Trolls

Do you know where the trolls came from?

Most trolls are born in winter between December and March while the moon is smiling or sleeping.

You see, millions of years ago, before humans walked the Earth, the Northern Lights, named Aurora, danced each night. But the animals slept at night and did not get to see her beauty. This saddened her, and she became withered and grey.

But one night, the Moon smiled at her, and said to Aurora, "I am going to sleep tomorrow and you must keep the sky filled with light!"

"But for whom?" asked Aurora, "All the animals sleep and, if you sleep as well, no one will see my beauty!"

"Tut!" said the Moon, "All the more reason for you to shine even brighter!"

And so, that night, Aurora shown with all her might. She danced and flickered so much, that her sparks fell from the sky and landed on the Earth's rocks and stumps and grass and bushes... and the rocks and stumps and grass and bushes came to life.

They danced with Aurora and laughed and sang of her beauty and relished in her light. And when Aurora had finished her dance, the little lively trolls went to sleep, dreaming of the next night when they would awaken to dance and sing and make merry once again.

And that is where the trolls come from.

The Little Prince

I don't know what star you're on

But if you don't mind

I'd like to watch for you each and every night

Because I love you and I miss you

And I dream that I could kiss you

But for now I'll look look up to the sky

And fall in love with every twinkling light

Because I

Don't know your name

And you don't know my name

But I have seen you 

And I feel that you have seen me, too.

Mirror

You were a mirror
I loved what I saw
Your arms held a world
Where we could be more
You held out your life
And you wanted my touch
I give my heart too freely
I hope for too much
In an instant you recoil
You're ripped from my grasp
I'm left in the shatters
Of a broken looking glass
I am a mirror
I take what I can get
In an empty, ravished world
With nothing to reflect

Dead to me

I speak your name.  You lay still and rotten. The perfume of the flowers you hold have been forgotten. Your skin is discolored, though its softness lingers, I cannot stroke your hair lest it cling to my fingers. Your eyes are darkened and unsupported. Your hands are pruned.  Your face is contorted. I fail to recall your beauty, as hard as I try. I move to kiss you. your lips are dry.

I'm Running With The Wolves Tonight

Listen for me howling. 

Watch for my tracks in the snow... 

but do not follow.. 

oh no.. 

do not follow... 

For the moon looks down with delight 

at the poet who makes her so

And the stars are sleeping tonight 

behind the vale of her glow

But they can hear me howling 

with the wolves down below

And if you find my tracks in the snow.. 

do not follow.. 

oh no.. 

do not follow.

Thoughts

There is a monster that stretches and grows

During each moment that's spent alone

It's shadowy and can be quite difficult to see

And by the time it's noticed, it's too late to flee...

Hold your breath; Keep it in; Swallow your fear

Curl up tight; Hug your knees; The monster is near

Shut your eyes; Do not scream; Darkness so unkind

It's all just a dream; It's all in your mind...

Rhythmic footsteps fill the emptiness that's left

Where butterflies once fluttered inside of your chest

No hope remains for denial or sleep

Once the monster has awakened and stirs in the deep...

Creative Juices

The weather report didn't matter.  The temperature, humidity, and sunlight (or lack-there-of) was always the same in the Marans' basement.  The wood paneled walls were hidden in darkness except for the occasional splash of light from an unshaded lamp.  Even those bits were soiled with the stark shadows of whatever knick-knacks and half-filled soda bottles were strewn across the desks which lined much of the room.  

In a corner sat Brian, hunched over a drawing pad which lay flat on his desk.  The page before him was blank, but he stared at it, muttering to himself, reading under his breath.  In frustration, he threw down his pen and rubbed at his eyes as if he had been sitting in that uncomfortable, hot chair for hours.  Days, even.  In reality, he had only just sat down for a few minutes.

He turned sideways in his old chair, the wooden arm of it digging into his side.  His unkempt hair matched the shadows on the wall both in color and shape.  His glasses were equally dark and abnormal.  He stared through them across the large cave of a room to another desk.  Upon it sat several jars, bottles, beakers, and other clear containers.  Each was connected to the next with a straw or tube of some sort and liquid pooled in differing colors; blue, green, yellow, black, clear.  The liquids sat unmoving, unbubbling, unchanging.  

