusoe, castaway in a world I never knew was there. Or should I say here?"

The unicorn blinked at him, then nodded.

"Thank you, Friday. Oh, and I'm Fred, in case you care. And what should we do now? I suppose I should find shelter?"

He looked around, then walked into the woods. A lean-to shouldn't be too hard to put together. Gather some dry wood, too, and see if he still remembered how to make a fire from those long-ago days in Scouts? And he would have to think about what he could eat, too.

A new beginning?

My prompt this week over at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/04/15/week-16-of-odd-prompts/ was a picture. It's been a busy week, but... I sat down and did a little freewriting, and ... here it is. I hope you enjoy this little walk in the woods.

A Path Less Travelled (400 words)

By Mike Barker

He glanced around, wondering. The path still wound back and forth through the woods, as he remembered, but... where was the giant tree, the one where they built a fort out of bits and pieces of wood they had found up, way up in a fork between the trunk and a big branch? It was such a big tree.

Oh. Maybe that was it, on the ground, in pieces?

The birches, yes, he remembered those. But they weren’t so thick back then, were they? No one was peeling these for birch bark sheets to use for treasure maps and other fun? Someone should.

He wondered if the turtles and frogs still came out when it rained. They used to play with them, trying to catch the frogs barehanded, and teasing the turtles as they lumbered along.

He walked a few more steps, wincing at the pain in his knees. Darn it, he used to run through these woods, and now he could just barely shamble. Still, he was going to see if the tree he had scratched his initials in was still there. Let’s see, you could just see the edge of the field where they played baseball from it, so... it must be around here somewhere. If he had scratched the initials in when he was... well, about this high, where would they be? Surely the tree must have grown up since then, right?

Oh, wait! Wasn't there a sassafras tree somewhere in here? Sure. He could dig up some roots and make some tea later. He started looking for those mitten-shaped leaves, then blinked and stood still. He remembered... Uncle Bill, showing him how to find sassafras, and brew tea from the roots. Uncle Bill had loved walking in the woods, showing him some of the wonder that you could find there. But... but he was dead now, for years. Still, remembering him, he felt his eyes brim with tears, and blinked hard. Took a deep breath, and blinked again.

The woods were full of wonder, as he looked around. He knew it was just a small section, left untouched mostly because it wasn't worth developing, but still... these trees held hope and dreams and memories in their branches, just waiting for the right person to walk into their enchanted shade and look around.

So he took the path less traveled and laughed in the sunshine, one more time.

The End

Girl Scouts in the Sanitarium?

I have a feeling this could turn in to something, but right now, it's more like scattered fragments that I have been playing with. So... welcome to the workshop, where the words are still at play.

The prompt from https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/04/08/week-15-of-odd-prompts/ was:

Four girls of about 12 explore their Scout camp, formerly used as a tuberculosis sanitarium in the days prior to antibiotics.

Uh, oh... quick brainstorming, a visit to Google, what? Okay...

Hum. Haunted? A cemetery that they don’t expect? The tb sanitariums were mostly pretty ritzy, I think? AZ was a favored location... Tucson had a bunch? What might the patients have tucked away, hidden, and never come back for?

More ideas? A left-over alien who was hiding out in the sanitarium? (E.T. didn't go home?)

Nothing that seemed to grab me, but, let's try some freewriting, and see what we end up with.

Fragment #1

Helen looked around at the woods. Rebecca and Louise were right behind her, and Zoe was following. She frowned, and hoped she had identified the twins correctly. She wondered if they knew that usually Rebecca stood on the right, and Louise stood on the left. She would be willing to bet their parents had named them after the two directions, and stood them up in their places enough that they unconsciously stood that way without thinking about it. It sure made it easier to remember who was who.

The Girl Scout leaders had told them they could go anywhere in the camp they wanted, except beyond the red signs. Naturally, they were now poking their way beyond the red signs. So far, it looked just like another part of the woods that most of the camp was covered with. Although there was some kind of clearing up ahead.

