WEP Close Encounters

Greetings all WEP’ers and visitors. If you don’t know what WEP is, Write, Edit, Publish. It’s a bloghop that takes different writing challenges so you and I can flex our writing muscles. But, if you don’t want to write a story, that’s okay too. Post pictures or tell us about something related to the prompt going on in your life. Are you a poet? Hit us up with something wonderful. To read what others have written go here.

For June 2023, our prompt is the movie, Close Encounters. The good news is, you don’t have to be an abductee or an alien to participate. Our lovely host are Nila, and Jemi.

 

Here’s my story.

These characters are from my on going sweet romance, 5 Friends & Lovers, available on Amazon, Kindle Vella. This particular episode will be interwoven into some future spot.

Characters:

Scott: A comedian

David: A suspense author

Doug: A high school gym teacher/coach

To keep down the characters, their ladies are elsewhere.

 

Tagline: Alien Discussion

Close Encounter or Not

David, Scott, and Doug sat around the living room while their ladies were in the kitchen making lunch.

“Did you hear the *Elvis Theater is running classic Sci/Fi movies?” Doug asked.

“Which ones?” Scott asked, leaning forward to lift his cup of coffee.

“The remake of, The Day The Earth Stood Still, War of the Worlds, and classics, ET, and Close Encounters.  They’re showing them mid-week on Wednesday, one at a time,” Doug said.

“I love Close Encounters,” David said.

“Me too,” Scott said. “Richard Dreyfus went insane and made a mess of his home. My mother found that disturbing, but I laughed. Then there’s ET, staring a turtle without his shell flying away in a Christmas ornament.”

Doug and David both laughed.  

“I thought we could take our babes. Wanna do that together?” Doug asked.

“Wednesday night?” Scott repeated.

“Yeah,” Doug said.

“They aren’t playing all of them the same Wednesday?” David asked.

“Nope,” Doug said. “One at a time.”

“I’m in now to convince our ladies,” David said.

“Do either of you believe in aliens and UFOs,” Scott asked.

“I think it’s a possibility,” Doug said.

“UFOs are now UAPs,” David said.

“What does that mean?” Doug asked.

“Unidentified aerial phenomenon,” David said.

“I find it difficult to believe a bunch of gray aliens are running around abducting people. If they came after me, I’d ask, why don’t you wear sandals to go along with your nudity,” Scott said.

David and Doug laughed again.

“Actually,” David said. “Some believe they are wearing a body suit.”

“That makes sense,” Doug said.

“Where’s the zipper,” Scott quipped, and the other two smirked.

“So, what planet do they come from?” Doug asked.

“The powers that be are debating that, naming several locations. I can’t remember exactly what they said,” David answered.

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Doug said.

“I know a little. I watch the various shows, mostly to get story ideas.”

“You write suspense, don’t you? How do aliens and detectives merge?” Scott sipped his coffee.

“Yeah, how does that work?” Doug sat back and crossed one leg over the other at the ankle.

“I really just get ideas about locations and people, too,” David said.

“Like what?” Doug asked.

“Well,” David said. “One show I watched featured a man who has been abducted since childhood. As a young man, he took his girlfriend on a camping trip. The aliens showed up, froze her, and then they inspected her and told him she wasn’t good enough. Afterward, his girlfriend, a Christian, left him. Later, he became Born-Again, and the aliens haven’t been back.

“An entire group of people who believe the aliens are really demons and quote Bible verses to support that idea.”

“Demons?!” Scott and Doug said together.

David held up both hands. “I’m just reporting what I saw on a show. I have no opinion, one way or the other.

“Another show I watched,” David continued. “Claims that Bigfoot is brought here by aliens because there are UAPs whenever there are Bigfoot sightings.”

“You watch some pretty weird shows,” Doug said.

“That I do.”

“So, which movie is showing first?” Scott asked.

“This Wednesday, it’s Close Encounters,” Doug said.

To that, Scott started whistling the Close Encounter alien tune.

