The Good Deed (a Halloween story)


The Halloween Tree

The Halloween Tree (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

On Halloween night I would advise you to be wary of strangers.  In the movies a stranger always turns out to be crazy.  But what about your best friend?  Can you trust him?     

 

 

 

The Good Deed

 

 

 

The branches of the trees reach out like long grasping fingers trying to pluck out my heart. The trees play games on Halloween but I ignore their sick antics.  I love lying here under the trees, planning good deeds, and watching rescue teams try desperately to save someone.

 

There is more than tree branches to fear.  There’s the river.  Its cold dark waters keep calling me and inviting me to swim.  But I suppose the river lures many people down its banks to take a quick dip.  I’m too smart to fall for the river’s tricks.  The current could drag someone down very quickly while he was struggling and gasping for breath.  I can imagine it so clearly.

 

My friend always walks along here at night….about this time, too!  How can he stand it? It’s so quiet.  It’s even spookier when the clouds hide the moon’s face.

 

He always said that he wanted to die while he was happy.  He wanted to go quickly, too, not a slow agonizing death.  He told me today (when he said he was going to get married) that he was happier now than he’s ever been before.  That’s why I picked tonight.

 

He did me a favor once.  He shoved me out of the way of a speeding car.  I never saw it coming, but he did!  I was so proud he was my friend.   Not many people would risk their lives for someone else.   He was in the hospital for eight months.  That’s the reason I’m doing him this favor.

 

I can hear his voice and he’s not alone.  He’s with his fiancé and they’re talking about how they want to be together for the rest of their lives.  She said it would be romantic if they died together.

 

I guess I can do that.  I’ll change my plans to include her.  They’re lost in love.  They don’t even see me.

 

I’ll have the element of surprise.  One quick shove and they’ll be in.

 

Now!

 

She went under fast.  O, there she is again.  He’s trying to save her.  He’s calling for help.   I can’t let him ruin things. I’ll help him go under.  He’s a real friend.  It’s worth it.  The water’s cold!

 

He fought harder than I thought he would.  I almost drowned.  Next year my good deed will have to be better planned.  I don’t want something to go wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

Expiration Date


Expiration Date (film)

Expiration Date (film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

Expiration Date

 

Questions without answers drive me out of my mind,

 

And one answer in particular has been hard to find,

 

I’ve been noticing the labels on products in stores,

 

All the way to the ceilings and down to the floors,

 

From the ones I think marginal to the ones first-rate,

 

They’re all bar coded and have an expiration date,

 

Now I’ve been wondering but I’m not sure it’s true,

 

Are there expiration dates stamped on me and you?

 

Although I’ve inspected my skin from head to toes,

 

That date might still be hidden right under my nose,

 

There is so much to know and I want to relate,

 

What conditions are expected with my expiration date?

 

Am I like a fragrance and age pleasantly over time?

 

Or will I degrade quickly after I pass my prime?

 

No longer guaranteed to be as effective as before,

 

Even with a receipt I can’t be returned to the store,

 

Freshness, quality assurance, an answer I seek,

 

How long will it be before I’m past flavor’s peak?

 

Am I like a Golden Delicious that’s juicy and sweet,

 

And then become rotten and not fit to eat?

 

Do I have a warranty that’s determined by fate?

 

Or should I just expect to gradually deteriorate?

 

If I don’t have an answer then what will I do?

 

Time will expire without a chance to renew.

 

 

 

 

 

Your Pets Know


English: There Cap'n Goldsack goes, creeping, ...

English: There Cap’n Goldsack goes, creeping, creeping, creeping, Looking for his reasure down below!: illustration of a pirate ghost. This was originally published in Sharp, William (July 1902). “Cap’n Goldsack”. Harper’s Magazine. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Your Pets Know

 

When you’re alone or scared at night and feeling very tense,

 

Who knows what dogs hear, and who knows what they sense,

 

A dog might snarl and show her teeth while staring at a wall,

 

Someone might have entered the room, yet you see nothing at all,

 

When the silence gets too loud, during the time that you fear most,

 

You’ll wish you had a dog around, to warn you of the ghosts,

 

A faint smell of decaying flesh or a chill running up your spine,

 

Is enough to put your teeth on edge, but when the dog starts to whine,

 

A powerful force is in the room, sharing your time and space,

 

Your dog will remain beside you, as the ghost meets you face to face.

 

A cat, on the other hand, might hiss and arch his back,

 

A cat knows whether friend or foe, and if the ghost will attack,

 

Should the cat stretch and purr, as if stroked by a ghostly hand,

 

There’s a gentle soul in the room, who hopes you understand,

 

If either the dog or the cat runs, terror evident in their eyes,

 

Then it might not be a simple ghost, but the devil in disguise,

 

Pull the covers over your head, should you be scared at night,

 

And if you want a chance to flee, keep your pets in sight.

 

 

 

The Monster from Forest Drive


English: Raider's Road, Forest Drive Sunlight ...

English: Raider’s Road, Forest Drive Sunlight shines through the new growth on the pine trees on the Raider’s Road, Forest Drive. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

The Monster From Forest Drive

 

 

 

A monster lived at forest edge,

 

Right at the end of Forest Drive,

 

His neighbors chose to lock their doors,

 

If they wished to stay alive.

 

 

 

Both his wings had been broken,

 

With a cane he could hardly walk,

 

He didn’t look mean or scary,

 

But he could talk real monster talk.

