Surprise Call [FICTION]

“Hello, Galia. My name is Morgan Freeman. I know you never expected a call from me, as famous as I am, but I've been given your name as someone who can help me with a situation at my new house.” The familiar voice both rumbled and purred through the earpiece of her phone.

“I’d love to help, if I can, Mr. Freeman.” She squeaked deferentially. “Would you like to tell me about the situation?”

He laughed softly before continuing, “I don’t think even a spiritualist like yourself will believe it without seeing what is happening around here.”

“Then I guess I will need your address,” Galia replied and then held her breath.

Mr. Freeman laughed again and gave her his address along with special instructions for getting inside safely. Between the manifestation she would be assessing, his security, and his beehives, a little caution would be necessary.

~

She stood with arms outstretched as one guard patted her down and another ran a metal detector along every surface of her body. She resisted the urge to shake her head at this abundance of caution. Three screenings preceded this one. Finally, the two guards nodded agreement and allowed her to knock on the front door.

“Welcome to my home. Thank you for being so patient. My security team considers me a national treasure.” Morgan Freeman stepped forward to greet her by clasping one of hers I both of his which she found as warm and reassuring as his voice.

“I can tell.”

“Though I think Johnny is just interested in protecting my bees.”

The young man with golden curls poking out from under his cap tilted his head in tacit agreement as he patted her shoe one last time with the metal detector. “All clear, sir.” He nodded politely and then both guards stepped out of the room.

“Now let me try to explain my situation to you,” Mr. Freeman gestured for her to follow him into a long hallway, leading to a spiral staircase. “The problem seems to be in the attic.”

Galia nodded her head as she gently ran her fingers along a bundle of sage in her pocket. “Some sort of manifestation then?”

“You could say that, but it doesn’t seem to be disturbed by the humans in the household.”

“Oh?”

“Whatever it is has been trying to destroy my apiary.”

“Pardon me?”

“My bee yard. Something keeps raining down random debris on it at night. And I can’t have that. I love my bees. They do so much for the world.” His deep voice softened as his eyes grew moist.

“Then let me see what I can do, sir.”

He chuckled softly at her formal language and led her up the circular staircase. Then down another long hallway to a slightly wider than normal door. With the turn of an ornate metal key, the door swung outward revealing shallow stairs leading up into a shadowy space. As Galia began ascending the stairs, Mr. Freeman paused at the bottom of the stairs.

“Should I…?” He began, gesturing past her into the darkness.

“It might be best for me to make contact on my own,” Galia started up the stairs, pulling a pen light from her pocket and shining it on the stairs ahead of her.

She paused at the top of the stairs where peaked roofs ran off in every direction. “How big is this house?”

Her whisper stirred more than just the dust on the shelf beside her. Something rustled through the air—the sort of thing others wouldn’t notice while chills ran up her spine. She gently lowered herself to the floor, assuming a relaxed meditative pose as she closed her eyes and cleared her mind. After a few minutes absorbing the energy of the room, she slowly opened her eyes and softly addressed the room.

“Is someone here?”

A soft breeze blew across her face, returning the shivers to her spine.

“Is there something you need?”

More tingles.

“Does it involve the bees?”

Nothing.

She raised an eyebrow and spoke softer. “Was that just to get attention?”

Another soft breeze caressed both cheeks.

She closed her eyes again and opened herself to the entity in the room. Her breathing became shallow and then increased as images filled her mind. As the images faded, she stood slowly.

“Thank you for letting me help you,” she addressed the room softly as she pulled the sage and a lighter from her pocket.

As she slowly spread the fragrant smoke throughout the attic, she looked for the wooden box from her vision. She let the sage purify that section of the room for a little longer before carrying the box downstairs where her client patiently waited.

“Well, young lady?”

“If you let me take this box with me, your bees won’t be disturbed anymore.”

“What’s in it?”

“I don’t know and I wasn’t planning on opening it,” her eyes conveyed a deeper meaning.

“You’re the expert. Should I write the check now?”  

She smiled. “I trust you will write the check in a few weeks when you are reassured that the danger to your bees is gone.”

“Sounds fair. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Galia.”

She blushed.