Word Count 552

*The Elvis theater is a discount theater in Colorado. All the shows David has watched, I have watched and is true. And, I watch that stuff for the same reason.

I hope you enjoyed the story. All critique is okay by me. Comments are encouraged.

Announcement: My books are on sale for 99cents. See links on the side. And, the last book in the series, book 4, The Curse of Renwyk is now available. Below is the Amazon link. It’s not on my website yet.

                                                Amazon.com

                                                            Amazon/uk

                                                            Amazon/au $1.09

Thank you,

Nancy

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face Write Edit Publish Bloghop

Celine Dion The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.

The last story of the year for Write, Edit, Publish is based on the song, ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. One of my absolute favorite songs of all time. This song can mean so many different things to people. My take is below.

I want to thank our lovely ladies for their hard work sponsoring this bloghop. Denise, Olga, Laura, Renee, Nila, and Jemma.

Tagline: Love, acceptance, compassion.

His Face…

Absolute love and acceptance. I hadn’t expected this. I was raised in a strict Christian religion and hadn’t gone for years. Yet, despite all my mistakes, there was no judgment. Only love. Love permeated the core of my being.

“I had a baby,” I said.

He smiled. “Yes, my beloved. Your son is healthy.”

“A boy.” I was old school and wanted to be surprised.

“You have a choice,” Jesus said. “You can stay or go back.”

“Oh…” to stay in all this vibrant beauty, unconditional love, and acceptance. But…”I have a baby.”

He nodded, accepting my choice.

Eleanor heard the beeping of the monitor before she opened her eyes. And, the memory. The sweet, sweet memory.

He stood before her, his robes glowing with white brilliance, her savior. His smile filled her with peace and love, deep and all-consuming. Then she heard the monitor.

Eleanor opened her eyes to a room full of medical equipment lit with fluorescent lights. Her husband was sprawled in a chair, head back, mouth open, snoring. He hadn’t shaved, and his face was splotched with whiskers too dark to just be a day’s worth. How long had she been dead?

Yes, she’d been dead. She was sure of it. Her memories of heaven were too complete and more real than this world.

“Josh.” Her mouth was dry, and it came out like a squeak. “Josh,” she said again, a little louder.

He jerked, opened his eyes, and then sat. Fear creased his brow, and she watched as it smoothed and then a smile. His smile. The one she fell in love with on their first date years ago.

He stood and came to her taking her hand. “You’re alive. You made it!”

“I am. I did. The baby?” She didn’t care about anything else at the moment. It’d been a struggle to get pregnant. Years of trying only to lose several babies until this one.

Josh bent and kissed the back of her hand. Then, grinning, he said, “It’s a boy. He’s perfect.”

“I know,” she said.

He didn’t act surprised. “I’ll tell the nurse to bring him.” Josh hurried out the door.

He was back, followed by a nurse who checked her vitals. “You’re a miracle,” the nurse said.

“I died,” Eleanor said.

“Yes,” the nurse answered. “Dr. Allen worked hard to save you.”

“I want to see my baby,” she said.

The nurse nodded and left. Shortly afterward, she was back pushing the hospital crib. Once there, she lifted the tiny bundle and nestled him in Eleanor’s arms. Everything slipped away as she gazed at her newborn’s face. Perfection in each detail, from his tiny nose to his eyebrows and mouth. Her body seemed to glide, and the room, nurse, and even Josh faded. She stood once more beyond the veil in a lush and vibrant garden. Love surrounded her. Acceptance and tenderness. Her baby boy opened his eyes, and she lifted her gaze to Jesus.

“My baby,” she said.

He smiled and touched the infant’s forehead. “Blessings on you both.”

“I give him to you.”

“I promise to always be with him and with you.”

Then, she was back in the hospital. The nurse was gone. Her heart was so full of love that she thought it would burst.

“What shall we name him?” Josh asked.

They’d been talking about a few different names. “Peter,” she said. It hadn’t been one they discussed, but it felt right. In fact, everything felt right.

“Peter,” Josh repeated. “It fits.” Then his fingers ran along the baby’s face, just as Jesus had done. Their baby smiled.