Moments later, she stepped out into the sunshine. The other three followed. They all looked around.

Rebecca groaned. “A cemetery? Oh, come on.”

Helen nodded. The little stone markers covered the field. She walked over to the nearest one and knelt down to read it.

“Amy Gilbert, 1905-1912.”

She scrambled up, and stepped back.

Zoe gasped. “She... she was only seven? Wow...”

Rebecca and Louise looked at each other, then started walking through the field, reading dates. They called to each other. Seven, nine, oh, here’s one that was twelve...

Zoe put her hand on Helen’s arm.

“I don’t understand. Why so many young people dead?”

That was when Helen felt the cold shiver, and heard a voice.

“Welcome to the sanatorium! We’re glad to see you.”

She looked around, trying to figure out where the voice came from.

Zoe screamed, and the twins ran back.

“Did... did you hear that?”

They all nodded, and stared at each other, and glanced around.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Amy. I am a ghost.”

Helen felt her jaw drop. Then she pulled it up, and frowned.

“A ghost? What?”

Zoe nodded.

“I... I read about something like this. You’ve been waiting for someone to talk to, haven’t you?”

The ghost chuckled.

“Yes! But it has been so long, and no one comes here.”

End of Fragment...

Some characters, a cemetary, a ghost...

Blah. I don’t like that. What if we just went with exploring the woods?

Fragment #2

Zoe looked scared.

“Is... is that poison ivy?”

Helen looked where she was pointing, then shook her head.

“No, I don’t think so. Look, that has four leaves together, and they are round. Poison ivy has three leaf clusters, and I think the leaves are pointy.”

Then she grinned, and pointed at another tree nearby.

“Like that one! Zoe, don’t touch it, but take a good look. That’s poison ivy.”

Zoe looked at it, carefully. Then she nodded.

“Okay. I can remember that. Thanks, Helen!”

End of Fragment

Nuts, let's try again...

Fragment #3

When they left the tents behind, the sunshine was warm and the air gentle. But now, under the trees, with shadows dappling the ground and vines and bushes everywhere, Helen felt a shiver run up her spine. She glanced back where Rebecca and Louise, the twins, crunched through the dry leaves on the ground behind her. Behind them, Zoe looked at the ground, and then stopped.

Helen turned and said, "What's wrong, Zoe?"

Zoe lifted her hand and pointed at a tree near her, covered with some kind of vine.

"Is… Is that poison ivy? I don't want to get sick!"

Rebecca glanced over at it, then shook her head.

"No, whatever that is has too many leaves. Look, poison ivy has three leaves in clusters. Like…"

She glanced around, then pointed at another tree.

"Now that is poison ivy!"

Zoe looked at one tree, then at the other. She looked back and forth several times, then nodded.

"Okay. I think I can remember that."

She gave the tree with the poison ivy a glare. And she smiled.

"Let's get going again!"

End of Fragment

Fragment #4

Helen chuckled and looked around. They had already walked past the red warning signs that the adults had told them to never go past. So far, the woods just looked like any other part of the Girl Scout camp. She didn't know what to expect, but she thought there must be something special here.

There was a clearing just ahead. She stumbled out of the woods and almost stepped on a low stone in the field, her eyes dazzled by the sun. Then she glanced down at the stone and realized it was a grave marker. She knelt down to read it.

“Amy Gilbert, 1905-1912.”

She scrambled up, and stepped back.

Zoe gasped. “She... she was only seven? Wow...”

Rebecca and Louise looked at each other, then started walking through the field, reading dates. They called to each other. Seven, nine, oh, here’s one that was twelve...

Zoe put her hand on Helen’s arm.

“I don’t understand. Why so many young people dead?”

That was when Helen felt the cold shiver, and heard a voice.

“Welcome to the sanatorium! We’re glad to see you.”

She looked around, trying to figure out where the voice came from.

Zoe screamed, and the twins ran back.

“Did... did you hear that?”

They all nodded, and stared at each other, and glanced around.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Amy. I am a ghost.”