 

 

 

There were rumors he lived in the basement,

 

Others said the attic was his home,

 

He was often seen on cloudy days,

 

And at night he chose to roam.

 

 

 

He shuffles, he stumbles,

 

As he howls at the moon,

 

He is sure to catch one of you,

 

If he’s not caught real soon.

 

 

 

 

 

No one knew where he came from,

 

He suddenly appeared one day,

 

The neighborhood was upset he was there,

 

Because he took their place to play.

 

 

 

Their meeting place had been at forest edge,

 

Where their bonfires often lit the sky,

 

He built his house on their spot,

 

Without telling them his reason why.

 

 

 

He snorts, he chuckles,

 

He’s covered with blood and gore,

 

Waiting for the lights to go off,

 

He stands quietly by the door.

 

 

 

The witches of the cul-de-sac,

 

Stirred up a powerful brew,

 

They thought their potion lethal,

 

But he said, “Thank you.  I’ll have two.”

 

 

 

To their surprise he took a sip,

 

Without losing his feeble mind,

 

There seemed to be no aftereffects,

 

Except the foot he dragged behind.

 

 

 

He shuffles, he stumbles,

 

As he howls at the moon,

 

He is sure to catch one of you,

 

If he’s not caught real soon.

 

 

 

Blood-red wine was his favorite drink,

 

And bones he chewed for lunch,

 

All thought his manners were impeccable,

 

Royal blood would be their hunch.

 

 

 

One dark night they gathered,

 

To discuss his solitary ways,

 

He had made them all uncomfortable,

 

For five years, two months, and ten days.

 

 

 

He snorts, he chuckles,

 

He’s covered with blood and gore,

 

Waiting for the lights to go off,

 

He stands quietly by the door.

 

 

 

In a large casket they sealed him,

 

No more to see the light,

 

Security police accidently let him loose,

 

And he slipped quietly into the night.

 

 

 

Somewhere in this vast country,

 

He was last seen entering a town,

 

Hunters of all kinds searched the woods,

 

But no monster could be found.

 

 

 

He shuffles, he stumbles,

 

As he howls at the moon,

 

He is sure to catch one of you,

 

If he’s not caught real soon.

 

 

 

He snorts, he chuckles,

 

He’s covered with blood and gore,

 

Waiting for the lights to go off,

 

He stands quietly by the door.

 

 

 

I Am a Poet


Poetry Workshop by Pooja Nansi 3

Poetry Workshop by Pooja Nansi 3 (Photo credit: Steel Wool)

I Am a Poet

When I began writing poetry I tried to make one person happy…me. I read the poetry of others and discovered amazing blogs and posts and felt intimidated But I kept writing because I wanted to see how I could be.

I am an artist who paints with words,

Splashing color and feelings around,

I am a musician who saturates the air,

Strumming across hearts with sound.

I am a doctor who feels the wounds,

Stopping the bleeding of those in pain.

I am a teacher who educates a child,

Sharing wisdom like drops of rain.

I am a world citizen who lends a hand,

Giving a village a new chance.

I am someone who cares about others,

Challenging the world to dance.

If I could add a few golden words,

Changing frowns into glorious grins,

Then I would know I’ve done my job,

For a smile is where poetry begins.

I Loved From Afar


Album cover of From Afar by Ensiferum.

Album cover of From Afar by Ensiferum. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I Loved From Afar

 

I admired her from afar,

 

She had the eyes of an angel,

 

The smile of a devil,

 

She swore like a sailor,

 

And had a silver tongue like a lawyer,

 

The flair of an actress,

 

Told stories like a fisherman,

 

Lied like a trooper,

 

And wrote like a poet,

 

Studied like a scholar,

 

Worked like a carpenter,

 

If she had cared like a nurse,

 

Or showed one shred of remorse,

 

I would not have feared her,

 

I could have risked and loved,

 

Willing to learn from being vulnerable,

 

Squeezing success away from failure,

 

Telling her how much I cared,

 

But I feared making a mistake,

 

I was terrified I would be rejected,

 

So I left happiness lying in the street,

 

While I ran with my eyes and heart closed,

 

Keeping my emotions bottled up,

 

And I loved from afar,

 

Safe for another day,

 

Or maybe an eternity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Melt My Heart of Stone


When my daughter was only three,

She was as independent as can be,

On the playground she could hear me calling,

“Wait for me!  I don’t want you falling.”

But she would race toward the slide,

Even at that tender age she had pride,

“Me do it!” she would stubbornly insist,

She refused my help and would resist,

Hardheaded and independent, (just like her father).

So why should I try to help?  Why even bother?

As the years passed by, I didn’t get any wiser,

I didn’t save love and I didn’t become a miser,

I didn’t seek truth from wise men near and far,

I relied on myself to follow a distant star,

“Me do it!” I shouted to the heavens above,

“Why do I need help to learn the ways of love?”

Fair maidens passed often in the depths of night,

But their hearts were broken, sad was their plight,

I was too independent so I remained alone,

Hard-headed but sad, my heart turned to stone,

Who could open her heart and give me a chance?

Who could love enough to spark new romance?

I learned to accept help from any source I can,

I became less difficult; I became a calmer man,

With years of experience I became smarter too,

I decided not to rely on me; I wanted to depend on you,

Working and playing together as a team,

We could turn my world into a better dream,

Man was not meant to be alone,

“Help me please; melt my heart of stone!”