He ignored her blush and began regaling her about his bees as he led her back to the front door, where Johnny and his fellow guard waited to walk her and the box back to her car.

~~~

Any resemblance to the home of the true Morgan Freeman is coincidental. While I love to tell a good story, I don’t need to be arrested for wanting to know too much about the iconic actor. I am sure he has enough adoring fans on both sides of the veil :) 

Six Months, One Bucket [FICTION]

Six months ago, Jane’s doctor delivered news no one wants to hear. Then he tried to soften the blow by taking her back to terribly unrealistic themes assigned by English teachers who want their students to practice and demonstrate their writing skills. 

“Jane, it is time to think about what you want from your last six months of life. Do you want quality or do you want to eke out a couple more days or weeks with rounds of chemo?”

She wished his words inspired thoughts of how she spent her summer vacation or what Santa should bring for Christmas. Instead, the doctor’s counsel sent her spiraling for a couple days. Then Jane decided that she would fill her last six months with as much wonder as possible.

Traveling and making time for friends filled most of her bucket list. Accomplishing goals she put off for far too long distracted her from the pain as her body slowly ate away at itself. But today marks six months, allegedly leaving her with very little time to finish everything she wants to accomplish before mortality slips away. As always, Jane doesn’t leave much to chance. She plans to cross off that one last item today. 

She looks up at the simple wooden building at the end of the street. Next to all the brick and mortar, it stands out. She knows she found the right the place even without the vivid green words “Solidly Planted” to provide reassurance. She takes a deep breath and steps out of her car.

By the time she reaches the tiny shop, her breath comes in deep heaves. “Come on, body, just a little longer.”

The young man behind the desk looks up as she enters. His dark eyes fill with sadness as he takes in her slow gait and pallid face. He quickly steps forward to offer her his arm. “Hello, Miss, welcome to Solidly Planted. Can I help you?”

She smiles up at him. “I hope so. I don’t have long to make my own decisions.”

He nods gravely. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shrugs. The pitying looks don’t even spark her self pity anymore. With acceptance comes the ability to take this final step.

“I’d like to become a mighty oak,” she declares as the young man guides her to a cushioned seat.

He smiles down at her, but his eyes take in her shabby coat and worn shoes. “That package costs $600 dollars.”

“I know.” She opens her purse and pulls out a slender envelope.

He takes it and quickly scans the six hundreds inside before lifting a clipboard from a nearby table. “We just need you to fill out some forms.”

“So my family knows my wishes. I know,” she nods her head and begins scribbling on the first page.

The young man stands nearby as she writes, looking ready to step in and help her finish if needed. To her own surprise, her energy doesn’t flag until after she writes the date on the last form. Her assistant scans the forms quickly before offering her another smile laced with pity.

“This all appears to be in order. I will get your packet together and bring it to you. Do you need anything? Water? A cookie?”

She follows his gaze to a counter stocked with snacks. “I’m good. Thank you.”

Of course, as soon as he returns to the main counter, she slowly rises to pick her own treat. By the time he returns, she has nibbled her way through a giant peanut butter cookie. 

The smile he offers now holds more humor, “Glad you found something you liked. You can take another for the road. I recommend the oatmeal chocolate chip.” Then he is all business as a he extends a thick green envelope toward her. “This envelope contains paperwork to give to your estate planner and this…” he extends a silver bracelet toward her, “…will let others know your wishes.”

“Like an emergency alert bracelet for death.” She laughs and grabs a couple cookies.

He doesn’t laugh at her attempt at levity. His lip curves into a bit of a smile as she tucks the cookies into her purse, but his face resumes a funereal aspect as he guides her to the door.

~~~

We are all looking to save the planet, but not all of us are committed until death. I know these options exist, but I haven’t looked into them—mainly since I know my family wouldn’t follow through. I base this on the looks they generally throw my way when I declare my desire to be buried in a flimsy pine box in the middle of the Hundred Acre Woods or whatever woods are nearby to avoid traumatizing Piglet, Pooh, and Eeyore. (Side note: autocorrect keeps trying to change his name to eyesore which is giving me so perspective into why that sweet little donkey was so glum all the time.)

PAD Part 1 [POETRY]

We have reached the halfway point of Poetry Month. I decided to take on the Writer’s Digest Poem A Day Challenge again. Of course, I finally got around to it when I was recovering from a 24 hour stomach bug yesterday, so these might not all be my best work, so read responsibly and forgivingly:

Day 1: Would Foolish Do?

Would you run through thorns in bare feet?

Would you let a grizzly share your seat ?

Would you ask your sofa to be your bride?

Would you expect a veil to be a place to hide? 

Would you seek wisdom in a book of jokes?

Would you hear riddles in bicycle spokes?

Would you ride a unicycle into the stars?

Would you seek Venusians on Mars?

Would you be so foolish and forget to laugh

When you realize your own gaff?

Day 2: Zombie Zen

Rotten flesh falling from barren bones

Only sounds are guttural moans

Though they lumber slow 

All who watch secretly know

The undead hoards will catch the hero

But how? For clues, we have zero

Will she falter? Will she fall?

Will he die to answer her call?

Will one find strength to say, “Brains?”

Will the end be what explains

How swift of foot falls to undead shuffle?