Helen felt her jaw drop. Then she pulled it up, and frowned.

“A ghost? What?”

Zoe nodded.

“I... I read about something like this. You’ve been waiting for someone to talk to, haven’t you?”

The ghost chuckled.

“Yes! But it has been so long, and no one comes here. Who are you?”

Helen frowned.

"My name is Helen. Are you Amy Gilbert?"

"I'm pleased to meet you, Helen. Yes, my name is Amy Gilbert. But who are your friends?"

Rebecca and Louise stepped forward together, and curtsied.

Helen said, "This is Rebecca and Louise."

Zoe looked around, as if she might spot the ghost, then bobbed her head.

Helen chuckled. "And that's Zoe."

End of Fragment...

Bleep! I kind of like the four girls, and even the ghost seems reasonable. But... it's not really going anywhere. Okay, put it aside and see if you can find something to do with it later.

Over at OddPrompts https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/ this week, my prompt was simple. “Suppose the songs “Quinn the Eskimo” and “The Ballad of Eskimo Nell” both take place in the same ‘verse.” Quinn the Eskimo? Bob Dylan, and what I remember mostly was the name. Oh, I could sort of hum it. And while I’ve heard about the ballad of Eskimo Nell, I wasn’t sure of the words. So the first step was to visit google...

Quinn the Eskimo

http://www.bobdylan.com/songs/quinn-eskimo-mighty-quinn/

Eskimo Nell

http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/folk-song-lyrics/Eskimo_Nell(Amalgamated).htm

Hum... Deadeye Dick and Mexican Pete... Eskimo Nell headed North...

Obviously, my story should be about the encounter between Quinn the Eskimo and Eskimo Nell? In the land up North?

Let that ferment a bit, and here you go!

What Happened Under The Aurora (590 words)

By Mike Barker

I’ve heard that you are interested in the aurora borealis, the wonder of the northern skies, that light of the night? Well, let me tell you the tale of how the northern lights came to be. You see, once upon a time, the North was always dark and cold, no lights to be seen, just as grim as it could be.

Then, one cold winter night, and remember, the nights are long up there, when the times were at their darkest, the igloos silent, and all seemed grim as grim could be, well, out of the darkness, there was a hearty footstep heard, a-crunching through the snow and ice, and he strode into their lives!

Yes, it was Quinn the Eskimo! Twice, even three times as big as life, with a hearty chuckle and a handshake that crushed other men’s fists, he walked in and asked them what the problem was.

They jumped for joy, the pigeons ran to him, some took a nap. They’d not seen nothing like the mighty Quinn. But then, well, they wailed, they whined, and they said the nights were just too dark!

Now Quinn thought upon it, and he shared fires, he shared lanterns, he shared this and that. But still, above them all, the sky was dark. Within, without, it was just too dark to shout.

They cried out, and wondered why such a great man could not help them. They were twice as unhappy, knowing that even the great Quinn the Eskimo couldn’t help them.

But then, as they groaned and screamed, she stepped into their igloo and winked. Yes, it was Eskimo Nell! She’d been down south by the Rio Grande, that lusty maid who was unafraid, and left Deadeye Dick and Mexican Pete broken and groaning behind at Black Mike’s saloon. She said she had come to the North to find a real man, a man who would satisfy her, although she didn’t know if such a man could be found anywhere.

As she told them her tale of woe, and of her search for a man who could stand up ... well, lay down with her, that’s when Quinn stood up, and raised his hand in greeting. She looked across the igloo, and smiled. Their eyes met, and those two knew that it was meant to be, that they could do what no one else had done.

So they walked out into the night, with a single sleeping bag slung over Quinn’s shoulder.

No one knows just what those two did that night, but the sky it glistened, and strange lights flew up and all around, and the ground shook and ice shattered, and then...

They came back. Eskimo Nell was smiling, and Quinn was staggering, but behind them, the sky glowed, with the aurora hanging in the air, a wonder that showed just what those two had done, out in that sleeping bag.

