Jane or Janet

The following is a fictional story written for Write on Edge.  

Jane packs her bags and head for the beach.  Two glorious weeks...days spent lying in the sun and dancing the nights away.  You see, Jane is plain.  Jane works long hours as a waitress, saving for her annual trek to the sea.  

Here she becomes Janet.  Janet is cute, fun loving and carefree.  "It's amazing what adding a "t" to your name can do for your confidence" she said to herself.  Free from the waitress uniform, the pony tail and name tag..."Jane".

Janet settles into her lounge chair, with her music and and an ice cold Diet Coke in her hand.  "Life is good" she sighs.  As she slathers on suntan oil, from several chairs away she hears, "Can I help you with that?"

It's the blond, beach bum surfer dude she'd seen earlier.  "That would be great, thanks!  By the way, my name's Janet"  

Jane would never do that; Janet does.

They chat for a while and it turns out the surfer dude is actually a trust fund kid.  Richard G. Harding, III, but more commonly known here at the beach as Rick.  He, too, has a double identity.  He desperately wants to shed his rich kid persona while Janet is trying to escape her dull life as a waitress. Often times people want what someone else has - those with straight hair want curly, brunettes want to be blond, you know that whole "grass is greener" thing. 

"I know a great club where they have an awesome DJ and the best margaritas in town, if you're interested" Rick invited.

Again not something Jane does.  She gets off her shift at the diner, goes home and watches reruns until she falls asleep with her cat.  Dull!

Janet, however, responded with an enthusiastic "I'd love to!  I am staying at the Windsor, room 423."

Rick and Janet danced the night away on a sea of margaritas, and then talked until the wee hours exchanging phone numbers, email addresses and friending each other on Facebook.  

That night Janet found something that had been missing for a long time.  She found the real Jane.

After meeting Rick and rediscovering herself, she legally changed her name to Janet, since Janet helped her find herself.  They are now married and live at the beach.  Rick still surfs but Janet is no longer a waitress.  Both have found their greener grass.

Nursery Rhyme Redo: This Old Man

Image Source:  Imelda's Photostream

This old man, he played dumb

He played blackjack for my rum

So what the heck, stack the deck

And give the man a loan

This old man is in the zone

There are more verses with different variations.  The origin is uncertain, with the first recorded version in  Anne Gilchrist's Journal of the English Folk Dance and Song Society (1937).

Beyond The Night

Though the sky at night be red

Tell me of the day ahead

Speak to me at dawn's light

Of things beyond mortal sight

Walk with me upon the grass

Where others before have passed

What do they know that I know not

All the things that time forgot

Written for dVerse poetry.

The Golden Rule

The Lego store in the Mall of America

From the Golden Rule to the modern catch phrase "what goes around, comes around", the lesson is the same, and that was the lesson shared once between two kindergarteners.  Alex knew Bobby didn't have many toys, and offered to let him play with his new Lego set.  Both boys felt better about themselves after that.

Written for Friday Flash 55.

The Rose Garden: Allison

This is a continuation of the Rose Garden series. You can read parts one and two here: The Rose Garden and The Restoration.

One night as Gerald sat on the porch watching the sun set over the garden, he paused to take note of how well the yellow roses were doing.  He had taken quite well to the slower paced life here in Louisiana.  He'd gotten on with a design firm in New Orleans and worked most days from his virtual office.  On evenings like this he would sit and tell his mother all about his life and his latest project on the house.  Of course, had anyone seen and heard the conversation, they would say "poor Gerald, talking to himself again."  

But tonight was special, and even though Gerald wasn't so sure people were wrong, he still spoke.  "Mama, I've got great news.  I've met someone.  Her name is Allison.  She's the most wonderful girl...and Gerald continued on, his words tumbling one over the other in his excitement, nearly forgetting he was alone on the porch.  He concluded by saying "you will love her, I know you will!"

As he got up to go in for the night he said, I'll bring her around soon.  I can't wait for you to see her."  Indeed folks would think him a might touched in the head.  But they didn't know what he knew, what he thought he had seen and heard.