Brian pushed himself from his chair as if the effort itself drained him and he trudged across the room.  He slapped his hand on the desk and drug a lighter over the rough wood, only then curling his thumb to pick it up as it teetered on the edge.  In one quick movement, almost uncharacteristic of him, he snapped the cover off and flicked the lighter on.  The tiny flame danced from his fist and he reached out and held it under a mason jar of blue liquid.

Forever he stood there, the flame licking the glass, the shadows dancing on the wall, the light taunting his eyes, and the jar began to sweat but its contents had no reaction.  Brian lifted the lighter closer till the flame had no room to burn between its fuel and its foe, but still, nothing.  He stared into the flame until the spots overcame his sight and he could see it no more.  His eyes relaxed and snapped back, trying to focus on what had blinded him, but Brian didn't move.

Florescent light ruined the effect and a woman's voice came from far away.

"Brian?!  You better not be smoking down there!"

He answered her in his head, "I'm not, Mom!" but his lips didn't move and no sound came from him.

"Brian!"

Blinking, he threw down the lighter in anger.

"What?!  What Mom??"

By this time, she had come halfway down the stairs and was looking at him as if he had just pulled a gun on her.  

"What are you doing?"

Brian didn't turn from his desk.

"I'm writing!  Leave me alone!  Please!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry.  What do you want for lunch?"

"Nothing, Mom, I'm fine.  I'm not hungry.  Just.  Please, leave me alone for now."

"Well, let me know soon.  It'll take time to make it.  Don't wait till you're starving to come upstairs."

Her steps were soft and reverberating and the click the lightswitch made when she shut it off replayed in Brian's head over and over and over.  He felt as if he had been standing all day and decided to go sit back down in his chair.  Once there, he stared at the blank page of paper again.  Hours later, he let out a sigh.  

At some point, a plate had appeared on the desk next to him.  It had three halves of ham sandwiches on toast with a full slice of cheese on each.  He barely recalled eating it, but the roughness the toast left on the roof of his mouth and the crumbs on the plate gave away its history.  Brian turned to look at the liquid across the room.  Still as ever.

The light flicked back on again and the familiar footsteps came close.

"We're all ready to go.  Are you coming?"

Brian sighed again.  He lost count of the number of sighs which now hung in the still air around him, but he was certain it totaled more than the years that would last his life.  He pushed himself and his chair away from his desk with a harsh scrape against the concrete floor and stood.  Turning without looking at the juices, he climbed up the stair after his mother.

The light clicked off, but no one was there to hear its sound repeat over and over in their mind.  Heavy footsteps came from above as they walked and shuffled across the house.  Then a heavy door opened... and shut.  The slam of it made tiny ripples in the liquid.  A hundred circles grew within each other till they could grow no more, and then reversed and came back on each other.  Even after the vibration of the door had passed, the ripples kept on, growing bigger with each wave until the liquid began to bubble.  The bubbles grew larger, and more fierce until it pushed up into a straw and into the next soda bottle of green, turning it into a beautiful teal.  

The teal concoction began to bubble next.  It churned and danced and bounced and grew.  It grew so great that it flowed into the yellow liquid and the black.  They bubbled up and rose out of the jars and popped on the wall, leaving round ink stains which dripped and bled downwards leaving new symbols and signs and words and pictures.

The bubbles eventually filled the room in black and teal and purple and orange and every shade of blue and green until barely any liquid was left at all in the bottles and jars.  When Brian stepped down the color-wheel stairs what seemed like mere moments later, he scooped up his pen and drawing pad, sat cross-legged on the floor, and began to write.

The Apex

Epilogue

The trees were so tall and the snow fell so thickly, Jezzabel could not see their top branches.  Her muscles no longer ached, but the stiffness in her legs drained what little energy she had left.  She pulled her bearskin cloak tightly around her, crossing her thin arms across her ribs.  Her limbs felt oddly thick and she could not feel her joints when she dropped to her knees in a drift too heavy to climb. 

