Category: Le Shorts

Le Shorts, Poetry

Do You Dream?

FanTC

Dream of flying?
Of soaring over mountains,
Scaling scrapers,
Or sunrise misty fountains?

Dream of being?
Of living every day,
Being big,
Or just changing ways?

Dream of walking?
Of stepping over fallen stones,
Treading lightly
In castles where the wind moans?

Dream of seeing?
Of viewing rainbows never seen,
Watching faces,
Of people who’ve other places been?

Dream of dancing?
Of waltzing with the moon,
With the sun
In a never ending tune?

Do you dream?
Of brighter days to see,
And if you do,
Would you tell me?

FanTC
Copyright FanTCBooks

Books and Affiliated, Le Shorts, Writing Prompts

In the Beginning

FanTC

There was once a beautiful white snake and a great black snake in the caretaker’s garden. The black snake lay at the caretaker’s feet and enjoyed all the best he had to offer, as well as companionship and the pride of the caretaker. But for the black snake, it wasn’t enough, and he became bitter and greedy because there was one other in the garden who held the caretaker’s esteem.

Mankind.

So often, the caretaker spoke of Mankind and boasted of his achievements. It made the black snake resentful. He concocted a scheme to reduce Mankind and elevate himself once again, but something stood in his way. The black snake could go anywhere he desired as long as he did not enter the inner garden where Mankind rested. So he bequested the aid of the beautiful white snake. She guarded the coming and going of the garden and greeted the caretaker every day. One night, while he was away, she opened the gate for the black snake. He entered the inner garden and made his way to Mankind’s other half which lay sleeping beneath the trees. And so the black snake whispered in her ear to cause Mankind to fall.

#PatchworkDolls

~FanTC

Books and Affiliated, Le Shorts

Something to Share

FanTC

I’m going to share my fairy poetry with you.

They shared it with me, and I don’t feel it’s right to keep it to myself.

Who gave it to me, you ask.

The fairies, of course.

* * *

Deep in the hollow
Of an ancient wood
Mystical lanterns
At one time stood.
HOME

* * *

This road you’re on
Does it ever end?
These twists and turns
Each hidden bend
What made you walk
The path you took?
Was it fairy love
Or love forsook?
THE ROAD

* * *

The fairy glade is where you’re at
Where dreams are made in a great big vat,
And in this land you’ll never find
A grain of sand left out of time.
DARE TO DREAM

* * *

Don’t you wake by bird’s light song?
But all is dead in winter’s frost.
Can life begin at journeys end?
Or is snow the mark that all is lost?
WINTER

* * *

Hush of night
‘Neath a violet sky
Moonlit waves
Have sung goodbye.
FAREWELL TO THE SEA

* * *

On the isle of wonder
Where enchantment reigns
Where walls fall asunder
And set free their chains
Give worry to the sea
And stress to the winds
For on the isle on wonder
Your adventure begins.”
THE ISLE

* * *

The passage of time
A mysterious thing
When you hear the bells chime
Then you must leave the ring.
Be warned.

Le Shorts

The Squid from Quid

FanTC 
The Squid from Quid
A short story poem

Once upon a time
in the land of Quid,
there came a strange
and peculiar squid.

He had no ink
or cloud to spread.
Truth be told,
he'd rather be dead.

Because all his peers
they teased him bad.
He had no friends,
which made him sad.

And so one day
when he was down,
he explored on his own
and got out of town.

Deep in the ocean
away from his home,
he had time to think
and be on his own.

He saw all the coral
and moved through the weeds.
He saw all the many
variety of reeds.

It made him think
since no plant was the same,
that maybe his peers
were really quite lame.

To think that all squids -
the young and the old -
should all be the same,
not to shy, not to bold.

He thought he was broke
all his life he felt so.
But now he felt changed
and now he felt whole.

The next time squids laughed
or called him mean names,
he reminded himself
he was not to blame.

Each squid has a purpose
though some may not see it,
and maybe one day
he would grow up to be it.

The end
Le Shorts

Hair There Be Pirates

FanTC

A satirical short fiction based around the shenanigans of cosmetology school.

*****

Captain Jon Wickham paced the forward bow of his ship the Clipper Lady. He fumed, and every time he let out a breath, his curly mustache fluttered above his lips.

“Confound those bloody blighters. What be keepin’ them so long?”