The house and gardens had been completed and restored to their former beauty.  All but the old brick walkway...Gerald remembered the words whispered on the wind.  He had also kept the renovations true to the era of the house.  Later that week he would plan a picnic dinner in the garden for Allison.  He felt sure his mother would be there.  She still loved her roses.
 
Gerald had decided that informal was the best thing for dinner in the garden, so he set the table with some attractive floral plates, tumblers filled with sweet iced tea, and of course, a fresh bouquet of roses.  The main course was a traditional Cajun jambalaya with homemade cornbread with creamy butter, and Beignets for dessert.

Soon Allison arrived in her white BMW convertible.  It was a beautiful day for a drive with the top down.  Her heels clicked as she walked along the brick walkway to the garden; her pale blue dress matched her blond hair and deep blue eyes and swayed gently as she approached.  Gerald watched, his eyes twinkling at the sight of her.

"Hi Gerry, I hope I'm not late."  Her soft Southern accent was music to his ears.

"Allison, you look lovely today, and of course you are right on time.  Please, come have a seat."

After enjoying the dinner and some quiet conversation, they strolled around the garden, and Gerald pointed out some of the different roses and where they came from.  The garden had always been his Mother's passion, so that is where he began the restoration.  They paused at the yellow rose bush, and he explained that his Father had given it to her the year before he died, and that it was her most prized bush.   A sad smile briefly touched her lips.  "Oh Gerry, that is so sweet.  They obviously adored one another."

As they returned to the table for dessert, there across Allison's plate was a single yellow rose.

What If?

The sun stopped shining?

It would get cold and dark, and we'd all die.

It never rained again and our water sources dried up?

We'd have no food or water, and we'd all die.

You won the lottery?

It wouldn't save you if there were no sun or water.  Be thankful for what you have.

Written for Friday Flash 55 and Magpie Tales.
For clarification,  I am not against the lottery, but know that money doesn't fix everything either.

Gray Days

Once upon a time in the land of trolls, unicorns were revered, and the brilliant blaze of the morning sky meant safe passage.  Gray days were to be feared for that is when the trolls came out of their hidden lairs beneath the bridges. Woe unto anyone who dared venture forth on a gray day.

Written for Friday Flash 55.

Nursery Rhyme Redo: Patty Cake Patty Cake

Image Source: FreeFoto.com

Patty cake, patty cake bakers man

Bake me a cake in a jelly roll pan

Patty cake, patty cake bakers wife

Lived in the bakery all her life

Patty cake, patty cake bakers girl

Toss the dough and give it a whirl

Patty cake, patty cake bakers son

Bakes up a real fine honey bun

Posted for dVerse Poetry.

Secrets

Image Source: Vegan Traveller

Through the door walked a big little boy wearing a ball cap, torn jeans and dirty tennis shoes.  The door keeps his secrets locked deep within where no one will know his shame or his sin.  His T-Shirt is smeared with his blood and his tears.  "Why did I have to send that stupid text?"




Written for Friday Flash 55.

Ravaged

This sofa once graced a happy home. A young couple sat here enjoying the fire, and contemplating all that life had to offer. Then came the war, and he was gone. Time passed slowly, the letters few and far between. Then, months later, he was returned, but he wasn’t really there. Life didn’t seem to have as much to offer now.

She couldn’t stay – she didn’t want to go. In the end, she took the things she cherished and returned home to be near her family. He sits in a dreary room, day in – day out, most of the time staring blankly into space. He knows she’s not coming back.

Now the sofa, donated and re-donated, sits by the road, soiled and broken. Its cushions long gone to some homeless man living in a cardboard village in a dank alley where the rats roam bravely through the darkened streets.

A fictional story written for Magpie Tales #93.