When the Eskimos went out and looked for that blessed sleeping bag the next summer, all they could find were scattered shreds in a spot where the snow and ice had melted, and scattered, and melted again.

But ever since, the Aurora Borealis has hung in the sky, a reminder of that night when Quinn the Eskimo and Eskimo Nell first met, and taught the Northern Sky that love will find a way!

Now tell your friends, tell everyone you know, that when Quinn the Eskimo comes, Eskimo Nell she grins and laughs as he rings her bell, and the skies above glow with their ecstasy!

And that’s why the Northern Lights shine.

The End

This week, my prompt was "The vacuum chokes on something, and when you clean it out, you look in surprise at the thing that really shouldn’t be there."

From https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/03/25/week-13-of-odd-prompts/

Sorry, this weekend has been difficult. I twisted my back or something early Saturday, and have mostly been not doing things this weekend as a result. However, along the way, I did come up with this fragment... incomplete, and I'm not quite sure where I would go with it.

Watch Where You Stick That Vacuum Cleaner Hose! (500 words)

By Mike Barker

He knew he shouldn’t just stick the vacuum hose under the refrigerator and suck whatever was under there up in it, but... sweeping it out and sorting things out was so icky! So, since no one was watching, he stuck it under, and listened to the thumps and whooshes as he moved the hose tip around. Then the vacuum coughed, and he could feel the whole thing shudder. What the heck had he sucked up?

He turned the vacuum off, and dragged the hose and the vacuum out under the bright fluorescent lights. Drat. Okay, start with the easy part.

He opened the vacuum, and pulled out the dust bag that collected all the trash. It was full of dust bunnies and just plain dust. That stick... oh, someone’s pen. But nothing that looked as if it was blocking. He put it back together, and pulled the hose free. Then he turned the vacuum on for a moment. Whoosh! Okay, it was pulling fine without the hose. So whatever it was, it was somewhere in the hose.

He sighed, then picked up the dusty pen and poked at the vacuum end of the hose. Nothing there, of course. So, the far end. Hum, there was something in there. He could almost see it. Maybe...

He pushed the vacuum end of the hose up to the exhaust of the vacuum, and turned the switch on. The hose trembled, and... a ball or something popped out. Along with a spray of dusty crud.

He turned off the vacuum and dropped the hose. Then he looked at the ball that had come out. It was black and brown, kind of glistening in the lights. He had seen a golf ball without its cover once, the wrapped center. This looked kind of like that.

He grabbed a knife out of the silverware drawer, and poked at the ball. He heard a small snap, as if he had cut a tight rubber band. Suddenly, the ball quivered, and kind of bounced. Then...

It unrolled. There was no other way to describe it, although it bounced and quivered as it did it. It left a strange layer behind it, almost as if it was turning into a flattened hose or something. Then, as the ball disappeared, the layer quivered.

And it unfolded. The whole thing, flopping layers right and left. As they spread out, some of them split, and suddenly there was an outline of a man on the floor. Dressed in a strange costume, like you would see in a sideshow or something.

The eyes of the figure blinked. They were flat, and couldn’t move like that, but they did.

And then, as the figure’s mouth opened and he took a breath, his whole body started to swell up. It looked almost as if someone had pulled the air out of a balloon, leaving it flattened and wrinkled, and now somehow, the air was seeping back in and that balloon was slowly returning to its normal shape.

The man that had been in the vacuum sat up. He glanced at the knife and chuckled.

“Oh, you don’t need that. I am so glad that you released me from that curse! What can I do for you?”

The prompt this week at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/03/18/week-12-of-odd-prompts/ was pretty simple, just

“Not a Candidate for Reanimation.”

Which reminded me that I hadn’t had Gil, the chef for the monster hunters, visit HR and fill in forms yet. So...

Paperwork in HR. Or is it Inhuman Relations?