“We must go to church,” Eleanor said. “But maybe not my old one.”

If Josh was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Which one do you want to attend?”

“I don’t know.”

Josh leaned forward and kissed her, then he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

Word Count 648.

I’ve been watching near death-experience videos under Destiny Image on YouTube. What strikes me is how people relate the love of Jesus and his face. I remember the first time I looked at my daughter’s face after she was born. My heart swelled with love. I thought she was perfect. So, it seemed right to combine the two.

I hope that you will find encouragement in this story in some small way. Nancy

To read what others have written, go here.

 

WEP Please Read the Letter

 It’s time for the Write, Edit, Publish June challenge. I must thank Denise Covey for starting this bloghop, and to all the ladies shown below. It’s a great way to exercise your creative skills. For those who don’t know, flash fiction is 1,000 words or less. This month’s challenge is based on the song, “Please, Read the Letter. Below is a link to the song on YouTube.com

 

Tag line: Creating A Better Life.

Please Read the Letter

My phone started to play the Darth Vader tune. I’d assigned that ringtone to only one person. Frank. He must have found my letter. I left it on his pillow.

As I descended the hills the sun was low in the smog-filled California sky. It figured. Late as it was, Frank spent a couple hours with his drinking buddies after work. Darth Vader started announcing himself again and was interrupted by the voice of GPS telling me my turn was coming up. I was glad. I’d been driving for the last five hours, frequently stopping because I had to pee, a lot, as a seven-month-long pregnant woman.

My job had let me go. Figures. Frank didn’t pay the electric bill. Figures. Who would hire a pregnant woman? No one. Figures. My walls came crashing down. Clearly, there was nothing left for me with Frank.

My friend Heidi had offered to take me in, and I jumped at the chance. A new life in sunny California, smog and all. Arizona was in the rear view mirror along with Frank and our shared memories.

Darth Vader was calling again. I could almost hear Frank say, “Baby, baby, please pick up.” But, nope! This baby would never pick up for you again. My parrot, Jolly, agreed when he said, “Stop calling!”

First on the to-do list tomorrow. Get a new phone number. Then I’ll call mom and let her know. She lives in Minnesota and won’t approve of me leaving Frank, so I won’t tell her immediately. She never wrote down his number, thank God.

Heidi and I went way back to High School. We roomed together at University. She finished. I married Frank. God, I was stupid. But we talked, and I had a plan. I was going to finish and get my degree. She was going to help me. There was no better friend than Heidi. I loved her. She never played the ‘I told you so’ card.

GPS let me know I’d be there soon. Heidi lived in the hills above Los Angeles. She’d inherited the house after her parents died from COVID early on. I’d spent many long nights on the phone with her while she cried. Nothing like a pandemic to make it impossible to really be there for those you love. But now, it was over, and I’d see a lot of Heidi.

I turned into her driveway, stopped the car, and stretched. Darth Vader was irritating me to no end, so I turned off my phone and got out of the vehicle. And there was Heidi, her short-cropped curls bouncing as she ran to me. We hugged and laughed, and she rubbed my belly. Then she took my two suitcases, and I grabbed Jolly’s cage.  

Can I just say, I’m gonna love my new life!

 Word count: 473

 I’ve noticed that my stories have gotten shorter. This is either due to the fact that I’m a better writer, or that I’ve gotten lazy. Let know what you think. Nancy

 Are you writing to Kindle Vella? I am, here’s my link to Nilmalith’s Journey. The first three episodes are free and at an end is a thumbs up symbol. Help me get higher on the scale so more readers can find me, by reading and hitting the thumbs up. If you can write a review, that helps too. Also, if you enjoy my story and head over every week, Amazon gives you the option to have a 'fave.' When enough people choose my story as a 'fave,' I earn a crown and my story becomes a featured story so more readers find it. I really appreciate your help. Thanks. Nancy

I know Kindle Vella is currently only offered in America. It's a success, so let Amazon know you want to write to it too.