Post Turkey Day Blues

Mall of America

My paper is blank

And my brain's turned to mush

Is it the turkey I thank

Or the holiday rush

My thoughts they are fleeting

Like ships in the night

Nary a greeting

Nor squeal of delight

So it's off to the store

In search of great deals

Through every door

I burst with great zeal

Then I stop and I stare

In total dismay

At the items on shelves

In complete disarray

What are they thinking

I thought to myself

The lights are all blinking

But I don't see an elf

So homeward I head
With my parcels in tow
My feet are like lead
And I'm moving slow

I bid good night
To the holiday shoppers
Grabbing a bite
With the holiday swappers

Deep Thoughts

Happy, Sad

Puzzled, Mad

Bored out of your Gourd

Agitated, Frustrated

Revolving, Evolving

Filled with Joy

Filled with Pain

Preaching, Teaching

Forward Reaching

Magic, Tragic

Receiving, Achieving

Fantastic, Spastic

Hot, Cold

Timid, Bold

Fearful, Cheerful

Shrieking, Freaking

Calm before the Storm

How do you do
Not a Clue

What does this Friday say to You?

A Wacky 55 for the G-Man

Nursery Rhyme Redo: It's Raining, It's Pouring

It's raining, it's pouring

And the cat is snoring

Upon the pillow beside my head

And there he will be until morning

This seems quite appropriate considering the rainy day here.

Posted for dVerse poetry.

Write From The Heart

Photo courtesy of Magpie Tales

Janet threw down her pen in disgust. “Whatever made me think I could be a writer in the first place?” Her cat, curled up on the sofa, barely acknowledged her outburst.

“Just because I wrote a few short stories and dabbled a bit in poetry over the years, I suddenly thought I could write the next great novel?” Never mind that her friends had been reading her stories for years and encouraging her to write more and longer pieces. You’ve got the knack. You’ve got talent. You can do this!"

“Ha! What do they know? No, that’s not fair. They were probably just being nice, and who knows maybe they really enjoyed my scribblings but that doesn’t mean I’ve got any real talent."

While she was ranting to herself about her inability to put any coherent words down on paper, she glanced at a magazine lying on the table and saw a quote by someone whose name she didn’t recognize. It said “Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self” by Cyril Connolly.

That struck a chord with Janet. "Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. I have been so worked up about trying to find the right plot, and the right storyline. What do people want to read?"

"Yeah, that counts for something, but it’s not everything. For a story to be good, you need to put yourself into it."

Finally! She put her pen and paper aside, and turned to her keyboard and began to write. This time from the heart.

Written for Magpie Tales.

Faces of the Sea

Once upon a midnight blue

I sailed a sea of green

A more gorgeous sunrise

My eyes have never seen

Once upon a night so dark

The sea now ebony

And that perfect sunrise

Is just a memory

Written for dVerse poetry

Nursery Rhyme Redo: Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater

Image Source: Emma Paperclip

Peter Peter pumpkin eater

Had a wife who was a cheater

He caught her in a big fat lie

And baked her in a pumpkin pie

Posted for dVerse Poetry.

The Wedding Planner Blues

Image Source:  pinkangelbabe

First Chelsea changes her theme to chocolate – chocolate cake, chocolate martinis, and even coordinating dark and milk chocolate outfits. Then JoAnn moves her ceremony from inside to outside…in November. Now what was she thinking? Finally, Melanie’s maid of honor just broke up with the best man. I bet you can see where that is heading.

Written for Friday Flash 55.

Disclaimer:  I am not a wedding planner and this is totally fictional.

Mountain View

Afton Mountain Vineyards

Mountainous backdrop

Layered behind the vineyard

Like smokey shadows

Written for dVerse poetry.

Moving Day

Amber sat down hard upon the steps, still hot from the afternoon sun. She thrust her chin into her hand, trying hard not to cry. Callie was leaving tomorrow. It was totally unfair. Her lower lip trembled as the tears started to fall. At ten the whole world ends when your best friend moves away.

Written for Friday Flash 55.

Nursery Rhyme Redo: Jack and Jill

Image Source: Wikipedia

 

Jack and Jill took some pills
They got from their drug dealer
Jack fell down upon the ground
And Jill called an herbal healer

Posted for dverse poetry.