Most of the paperwork that HR wanted Gil to fill out was ordinary stuff. Direct deposit, tax forms, a nice little retirement savings setup, health insurance... but Gil wasn't really expecting the ones about next of kin and so forth. The HR lady had explained everything as they went through, making sure he understood before he signed anything. And then...

"What's this one? Reanimation release? Huh?"

The HR lady bit her lip.

“Look, Gil? Can I call you Gil, and my name’s Kathryn, okay?”

He nodded.

"Well, Gil, the question is, should the company reanimate you in the event of your death on company time or not? So you can... well, finish up your employment duties?"

Gil squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and rubbed his forehead.

"What?"

She smiled.

"If you have religious reservations or something, I can always just mark your records as 'Not a Candidate for Reanimation.' We have several employees like that. It'll be on your work badge, too, so if you happen to die while working, well, people will know that you prefer not to be reanimated."

Gil gulped.

"Reanimated? You mean they could bring me back to life?"

She shook her head.

"It's not really you. I mean, once you are dead, the soul has gone wherever, what is left isn't exactly you. But they can get you moving again, and the meat will do what it is told for a while. It does degenerate pretty quickly, and..."

Now Gil nodded.

"Oh. Okay. So more like a zombie or something?"

She chuckled.

"Not quite, but almost. Maybe a meat robot? A golem? Take my word for it, you aren't there, but your body can still perform simple actions..."

He looked over the form again, and realized that it actually included some other options. Did he want to allow the company to use his organs after his death? What? He put his finger on that option, and looked at the lady. Kathryn, that’s right.

“What’s this?”

She looked at his finger, and nodded.

“Well, in case you don’t allow reanimation, or reanimation fails, which does happen sometimes, you need to decide whether to allow the company to use your organs or not. It’s kind of like donating your organs for medical use?”

She bit her lip when she said that, and he blinked.

“Except it’s not really medical use, right?” he said.

“Well, not usually. Although they do sometimes use them for rebuilding...” her voice trailed off, and she looked Gil straight in the eye, and shook her head. “No, actually they are likely to use the organs for various rituals and invocations. Also, some of the monsters do like a bite of human flesh, so the company can trade with it.”

Gil looked over the form. Then he shook his head.

“If I’m dead, I don’t think what you do with the meat means much. So... put me down for reanimation, and for organ donation, too. Which boxes do I check for that, and then where do I sign?”

She pointed at the boxes, and he checked them off. Then he signed it.

“Now, your badge will say, on the back, candidate for reanimation and organ donor. Don’t be surprised, okay, Gil?” She smiled as she said it, and he smiled back. He wondered how anyone could be surprised, after filling in the form. But maybe people didn’t pay attention to what they were signing?

All too soon, she gathered all the papers into a neat little stack, and put part of them in a plastic sleeve for him to take. He had receipts and duplicates of all kinds. And a little cover sheet showing exactly what he had filled out and signed today.

She stood up when he did. Then she leaned forward and shook his hand.

“I’m glad to have met you, Gil Sanderson. I look forward to seeing you in the cafeteria.”

He gulped and held her hand a little longer.

“I’m glad I met you, too, Kathryn. And... well, say hello when you’re in the cafeteria. And what’s your favorite dish? I’ll bet we can make it.”

She chuckled.

“Actually, I’m from Alabama, and I haven’t had a good breakfast in a while. Grits, biscuits with red eye gravy, eggs easy over, and ham? Think you can manage that?”

Now he laughed.

“Ma’am, I’ve been a short order cook in a diner, and that’s one of the regular orders. No problem, you just tell them you want me to make a Southern special, and I’ll whip it up for you.”

He let her hand go, took a tighter grip on the folder of papers, and turned and walked out of the HR office. He almost felt like whistling. He had a job again, and at least one customer that he knew he could please. Kathryn. He’d have to remember her name. Alabama Katie? That made him chuckle, and would probably help him remember her name, although he wouldn’t call her that. He’d have to make sure they had some grits, too.

To be continued...