To read go to:  https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0B2QBYRYN

                                        

 

Kindle Vella is a success. If you don’t have it yet, let Amazon know you want it.

 Any critique is fine. 

To read what others have written for this month’s challenge, go here.

 

 

All You Need is Love WEP

 Write, Edit, Publish February 2022. WEP was founded by Denise Covey and brings together many writer’s, poets, artists, and regular folks to participate in a bloghop every few months. In addition to Denise, WEP has a few helpers: Renee, Nilla, Laura, Jemi, and Olga. Thank you, ladies. To read what others have posted go here.

 This is the year of music, and to start things off on the musical notes our song is written and sung by The Beatles, ‘All You Need is Love!’ To listen to the song, go here.

I once heard Paul McCartney answer a questions posed to him about the Beatles promoting love and anti-war messages. He said, “…It could have been the other way.” That made me think of original rap music that used a lot of hate speech and I was thankful to have spent my teen years listening to, and singing songs about love.

In more news, I’m adding a new genre to my writing life, Sweet Romance, so my story below is both sweet and romantic. I hope you enjoy. N. R. Williams (Nancy).

 

 

Tag: When love comes around again.

 

Love, love, love!

 

Lucy slipped the Beatles CD into the player and began to dance while she dusted to ‘All You Need is Love.’ Her parents were huge Beatles fans, and she grew up singing and dancing to their music. Now older and retired, she found this a great way to keep in shape.

Thanks to her late husband, Bruce, her three-bedroom ranch was paid for. . And so was her Tesla, parked in the garage. Luv, her daughter by her first husband, an abusive jerk, had finished university debt-free, thanks to Bruce. And he adopted her, dotting on her. Now she was a Science teacher and married, living only a few blocks away.

The CD changed songs, and she slipped into the guest bathroom to wipe it down. Her cell chirped. Removing the phone from her pocket, she answered.

“Hi, Melinda.”

“Hay, girl, are you ready?” Melinda asked.

“As ready as I can be.”

“I can’t wait.” Melinda referred to their planned trip to Scotland. She was a big ‘Outlander’ fan, and Lucy liked the show enough to follow Melinda’s long discourse about each character.

*

A month later, she found herself standing in line with Melinda. Luv had dropped them off.

The trip was long and uneventful. Jet lag was a problem the first three days. Then, from the time they woke to the time they went to bed, they toured the ‘Outlander’ sites. But, Lucy had to admit, she was having fun. When their week in Scotland was over, they hired a man to drive them to Liverpool, and Lucy had a list of sights made famous by the Beatles.

Their last week was to be spent in London. They sat together in the hotel’s upscale dining room, looking at the menu with all the delicious offerings. Melinda quickly ordered, but Lucy stared at the menu as if her brain had shut off.

“May I join you?” A man with an impeccable British accent said.

“Of course, I’m Melinda, and this is Lucy.”

Lucy looked up then as he sat and saw a handsome older man with gray hair and a prominent nose that wasn’t too big.

“My name is Henry Spencer.” His smile dazzled, and Lucy could see Melinda blush.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Are you having trouble deciding what to order?” he asked.

“Yeah, so many choices,” Lucy said.

“May I recommend the Beef Wellington?”

When the waiter came, he ordered champagne. “To celebrate our meeting,” he said.

They enjoyed their meal and ordered dessert too, though Lucy only took one bite.

On their second bottle of champagne, he asked. “Where in the Colonies are you from?”

“Denver, Colorado,” Melinda blurted out.

“Ah Denver, I’ve always wanted to visit.” He smiled at Lucy with a massive dose of charm, reminding her of Mr. Abuse, her second husband who’d charmed her initially. But, once the punches started, she left.

“A man like you must be married,” Lucy said, and Melinda jabbed her with her fist under the table.

“Oh I was,” he said. “But my wife passed on three years ago, and my sons are married with their own busy lives.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lucy said.

“Lucy’s a widow too,” Melinda burst out. Then, it was her turn to jab Melinda.