Upwards she peered again.  The cold breeze on her face seemed to go through her cheeks and behind her eyes.  She let out a quivering breath and would have cried had her tears not frozen to her eyelashes.  She had tried to climb alone, the results would have been better had she done it alone.  Now, though, the choice was only to accept assistance or die.

Death.  It was only a fortnight ago she had found herself so quick to consider it and she would have ended the world then and there but for a whisper in her head of another way.  No, she would climb and she would do so alone.  The tiniest glimmer of hope that the Apex could maybe give her what she sought kept her alive if only for a short while.  But, as she climbed, her hope grew stronger.  What began as a half starved hope of a determined girl became the determined hope of a girl half starved. 

A shadow approached from beyond the snow, its steps slow, rhythmic, and with purpose.  Jezzabel realized she was laying on her back.  She blinked up at the creature, her stiff eyelids failing to wet her frozen corneas.  Her lips twisted, though she wasn't sure if she was smiling at her fortune or grimacing at her defeat.  Meekly, she reached upwards and the head of the beast lowered down.  Her fingers curled around its antlers, hard, thin, velvety, and warm and was lifted into the air as if she weighed no more than a fallen leaf.  Grabbing hold of the thick blue-gray fur of the beast's shoulder with one hand, she was able to pull herself onto its back.  She let her cloak fall open and pressed her chest and cheek into its fur.  So warm, it was, that she felt the stiffness in her melt away and she suddenly felt foolish for accepting the beast's help.  Now, with just that moment of warmth, she felt she could complete her quest alone.  But it was too late, she had climbed onto the beast's back and would ride it for the remainder of her journey.

The gentle rocking of the beast's shoulders soon sent Jezzabel into a deep sleep.  She dreamed of a crow laughing as it flew about pecking at the head of an ogre as he clumsily swatted at it.  She was the crow and the ogre both.  When she awoke, she lifted herself up to peer between the beast's antlers  The snow had stopped, but the wind whipped the freshly fallen into a thick white mist about them.  There was a darkness a short distance ahead and it would seem they had come to a cave.  The beast took her into the darkness and, once past the snow which had blown inside the wide mouth, laid down. 

Jezzabel slid off the beast, pulling her cloak about her once more with one hand, still grasping its fur with the other, and looked into the darkness.  The beast shook its mighty head, which the girl took to mean she would have to let him go.  The moment she did, she felt the white coldness from behind rush back into her and she shivered, hurrying to tighten her cloak about her tiny body.  Disappointed and relieved, on the verge of tears, she sighed shakily and stepped forward into the dark warmth of the cave. 

The Apex was ahead of her.

Life of a Floridian

Episode 1

I went out to read in my hammock today 'cause it was 80 degrees... but it was too cold... so I came inside.

Episode 2

Driving up to the Walmart parking lot in Clermont to get a 360degree fireworks show for New Years Eve.

Episode 3

Went food shopping. Saw people in short shorts and winter coats. Thought nothing of it.

Episode 4

Saw a facebook status about someone up north eating White Castle. Wept softly.

Episode 5

Fuimos de compras. No se puede entender nada de nada a nadie más en la tienda estaba diciendo.

Episode 6

Going out for a walk in January.  Sun tan lotion, bug spray, and a coat.

Episode 7

It's snowing!!  Oh wait... that's pollen...

Episode 8

Sunny and beautiful out.  Dark and pouring rain.  Sunny and beautiful out.  15 minutes have passed.

Episode 9

Seasonal allergies 365 days a year.

Episode 10

Watch a man get into the passenger side of his car and look confounded at the empty space where the steering wheel should be. 

Episode 11

Want to own a home?  You'll either be paying into an HOA every month to cover the cost of a gate that doesn't work and for people to tell you what you can and cannot do with your property... or you're in the ghetto.  If you're not in the ghetto, you will be soon.

Episode 12

Raining in the backyard, sunny in the front.

Episode 13

Native Floridians - people born and raised here - are the minority.

