Moon Worshipers

Chimera 66 #8


Crow moon lifts his head from the eastern horizon. His favorite wives, Jupiter and Regulus, are already awake – lighting his path. Spring is nigh.

The rest of his harem; wives and concubines alike, will wake soon. Collectively they will dance, with wild abandon, across the night sky; casting their pale light upon the Malpais.

Melissa and Letty sit on the warm car and raise their glasses.


Second place!!

 

Melissa Katz

GrammarGhoulPress.com


I woke that morning and could feel her head on my shoulder. Her dark curly hair was covering my face and in my mouth. I brushed it aside and looked to see who shared the bed with me. Lying with me there, in the bed, was none other than Melissa Katz.

Melissa Katz had been the object of my desire since third grade when Mrs. Rearden had seated us alphabetically and she occupied the desk in front of me because Melissa Katz came right before David Kendall. I would stare at her long dark cascading hair and dream while passing her notes to and from Letty Martinez, her best friend, seated behind me. I was new in town and had separated them. So to say that there was some resentment would be an understatement. I had loved her all through school but she would barely say hello to me. I was an extra in the movie that was her life. She was beautiful. She dated athletes, and artists. I was ordinary. I took auto shop and PE.

I searched my memory, had I really slept with Melissa Katz? Where did I meet up with her? Had we done… anything? Did I enjoy it? Did she?

I could feel her body pressed against mine. I lifted the covers to take a peek and she stirred. I dropped them again quickly. She raised her head and looked at me through bleary eyes, “Hi,” she said. “Is it morning?”

I couldn’t speak, I mean… I was in bed with Melissa Katz and I was naked. I simply nodded my head.

“Jesus what a night.” She said and she sat up. My heart jumped to my throat. She was naked too, and not modest either. Something must have happened. Why couldn’t I remember? I needed to remember!

I watched as her eyes looked around my bedroom, taking it in. “Where am I?” she asked, “Is this your house?”

I nodded again.

“Got any coffee?”

I nodded a third time and somehow managed to croak out, “Yeah, I’ve just gotta make it.”

I got out of bed, suddenly shy, and kept my back to her while I pulled on jeans from the night before.

“Hey, do I know you?” she asked. “You look kinda familiar.” She smiled.

My heart melted. It was illogical, but undeniable, Melissa Katz was sitting naked in my bed, smiling. Smiling at me and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Everything was right with the world. Finally I tore myself away and went to the kitchen to fiddle with the Mr. Coffee machine. As I closed the top and pushed the button to start the drip she came in; wearing only one of my dress shirts. She had missed one of the buttons so the front wasn’t sitting right. She was beautiful.

“I remember you now.” She said, “We went to school together.”

“Yeah, from third grade, when my folks moved us to town.”

“Jim…” she said, clapping her hands; then pointing at me, “Your name is Jim.”


I’m truly surprised by this! But, I’m happy and proud – thanks guys!

Better Safe Than Sorry


“But Father, it’s awkward,” said the princess to the king.
“I know Princess, but it’s ‘til you turn sixteen.”

“I’ve been looking, at the others, scattered through the land.
Why…
am I the only girl with a thimble?
On each finger of my hands?”

“Settle down now darling.
Don’t get overwrought.
There was talk about a curse but it is prob’ly all for naught.”

“Or not!”


 

A Downward Spiral


I first noticed the ants on the morning after the barbeque that she and I had hosted. I spotted them as I was taking my coffee on the patio. They emerged from a crack between the pavers and were carrying away scraps of food that had fallen the night before; pausing to break up pieces of bread and such that were too large to fit down between the tiles. Soon they had scoured the entire area, and no trace of food remained above ground.

Did they store it down there? Did they eat it right away? Was a banquet in progress for the queen, even as I watched their industrious labors? What else were they taking?

I worried.

War was declared and I battled the invaders using pesticides, ammonia, bleach, and water. Every day I deployed new weapons but nothing stopped them and I became obsessed – so overly focused that I ceased to care about the people and things that I loved and that were important to me. In turn, the ants would catch me unaware and climb up my pant legs biting and stinging until my ankles were covered with a bright red rash. They also began foraging in the house. I doubled my efforts.