“My condolences,” Henry said.

She nodded. “Spencer was Princess Diana’s maiden name wasn’t it? Are you related?”

“Yes, it was, and no, there are quite a few Spencer’s.”

Melinda giggled like a schoolgirl, and Lucy looked at her like, what is wrong with you?

“May I offer you my services to tour London? I have the entire week off.”

Lucy would’ve declined, but Melinda beat her to it with an excited yes.

*

The week passed much too quickly. Finally, Henry gave them a ride to the airport.

“I should have asked sooner,” Lucy said. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m in the import, export business.”

“How interesting,” Melinda said.

Black market, Lucy thought. But the truth was, she believed him a pretty nice man.

*

Once back home, Lucy slept for a week, off and on. Her internal clock was seriously messed up.

Luv came over with her husband, Rob, for dinner two Sunday’s later. He was a firefighter, and Lucy liked him a lot. They were all about to sit down when the doorbell rang.

Lucy went to the door and opened it to find Henry Spencer standing there.

“I thought I’d take the plunge and come for a visit,” he said.

Lucy remained, her mouth open, and then said, “Come in. We were just about to have dinner.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t trouble you.”

“No trouble at all.” When they reached the kitchen table, Lucy introduced everyone, and Luv pulled another plate, quickly making a place for him.

“My mom makes the best spaghetti,” Luv said.

“I love spaghetti,” Henry said.

Lucy served him everyone a salad, and everyone helped themselves to the main dish.

At the end of dinner, while Luv and Rob did dishes, Henry leaned toward Lucy and said. “I’m hoping you’ll give me a tour of your beautiful city.”

Lucy smiled. “I’ll do better than that, I’ll take you to my favorite mountain town.”

 

Word count: 871

Cover Reveal! I'm so excited to announce my 3rd in series book, The Emperor of the Moon and Stars. Available everywhere, April 1, 2022. I will have a pre-order available soon.

Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment.

 

To sign up for my free newsletter and get a free short story, or to order a book written by little old me, go to my website. 

WEP Challenge for Halloween Scream

 Time for our favorite Halloween bloghop with the writers at Write, Edit, Publish. A big thank you to Denise Covey for starting this group and to those who act as hosts. Nila, Laura, Jemi, Renee and Olga. Applauding. 

To read what others have written go here.

 

Tagline: While mourning the loss of her beautiful neighborhood, Becca discovers something terrifying. 

                                                                    Mud Spiders        

Becca collected her gardening tools in the garage and opened the automatic door to the front of her home. She stopped in the driveway to gaze across the street. The beautiful neighborhood that she and Charlie had moved into five years ago was gone. They’d chosen this small development because each house was well cared for and had beautiful landscaping. Now, not a single neighbor’s house remained except a few several blocks away.

First came the fires a little over a year ago, replacing the scent of fragrant blooms with billowing hot smoke that threatened to suffocate her. Everyone had been evacuated, and the news played twenty-four hours in the shelter where they’d stayed so they could keep an eye on the fire.

Once the fire was out, they returned home. Every home in the neighborhood was spared, but the high California hills behind her neighbor’s houses were burned barren. Heartbroken, she’d reminisced about peering through her binoculars at the top of those lush hills and viewing all the wildlife, now gone.

Then, last spring, the rains came. A record downpour lasting several days and ended when a mudslide crashed down on those homes across the street from hers. All in the middle of the night. She and Charlie woke to sirens and hurried to their large double-pane front window. The mud had almost crossed the street to their own front lawn. Not one of her neighbors had survived. She’d helped the rescuers as much as possible, but they refused to let her dig in the mud, so she opted to feed them breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And like the shelter, she served donuts, but hers were homemade. She loved cooking, and her home carried the scent of her many creations. Charlie bought beer to go with the dinners at the end of the day. And by the time she’d done all those dishes and was relaxing with her feet up, that beer was a welcome thirst quencher.