Episode 14

Having The Walt Disney Co. on your resume is not all that impressive considering the majority of the people living here can say, "I used to work for Disney."

Episode 15

Want to make a left out of this parking lot?  NOPE!  Right turn only, U-turn 50 yards ahead.

Episode 16

Speed limit 50.  Traffic light every half mile.

Here follows the account of the Seven Sisters and the Forming of Temnoriven.

Temnoriven was born under the will of the Seven Sisters.  Each agreed upon ruling for an Era of the world during which they may form it to their liking.

First, the eldest sister, Lucinda, formed the world in fire and quakes.  It was hot, barren, and bright and grew in power for 2150 years.  At the end of her reign, Lucinda retreated from the world to watch it from afar as a yellow sun and continues to gift Temnoriven with daytime. 

Lucinda is often depicted as the largest sister, dressed in yellow or red, carries a shield, and has a sun behind her head.  She is worshiped today as the Deity of Leadership and Power.  Her symbol is the Sun and her direction is Northeast.

The Second Age of Temnoriven was ruled by Hyetal, who felt the power bestowed upon Temnoriven by her elder sister was too great and unpredictable.  Hyetal countered Lucinda's rule by covering half of the world with water.  This cooled and broke apart the hard surface Lucinda had created, which infuriated her.  She attempted to take Temnoriven back, but Hyetal's oceans still crept into the darkened land by way of rivers and streams.  The sisters had become such rivals, that Hyetal retreated from the world at the end of her reign to watch it from afar as the blue moon, and gifted Temnoriven a cool escape from the garish sun each night. 

Hyetal is often depicted similarly to Lucinda, but wears blue, carries a pitcher of water, and has a crescent moon behind her head.  She is worshiped today as the Deity of Balance and Creativity.  Her symbol is the Crescent Moon and her direction is Northwest

Saiga, the third eldest, did not like her sisters fighting over the world which was no longer theirs to rule.  For this reason, Saiga used the embers and water of her sisters to create life.  Her first creatures were replicas of her sisters, born of flame and water which she named Elemenkin.  Saiga then created plants and trees and spread them through both the land and the water.  Lastly, she made the insects and creatures to inhabit the land and rule it as their own.  At the end of her reign, Saiga gifted the flora and fauna the ability to procreate and evolve and retreated to become the stars. 

Saiga is depicted being the tallest sister, wearing green, holding a staff, and with a crown of leaves around her head.  She is worshiped today as the head Deity of Life and Health.  Her symbol is the Leaf and her direction is North.

The middle sister, Eru, reigned the next 2150 years.  At first, she was unsure what to do with the world her elder three sisters had given her.  Over time, she noticed that the creatures Saiga had created did not have direction or purpose.  To resolve this, Eru assisted the creatures and evolved them into intelligent beings which could reason and learn.  Under Eru's rule, the Forest Folk were born as elves, fairies, halflings, trolls, satyrs, and other Folk-Animal hybrids.  They created tools and language, learned to hunt and farm, and formed the Temnorivan Calendar which is still used today.  At the end of the Fourth Age, Eru gifted Temnoriven with a book containing all of the knowledge of her sisters so that it would not be forgotten and retreated into the now unknown.

Eru is depicted as one of the smallest sisters, although she is the fourth eldest, wearing silver and a small bronze crown and holding a golden book.  She is worshiped today as the Deity of Knowledge and Decisions.  Her symbol is the Circle and her direction is Southwest.

The Fifth Age was ruled by Whisk, whose mischievous and curious nature changed the future of Temnoriven forever.  Whisk created storms and winds which froze the sea and wreaked havoc on the land.  This forced many of the creatures and Forest Folk to travel from their homes as the great ice lakes spread over the land.  It is said that nearly half the inhabitants of Temnoriven lost their lives under Whisk and it was during this time that the Book of Eru was lost.  At the end of her reign, Whisk chose not to give a gift and her four elder sisters, furious with her irresponsibility, forced Whisk to carry the souls of the dead and watch over them for her eternity.  Whisk later discovered a way to combine the souls of the dead with her wind and storms to make her own Elemenkin.