The prompt at https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/2020/03/11/week-11-of-odd-prompts/ was

The little tree in the small tree plot in the sidewalk right in front of your house (this is a city sidewalk tree) is putting out small pink flowers, leaves are budding and the tree is clearly ready for spring. But it’s mid-January. What’s going on?

Here's one answer...

Sit, Monster! (700 words)

By Mike Barker

Gil looked at the three-headed dog on the sidewalk, and shook his head as all three heads watched him with big doggy grins. They barked, then it turned, lifted its leg, and marked the tree in the sidewalk in front of his old brownstone.

Across the street, Mrs. Miller laughed. When he looked, she was leaning out of her kitchen window, watching the dog.

"Nice dog you got there, Gil," she called. "Some kind of boxer?"

Gil glanced at the dog. Well, if you didn't see the extra heads, maybe. When they brought the pups in at work, one of the monster hunters told him that no one else would see the extra heads, but he really had trouble believing it.

"I think he's a boxer mix, at least. Turned up at work, followed me home, and..."

She cackled. "And now he's your roommate. Oh, I know how that story goes. That's how I got Philly."

Philly, her black cat, jumped into the window.

The three-headed dog barked, and Philly sat down and cleaned a paw.

“Oh, he’s a feisty one! What’s his name?”

Gil chuckled.

“Well, I’ve been calling him Monster, but...”

Mrs, Miller laughed.

“That’s a good name for him! He’s a big one. Enjoy your walk, now!”

The next morning, it was snowing. Just a little spray, not too unusual for January.

But when Gil wrapped up and walked Monster out to the tree, he was astounded to see the branches starting to grow light green leaves, and a spray of pink flowers in two or three places. Monster, of course, just lifted his leg and marked the tree, as he had been doing ever since he moved in with Gil. Gil looked at the three-headed dog, and the tree clearly heading into spring despite the snow and the temperature, and shook his head. They told him at the office that they wanted him to report anything unusual that happened with the dog, so he'd have to tell them about this later.

When they got back from their walk, there was a city truck pulled up in the street, and a man in a uniform looking at the tree. When Gil got closer, he could see it was a Parks uniform. Gil started to walk around him. Of course, Monster had to stop and water the tree again.

“Oh! Is this your dog that’s been ... well, pissing on the tree?”

Gil turned. The man was looking at Monster, and smiling.

“Yes? I don’t think there’s any rule against it, is there? I mean, you can’t really stop a dog.”

The man laughed.

“No, no, that’s fine. It’s just... every now and then, we get these trees that decide that it’s spring way before anywhere else, and we try to track down what in their environment leads to it. I’ll make a note that a dog has been pissing on it, but I really doubt that is what is doing it. After all, just about every tree gets that treatment, right?”

Gil nodded. He wondered just how many three-headed dogs were wandering around, but he wasn’t going to talk about that with the Parks man. Who had already turned back to the tree, and was looking at it, with a big smile.

“I’m sure it’s just a local variation in temperature and maybe in the genetics of the tree. Pretty, though. It might cheer people up if we can get more trees to act like this.”

Gil looked at the tree, the light green leaves and pink flowers lifting into the light snow flurry, and he had to admit, it was cheerful.

Then Monster rubbed against his leg, and Gil reached down and scratched behind his ears. Then one head pushed another head out of the way, and Gil had to scratch again. And once more.

Gil chuckled as Monster shook his ears. The Parks man laughed.

"That dog keeps you busy, doesn't he? But he looks pretty happy."

Monster gave a small bark, almost as if he understood. The Parks man got back in his truck and drove away.

Then Gil and Monster went inside, and watched the snow falling gently on the tree.

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'nother Mike

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A Word in Your Eye

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A Unicorn in the Back 40? (550 words)

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Can I have some of that?

Into the Woods (800 words)

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Fragments: Girl Scouts in the Sanitarium?

What Happened Under The Aurora (590 words)

Watch Where You Stick That Vacuum Cleaner Hose! (500 words)

Not a Candidate for Reanimation

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