Now, as she gazed across at the once beautiful homes and gardens of her neighbors, she saw only devastation. Mounds of mud had buried the homes. The rescuers had dug it out, leaving behind part of the house, sticking up in broken boards, plywood, shingles, and glass. The smell was of earth and a kind of mold, if you could believe it. Becca had never smelled anything like it before. Rancid and full of decay. Because of it, she didn’t open her windows, even when evening brought a cool breeze to cleanse the world of the summer heat.

She knelt, rolled up the pink sleeves of her blouse, and began to weed. There were always weeds. It was a constant struggle, but since she loved gardening, she didn’t mind. The bees were busy moving from her purple phlox to the daisies and coneflowers. Each flower reaching toward the sun, displaying a delicate dance when the breeze rustled their petals, releasing their scent and surrounding Becca with joy.

She struggled with the roots of a stubborn weed when she heard a strange kind of sucking noise followed by a swish plop. She sat back on her heels and stared at her reflection in the window. Suck, swish, plop again. The air brought the toxic muddy scent to her. Becca turned. Coming across the street toward her were creatures, unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Their arms and legs were double-jointed and pushed out like spiders. Their round heads wobbled back and forth, and their yellow eyes stared at her. Globs of mud dripped from their bodies resulting in the plopping noise when it hit the pavement.

She dropped the gardening tool and stood, turning to fully face them. One, two, three, she counted. Like giant spiders, they advanced. Their movements were slow. Four, five, six…eleven. She stopped counting and backed up toward the open garage door. All the while, she heard the swish and plop and then the sucking noise as they lifted their feet from the pavement. As she stared, one of them stood like a human, and its front legs became arms with long fingers and no hand. It dripped mud from its long digits. They all dripped mud leaving behind blotches of sludge where they’d been. The goo oozed with popping bubbles, and then she saw the patches of mud spread out to rise up as another monster.

Her heart made a staccato rhythm that hurt her chest. The air was filled with choking decay. Finally, she turned and fled to the garage door that led inside the house. A roar was added to the clamor of their movement, and she turned, pressing the garage door’s button to lower it. When she did, they were all stood, their mouths open to issue yet another howl.

Becca was a practical person. She’d never screamed in her life. But she screamed now as the mud spiders launched themselves and landed on her body. Her scream was hushed when one of them slid its head into her open mouth.

The End

 

Word count 840

Thanks for coming by. Let me know what you think.

N. R. Williams

Nancy

Please leave a comment and tell me what you think.

Now Available:

The Beginning of a Legend, A Chronicles of Gil-Lael Novella

E-book is FREE everywhere.

Amazon US Link: Here

The Treasures of Carmelidrium, Book 1 in The Chronicles of Gil-Lael 

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Coming in November 2021: The Emperor of the Moon and Stars, Book 3 in The Chronicles of Gil-Lael.

I'm having a little trouble getting links on my website but they will soon be available. Paper copies are available for The Treasures of Carmelidrium at $19.99 and will be available soon for my other books. 

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Happy Halloween 

Faerie Tales, WEP, Caged Bird

June introduces us to a new Write, Edit, Publish Challenge. I’d like to thank Denise Covey and her team of awesome writers, Laura, Nilanjana and Olga for their combined efforts in running this bloghop. Well done ladies.

The challenge this month is Caged Bird. Tell a story in 1,000 words or less. Post pictures or a poem. Good luck to everyone who is submitting their work. And for other writers reading, it’s not too late to participate.

For my story of Caged Bird, it continues the saga of Primrose. If you haven’t read about Primrose yet, you can read the two stories I’ve already posted below, Stealing Pearls followed by Primrose and Anvil. Or, you can click on Faerie Tales in the pages above and read all three in order. Her story will be completed next month, so be sure to come back.

Caged Bird

Primrose twirled, her faerie wings flapping hard. The ruby and emeralds embedded in her forehead and cheek caught the moonlight that reflected off the human lake. Her giggles floated above her like bubbles in multiple colors. She touched down, tipping her toes in the waters as she danced in the middle of the lake.