He turned an eye to the watery horizon, silver glass all around them, gray skies above matching his own cloudy steel eyes. The sails snapped in the breeze, as if mimicking his frustration.

“Cap’n,” the first mate Ethram started, squinting against the growing light. “I don’t think she’s gonna show up.”

“She better!” the captain sputtered. “By Jove, she better, or I’ll have her sails fer my washrags.”

Up in the crow’s nest, high above the deck and beyond the canvas sails, Redhand Jess Snipps shielded her eyes from the glare of the ocean. The Jolly Roger flapped and snapped around her head. She frowned. Drawing out a spyglass and fitting it to her eye, she slowly swept the surrounding horizon.

“Nothin’ yet, Cap’n!” she shouted, battling the wind to make her voice heard below.

Wickham snatched the plumed hat off his head and tossed it to the deck. “Blistering barnacles! What be keepin’ her this long?”

“D’ya think she got boarded?” shipmate Angel questioned, her hand resting fidgety on her pistol butt.

The captain froze and turned a weather eye to the rough sea. It was picking up ferocity as the day dawned. The clouds darkened the sea and waves rocked the ship about.

“Aye,” he murmured. “I be thinkin’ that meself.”

“Ho, Cap’n!” Snipps suddenly cried. “Somethin’s appeared southeast in the distance.”

Captain Wickham scooped up his hat again and rushed towards the stern, climbing up the steps to the helm where quartermaster Lorn stood. He stepped aside quickly before the captain could elbow him out of the way. Wickham took up the wheel and shifted the ship’s direction with one quick spin. The entire vessel dipped on its port side. Salty water sprayed into the air, misting the sailors. Coils of rope slithered across the deck. Crewmen scrambled to scooped them up and secure them. In the far-off distance, a black speck bobbed lazily on the horizon line—the source of their excitement.

“Blimey,” Lorn muttered. “‘Bout time they showed their scurvy hides.”

Wickham’s expression remained severe, his thin lips pressed in a grim line. The wind thrust itself into their sails, speeding them towards their target. Despite the rapid pace, it wasn’t until midday before the blight became a recognizable figure.

“It’s her a’right,” Ethram said softly, coming to stand with his captain. “The Late Show. Who’s gettin’ the rift fo’ this ‘un?”

Lorn gave a queer smile and glanced upward. “Let’s give ‘er to Jess. She won’t keep us out till dark.”

“Aye, agreed,” Captain Wickham said. “We’ll come alongside ‘er by high noon. Ready the sweeps.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” the first mate said, nodding as he descended to the main deck.

Jess climbed out of her barrel and scurried down to the deck. The crew were already swarming the area, planks and grappling hooks in hand. Others were monkey-climbing the rigging and grabbing hold of loose, dangling ropes. They prepared to board the Late Show at any minute.

The pirate ship cut through the water, spilling waves on either side as it sped toward the smaller vessel. Crewmen from the other ship ran across the deck in a mad hurry—they knew what was coming. They could not outrun the faster ship, not with the wind working with the Lady, but they sure as Davy Jones tried.

The Clipper Lady cut in front of the Late Show, stealing the wind from her sails. The Lady slowed and both ships stopped dead in the water. A great cry rang out from the Lady‘s crew as they shot the grappling hooks to the other ship. Cannons boomed, tearing through the Late Show‘s wooden hull.

First mate Ethram donned a jaunty hat. He hefted a wicked looking sword with sharp ridges running down the blade. He gave a nod to Snipps, indicating his weapon. “Dis here’s a feather, sharp as a razor.” It glittered in a shaft of sunlight.

Getting ready to scamper across one of the rickety planks, Jess whipped out her own weapon, but something didn’t feel right. Looking down at the object in her hand, she found a pair of polished shears. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

What the Dickens?

“Take ‘er down, Snipps,” the captain ordered, pulling a blood-red hairdryer from his belt.

Something isn’t right, Jess thought again, and looked out towards the other ship.

Then Jess saw her—the captain of the Late Show. A fierce woman with the thickest mane of hair Jess had ever seen. The hair was curly and wild, blowing about on the wind as if it were alive and was ready to attack. Someone had done a hack-job on it before and tried to cut through the thickness, but that only made it grow. Besides all of this, however, was something far more terrifying to Redhand Jess . . .

. . . Dreadlocks.

The End