Whisk is depicted as wearing white and carrying nothing.  She is worshiped today as the Deity of Chaos and Whimsy.  Her symbol is the Spiral and her direction is East.

Drega, the second youngest sister, began her reign by melting the Great Ice Lakes and forming the land as best she could.  Saiga granted her Elemenkin made from rock and mud to assist in reforming the land, but it was still not enough.  Drega decided to spark The Dwarven Wars of the north which waged for over 1000 years for control of the Forbidden Nothern Mountains and Chrysehills (kreece-illz) to the west which she was able to form using the energy from the dead's souls.  Furious and lost without the Book of Eru, some Forest Folk turned to conquest and war in hopes of retrieving the lost relic, allowing Drega to create the many lakes, rivers, grand waterfalls, forests and plains throughout Temnoriven as well as the islands to the southeast.  Some Forest Folk had even begun tapping into the powerful presence of Whisk and Drega and learned to use necromancy and other dark magics against their foes.  At the end of her reign, Drega gifted the beings of Temnoriven with the ever-changing land to rule over themselves, and retreated to the center of the world.

Drega is depicted wearing brown and carrying a bloodied weapon.  She is worshiped today as the Deity of War and Conquest.  Her symbol is the Triangle and her direction is West.

The youngest sister, Vamora was displeased with the fighting and destruction which her sisters had caused and began her reign by piercing the hearts of the world's leaders and bringing an end to the wars.  She granted the dead a means of fertilizing Drega's ground, so that they may also assist in rebuilding the forests and townships which had been cut down and destroyed in battle.  Temnoriven remained peaceful as the Forest Folk and other creatures repopulated the world for the remainder of Vamora's reign.  She loved Temnoriven so much that she decided to gift the beings their own free will and remained in Temnoriven as an unseen benevolent presence for her eternity.

Vamora is depicted wearing many colors and a small crown of flowers and carries a bow.  She is worshiped today as the Deity of Peace and Fertility.  Her symbol is the Heart and her direction is Southeast.

The Seven Sisters

Today I found a "religion" I had never heard of before. I like it.

Bokononism is the religion practiced by many of the characters in Kurt Vonnegut's novel Cat's Cradle.

It is based on the concept of foma, which are defined as harmless untruths. The primary tenet of Bokononism is to "Live by the foma that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy." Many of the sacred texts of Bokononism were written in the form of calypsos. The foundation of Bokononism is that all religion, including Bokononism and all its texts, is formed entirely of lies; however, one who believes and adheres to these lies will at least have peace of mind, and perhaps live a good life.

Here's the wiki:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bokononism

I think I may pick up this book.  It seems interesting enough.

The Street Musician

I won the Exceptional Writing Award for this poem


A writing exercise from http://picturespoetryprose.blogspot.com

Let this image inspire your creativity today.
Perhaps...
A poem about music. A story about why she is playing there. A rant about street muscians.




With no song to sing
nor prose to tell,
no poetry to utter
or cries to yell,
no words to describe her current state
of lingering in cracks between love and hate,
she goes on with life and a quiet sigh
and hopes to inspire the passersby...


Cynthia Smallwood
July 31, 2009

After the Funeral...

Johnny stepped from the tattoo shop and knew...

a writing exercise from http://picturespoetryprose.blogspot.com/





Johnny stepped from the tattoo shop
and knew what she would think.
The most important woman in his life
on his arm in permanent ink.

He sighed and sat on his bike,
the pain fresh in his mind.
The rose which he gave her that morning
now on his body to remind.

The night wind gently blew his hair
as he put his helmet on.
He'd have to ride towards a different life
but he'd never forget his MOM.


Cynthia Smallwood
April 11th, 2009

Fly Away

PublicFriendsOnly MeCustomClose FriendsClermont, Florida AreaSee all lists...FamilyFriendsFamilySidewalkPizza HutWalt Disney WorldGo Back

firefly
fly away
live a life that's free
twinkle by
'bye' I say
'until again we meet'




Cynthia Smallwood
February 27, 2009

Juniper Breeze

I won the Exceptional Writing award for this poem for January 18, 2009


J - Sunday's Alphabet Prompt
Give this kitty, whose name starts with a J, his own poem!
A writing exercise from http://picturespoetryprose.blogspot.com/




Juniper Breeze
Is naught but a sleaze
Though the name does not imply
A freeloader, a bum,
Not skinny, but plump
The epitome of nine lives.