            She was safe, at night, in the massive forest. There were human cabins here and there, but none were close. She waited until the humans were all in bed and if anyone was camping, she flew to the opposite side of the lake.

            Her tight curls were in the shape and color of primroses. Her faerie dress tonight was midnight blue. She’d come here by accident the first time. When she flew from the faerie portal, she’d said “trees” and ended in the middle of this huge forest. The trees even dwarfed the humans. Curious, she came every day for two weeks until she found the lake, which she named, ‘Glorious Pond.’ In order to return to it from the portal the lake must have a name.

            Not that it was a pond. No, it was a lake that stretched for leagues.

            She swallowed a few giggles which made her giddy with happiness. Then she noticed movement by the shore. She stopped and hovered mid-air. Whatever it had been was gone. Probably a deer. She’d seen a herd of the beasts earlier and landed on the nose of one of them. It sneezed and she flew up, laughed and touched her wand to its forehead. The deer reared from the ground before crashing back down.

            There was only one drawback to the lake and forest. No one brought their precious items from home. She’d inspected all the cabins. No jewelry boxes, no bracelets, necklaces, earrings or anything else. One cabin had an impressive display of fishing lures, but they didn’t tempt her.

            Something shiny caught her eye in a tree close to the beach where she’d seen the deer. Curiosity floated up her faerie limbs until it reached her nose. She tweaked the tip of her nose and then flew across the waters to the shore.

            The shiny thing seemed to float just under a tree limb. Primrose looked this way and then that. No humans, no deer. A raccoon crept out on the other side of the shore. Somewhere, a terrible stench reached her. It must be a skunk.

            I’m safe. She flew toward the shiny object to discover a metal bird cage. The dome of the cage came down and was secured in a wooden base. Is it iron or copper?

Inside the cage was a bar held up with links to the top. Once, in her travels to this human world, she’d seen a bird cage and she knew that the creatures would perch on the bar. She tapped it to test that the metal wasn’t iron. All faeries hated iron.

The door to the cage lifted up to expose an opening. Primrose flew inside. She stood on the bar, then sat and began to swing. Her laughter pinged against the metal making music. Then a bang. She flew from the bar and turned. The door had slammed shut.

Fear sped along her nerves. She flew to the door and tapped it with her wand. A dull thud told her the horrible news. It was made of iron. She couldn’t get out.

A loud noise caused her to cringe and cover her ears. Voices. “Look.” “We got it.” Two children arrived. A boy and girl.

“Oh, see how pretty she is?” The girl said.

“I’ll feed it to my praying mantis.” The boy grinned.

“Better not.”

The boy took the cage down and handed it to the girl. “What will you tell mom?”

“I’ll hide her.”

“She’ll find it sooner or later, Gretta.”

Gretta slugged her brother in the arm which caused the cage to move with violent force and even turn over. Primrose was thrown around like a pile of seeds. When it was over, one of her wings was torn. The pain made her gasp.

“Be very quiet.” Gretta had her face close to the cage and peered in at her. “Oh, you’re hurt. How do I fix it?”

Primrose stepped as close to the cage bars as possible. “You can’t fix it. Let me go.”

Gretta’s face pinched with a frown and pressed lips and then changed to a grin. “You can talk. What are you?”

“I am faerie. If you don’t let me go, others will come and curse you.” She knew they wouldn’t curse the children or any human, but Primrose herself would be in big trouble.

“What’s a curse?”

“That’s when my kind changes you into a fish.”

The child opened a cabin door. It was dark inside. Her brother led her up the stairs. His flashlight illumined wooden walls, a deer head, a door and a bedroom. Gretta turned on the light as her brother left and shut the door. The bright glare of the overhead fixture blinded Primrose for a moment.

Gretta knelt, and shoved the cage under her bed. “You have to sleep now. Tomorrow we’ll play.”

A moment later, the light off, Primrose heard Gretta climb into bed, cover herself and whisper something against her pillow.

Primrose lay down on the wooden floor of the cage discouraged. Perhaps something would come to her in the morning and she’d free herself.

Word Count 909

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Nancy

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