Lean back, watch, have another truffle

Day 3: Reconnecting

Three hundred miles are no disguise

For love still blooming in your eyes

Yet a distance of merely feet

Brings complacency and defeat

To love still smoldering in a weary heart

So what kindling can restart 

And bring connection once more to two

Who such strength of love once knew

Day 4: Dreams Versus Reality

In dreams, we fly on our own wings

But reality requires aid of metal things

In dreams, all hopes are realized

But reality causes them to be anesthetized 

In dreams, we see our deepest desires

That reality hides under other fires

In dreams, we admit to knowing

What we hide when the sun is glowing

In dreams, we see wishes we feel

May never be brought into the real

Day 5: Child in My Shoe

The child in my shoe

Never quite knew

The footsteps she chose

But followed her nose

And stepped inside

Hoping to hide

From what is to come

Though she loves some

Of what time brings

And so she sings

This child in my shoe

Who aspires to do

All she must, to be

The child who becomes me

Day 6: Earth

The earth rising up to meet your nose

As you dig the ground with your toes

Loosening the soil to plant anew

From bounty that last year grew

But this rich scent serves to remind

Of the growth and nutrients the seed shall find

As its roots seek deeper, leaves reach for sky

And spring earth cannot deny

That growth shall come, plants arise

Bringing beauty soon to our eyes

Day 7: Short Stuff

Tiny dreams of hobbit feet

Are often played on repeat

Day 8: Alike But Different

Bow to the archer’s bow

As striped bass leaves water 

To play bass in the show

And drawing close to the otter 

They bring the song to a close 

To take the lead in finding lead

And if they wound their nose

The wound clock brings them from bed

In time to see the last flying bat

Find home before Babe’s at bat

And then in seeking something novel

They find the plot for their novel

Day 9: Numbering Time

One is how most enter this life

Two is when man takes a wife

Three is a child to make family

Four is sometimes meant to be

Five brings thoughts of golden rings

Six is half a dozen things

Seven is accused of eating nine

Eight is a favorite of mine

Nine lives keep cats curious

Ten never makes anyone furious

Day 10: How to Lose A Light

Want darkness to reign

Want an infinite night of pain

Then snuff out the candle glowing bright

Turn off the switch to extinguish light

Take out the batteries and you will see

How to sink into darkness easily

But when light is needed anew

Who will light that lamp for you?

Day 11: Peace

People seek what they cannot find

Each time they seek someone’s mind

And cast aside what really matters

Craving that which flatters

Even when their desire is simply defined

Day 12: Make a Noise

Bing, bang, boom, drumbeats of doom

But if we quiet down the room

A soft tip or tap brings a softer feel

But what if we make a deal

With the soft strumming of strings

Or the peal of a bell that rings

Out to invite us to praise

Every sound has an emotion to raise

But the joy found in the right combination

Brings music to our celebration 

Day 13: Forgiveness

Forgive yourself for imperfection

Step away from past indiscretion

Hold your head high and become you

Better than that sinner you knew

Through faith and love make whole

One whose grace, sin once stole

Forgive another for harm once done

Their true judge, only one

And if they bring harm once more

Then perhaps close the door

But wish them well, pray for peace

And you too shall find forgiveness’s release

Day 14: Something Different

Though different, we can be one

We can agree on this but not that

We can be better by returning

To our youthful abilities 

When all we saw were friends to us

So put someone else first for a change

Make the world different, better indeed

Become the better you and bring a friend

Into a world made better than we found it

Day 15: Dark Follower

Chasing wherever I go

You stay close at my heels

Stretching as far as you can go

To touch church bell peals

Or squishing close to my feet

So I almost forget you are there 

But every day, we must repeat

This singular life we share 

More Poetry: April 14, 2023

Someone

Sweep those cares under the stairs

Sew more cushions for those chairs

Sweet words flow at all times

Soft golden voice like beautiful chimes

Sweetly greeted at every turn

Smoke avoids you as fires burn

Sought after by those near and far

So many always care how you are

Slowly dancing to everyone’s beat

Successfully avoiding the kitchen’s heat

Sultry dances bring you no shame

Subtly taking credit for another’s fame

Step to the side for another—never

Stake your claim, bold as ever

Send another to pay your penance 

Starlets never fulfill their sentence

Stop, world, to behold your queen 

She doesn’t know what pain can mean

So how does it feel to be you

Sweetly blessed in all you do

Nobody 

Nothing stops you from being the grunt

No one notices, no one will hunt

Naturally, you care more for others than you

Noteworthy accomplishment, no credit due

Name a place and leave yourself behind

Narwhals to love are easier to find

Nom de plum might just earn credit

Normally, you’re the first to edit

No sleep, no worries, no rest for mom

“No” from your mouth, like a bomb

Novice at so much, so much to do

Nine more heavy tasks if you have the flu

No more truth, they give you their lies

Naturally, they still fall into your eyes

Nasty reactions if you don’t feel well

No offer of help if you fell

No one quite grasps all that you do

No use listing it, they’ll claim it untrue

Namesake of none, servant to all

Nobody is the one who will answer the call

~~~

More proof that poetry is meant to confuse us, but I had a prompt for poetry and National Poetry Month required that I share my composition. I took it a step further and wrote two.