At sunrise he bathes
On Gossamer Lane
For breakfast he's found at the Ford's
Next it's the Hudson's
For a nap in the sun
At least until he gets bored.

By lunch time he's perched
Between Oak Street and Birch
To stalk all the families there
There's the Smallwoods, the Jones,
The Lowrys and the Fatones
The Michaels, the Bards, and O'Hares.

After dinner he finds
A spot to unwind
Propped up on a tree or a fence
Then he'll sing through the night
A song of delight
Because tomorrow he'll do it again.

-Cynthia Smallwood
January 18th, 2009

The City and the Mountain

Who will survive... nature or man?
A writing exercise from http://picturespoetryprose.blogspot.com


(This is a real photo of Seattle, Washington in front of Mt. Rainier)


"Hello mountain!"
said the village below,
looking upon its mother.
The mountain replied
with a booming voice,
"Hello little brother!"

"If I am your brother,"
pondered the village aloud,
"then perhaps we are more even?"
"Not at all,"
the mountain retorted.
Said the village, "well, we will have to see, then."

The village grew
in time to a city
that reached, with its buildings, to the sky.
"What do you think now?"
it asked the mountain,
"I still love you," was the mountain's reply.

Soon more cities
had grown all around
and threatened each other with might.
The mountain watched sadly
as the city was attacked
and many of its people had died.

Smoldering and hurt,
the city sat and cried
and looked at the mountain above.
"You must be disappointed,"
the city sobbed softly.
Said the mountain, "For you, I feel only love."

Filled with vigor
and a new purpose on Earth
the city grew tall once again.
It never quite reached
the same height as the mountain
but it had kept its respect for it then.

Years had passed by.
The city and the mountain
remained friends as they both grew.
"I love you" said the mountain
each and every day.
Replied the city, "I love you too."

-Cynthia Smallwood
December 11, 2008

They Look Just Like Me

Something happened down the street,
down at the edge of town.
The people cried for the police;
they couldn't hold them down.
I'm looking out my bedroom window,
listening for a sound
of something moving in the low
light down upon the ground.

They're coming from behind the fence
and just around the trees.
My dad says shoot them in the head
but they look just like me.

They look just like me.

My breath is stuck inside my lung,
my stomach don't feel right.
I'm losing my grip on the gun,
my head is feeling light.
My mother takes me by the hand;
says, "It will be all right.
Just stay here with your sister and
keep safe and out of sight."

They're coming from behind the fence
and just around the trees.
Your dad says shoot them in the head
but hey look just like me.

They look just like me.

I can hear my father crying
over all the roar
of the bang of bullets flying
just outside my door.
I can feel my sister shudder,
sitting on the floor.
I see the shadow of my mother.
I can't take it any more.

But they're coming from behind the fence
and just around the trees.
My dad said shoot them in the head
but they look just like me.

They look just like me.

I take my sister's hand and bring
her into the dark hall.
My parents have gone missing
and there's blood on all the walls.
I try to find them in our home.
I raise my voice to call.
I hear the deep gurgling moan.
We turn and see them all.

They're coming from behind the fence
and just around the trees.
My dad said shoot them in the head
but they look just like me.

They look just like me.

They seem to sense us standing there.
My sister froze in place.
One lunged and reached and grabbed her hair.
I saw his scary face.
Then I spotted on the stairs
my dad's 9mm Glock.
I snatch it and point it towards the pair
but I get an awful shock.

My sister's eerily inert,
her head between her knees.
I promised her she won't get hurt
my heart just skipped a beat.
Now she's rising from the dead;
she's reaching out for me.
My dad said shoot them in the head
but she looks just like me

and she's reaching out for me.


by Cynthia Smallwood
September 18th, 2007