#

When I found her note telling me she was leaving she had already been gone for two days. I hadn’t noticed. I was battling ants, like a fool. I had been mixing up concoctions of dish soap, vinegar, or lemon juice. I had built a wall of boric acid powder around the entrance to their nest. I sat heavily on the stone pavers, not far from where the ants,who obviously knew she had left, would emerge to laugh at me before quickly ducking back down into their underground labyrinth. The weight of what I had lost was heavy and my heart crashed to the ground where it was quickly retrieved by my enemies. Numbly I watched them carry it over the ineffective poison wall I had built to contain them. I stared blankly for hours as they tore my heart into pieces small enough to fit down into their warren. There was nothing I could do to stop them.

When the last piece disappeared below ground, darkness had fallen and I realized that I was now faced with a choice.

I could steel my resolve and re-double my efforts to eradicate my enemies from the face of the earth or I could find a way to live in harmony with them, much like the way we had coexisted before the morning I first noticed them.

What had changed that morning? Why had I turned them into monsters? Why had I been compelled to exterminate them?

I had lost so much. My lover was gone; I could feel my sanity slipping. Was it their fault really?

My heart was missing. I felt nothing, I was broken. I determined that it was indeed their fault and I must punish them. Using a five gallon Jerry can, I poured a path of gasoline from the front door to the patio, generously splashing walls and furniture along the way. I soaked the entrance to their home and everything surrounding it. I returned to the front door and tossed a match onto the petrol soaked carpet so I could watch the flames run down the hall towards the patio at the back of the house. I closed the door and moved to the middle of the road waiting to savor my victory. My only regret was that I could not hear them scream. Now, they had truly taken everything from me; my companion, my home, and even my humanity. As the fire engines arrived the gas can exploded on the patio and I began to have second thoughts, but it was too late to ask for forgiveness.

I was the monster now.


 Got cold in here again. Enjoy.

No One Noticed


We called her Chillie. I don’t know why – we just always had. When she handed me the bottle I looked in her eyes.

I shouldn’t have.

She scared me. She was Mount St. Helens, she was Eyjafjallajokull.

She was volcanic, ready to blow.

“How high are we?” I asked.

“I’m pretty high,” she said, then took the bottle back and drank.

I tried to remember the elevator ride. I thought we got off on 17 and then ran up two flights after that. I did the math and followed her over to the edge. I loved her.

“I can hit the pool from here.” She announced.

Taking three steps back, she ran to the edge and hurled herself out, flying silently downward.

She didn’t make the pool, nor did the tequila she clutched in her fist all the way down.

I heard her hit from the roof. I heard the oomph as the breath she had held was forced out. I heard the bottle shatter.

Then I heard only silence.

No one noticed.


Not sure why I went this way with these prompts but it got real cold, real fast.

It’s OK though. Just a story. You can smile now!

The Interview of Merlon Zu’ul


 

Handleman straightened the nameplate on his desk and studied the wizened visage of Merlon Zu’ul. “You’ve an unusual name, is it European?”

He glanced down at the file he held.

“An old name,” Zu’ul answered.

“And an impressive CV, but we’re looking for financial backgrounds. Advisors to assist our clients grow their wealth and; well frankly, you have a doctorate in Mediaeval Alchemy.”

“Exactly.” Zu’ul intoned.


Second Place in the Chimera 66 #3 Challenge – Thanks again.

Call me Stu!

Third place in the Mutant 750 #18 Challenge – Thanks


When I was born Ma named me Stuart,
but my da’, he called me Stu.
It were his name, you see.
It were his da’s name too.

Besides the sharing of our name,
we shared a taste in food.
We shared a taste for Bouillabaisse,
we shared a taste for Stew.

Coq au vin, Mechado, or perhaps an Étouffée;
Bourguignon, or Ragout, maybe a Cassoulet

Just say the word I’ll ladle out a
great big bowl for you

Of Chili, Compote, Gumbo,
Feijoada, or Mulligan Stew.

I like mine best when made with Beef;
unless there’s Lamb or Fish.
Often pork or chicken can make it quite a dish.

Now my da’ he’s in the churchyard.
My granda’, he’s there too.
Each New Year’s Day I visit them and this is what I do:

I spend an hour chopping veg-tables,
another dicing meat.
I cook it for at least eight more,
and when it’s fit to eat;
I take it to the graveyard and
I share it with my kin;
Put bowls upon their headstones
and invite them to dig in.

This year I made them Goulash,
last year a Pot-au-feu.
But I know that up in heaven –
they are always eating stew.