Lantern Jacks

Photo by Alexander Schimmeck on Unsplash

The eerie glow could be seen from the path, but none dared in the dark of night to investigate. The wood had long been said to hold terrifying secrets.

It was by the light of day that William and Connor decided to leave the trail to see what the source of the night before’s glow had been.

“It’s just pumpkins,” Connor said with a tone of disappointment.

“Well someone or something had to have brought them here,” William said giving the “something” a sinister tone. “We all know that nobody would dare come into these woods to light them even if they put them here in the daytime.”

Connor’s eyes showed he had been spooked. His older brother took delight in the success of his prank.


Bones of Contention

Do Not Share A Toy


My brother and I never saw eye to eye.  Whether it be religion, politics, or even sports teams we couldn’t agree.   Sometimes it seemed that if I said it’s night, he would say it was day.  These divisions continued well after childhood, and it led for us living on opposite coasts and following very different lifestyles.  Sometimes I miss him.  Not the arguments, and definitely not the occasional fisticuffs, but rather the sense of belonging to someone – being a brother.  After all we share the same blood and history.  But I know full well that we will never have a relationship even now that we are entering a latter years.  Those bones of contention are quite real to this day, and sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy.  I wish they would lighten, and that I could see my brother again.

(144 words)


dVerse – Prosery: ‘Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy.’ (Spring Azures from the book Wild Geese by Mary Oliver.

In Duress Agree

Fire, Pot, Historical, Reenactment, Cauldron, Flame


Like Nimrod before me – a hunter great

Unmatched by others in my skill

So why then my plate empty

Unable to score a kill?


Famished and dropping – I found my way home

My brother stewing lentils – was there

A bowl full from him  – I did command

He said only if my oath – I would swear


My birthright he demanded – there from me

In exchange for a mere pot of stew

His conditions – in the face of starvation – sure

I did in duress  – with him – agree




Genesis 25:29-34


August Bible Poem 3





Sid and Stanley stood in the entryway of what had been Aunt Agnes’ home.

“This place is disgusting,” Stanley said looking around at the tired paint and threadbare carpets.

“Hey, she spent the last four years of her life in Pleasant Acres.  No one bothered with keeping this place up.  But it’s ours now, so we should be thankful she thought of us in her will,” Sid retorted.

“Okay, fair point,” Stan said, still looking at the dingy surroundings.

They went into the lounge and as Sid examined some dusty heirlooms from the mantle piece, Stan ran a finger down a filthy window. “This is so gross,” he observed.  “You can hardly see out of these windows.”

“Yeah.  Dirty windows can be real panes,” his brother quipped.

“Ha ha,” Stanley mocked, “Joke away, but this place is going to cost a fortune to clean, much less renovate.”

“Not if we do it ourselves,” Sid replied.

“Talk about a pain!” Stan replied.

“It won’t be all that bad,” Sid said confidently,

“I wasn’t talking about the house,” Stan replied, presenting his brother a middle fingered salute.




Tale Weaver – #278 – Dirty Windows


House, Townhouse, Building, Neighborhood, Realtor


“Do you know where we are?” Gretchen asked as she glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Tallwood Street, I think,” her brother Dieter replied. “It shouldn’t be much farther until we get to Pine Way.”

“Mom said to go straight to the shop, and straight back, but you just had to go and try to find the skateboard park Erik told you about.”

“But I wanted to just try a couple of new tricks,” Dieter said.

“Yeah, well we never found it; and now we’re lost,” she said angrily, her eyes beginning to tear up.

“Look, there’s Heidi Becker, she will tell us where we are,” he said.

“Fine, I just want to get home.”




Weekend Writing Prompt #156 – Home in 114 words



Bow, Shooter, Arrow


The winter had been long and hard, and food supplies were dwindling.  Avorak had long been considered to be the clan’s greatest hunter, and it now fell upon him to feed his people.  This was a matter of pride for him, but now he felt as if he was failing them.

“Tell the people to meet me in the long hall,”  Avorak instructed his sickly little brother, Avin.

When all were gathered, the great hunter said, “I have called you all here to discuss our survival.  My father, Chief Avolar is ill.  I, therefore, will be in charge as we await his recovery.  Things are bleak.  The snows are heavy in the hills, that are our hunting grounds, and game is scarce.  Nevertheless, I will lead a hunting party into the hills, as we must have meat.  Till our return my mother, Ballora will mete out what remains of our food to each family.  Talver, Urick, Valinor, and Govina, you will join me.”

“Excuse me,” Avin interjected “I was thinking that I . . . .”

“There you go thinking again,” the great hunter interrupted, “No, Avin, you are not coming, and that’s final.  With that he grabbed his quiver and bow and departed.

A week later, a weary and empty-handed band of hunters returned to their settlement to the smell of rich meaty stew coming from the long hall.

“What has happened here?” Avorak questioned as he entered the hall.  “Have the gods intervened?”

“No, Avin has,” came a chorus of voices.

“But how? the mighty hunter asked in obvious confusion.

At that Avin approached a large wooden crate and pryed it open.  He lifted out a metallic cylinder and said, ” It’s called corned beef.  I went into Market-town and got some.”




Saturday Mix – Double Take: Our homophone sets this week are –

meat – animal flesh
meet – to connect
mete – a boundary (or to hand out)


pride – ego
pryed – opened

Winni’s Visit

Image result for messy teenage rooms


There was definitely an elephant in the room, and rather than risking Winni flying off the handle, as she so often did, it seemed sensible to give the matter of her now three month long “weekend” visit a wide berth.

When she first arrived at her sister’s door, a hastily gathered shopping bag of belongings at her feet, it was easy for Susan to bury the hatchet of their teenaged squabbles and to comfort her grieving sibling.   Susan had never thought much of Winni’s boyfriend Roger.  He was a waste of space:  he was a bit of a peacock – always strutting his stuff, and he was penny pinching as well.  Surely he was at fault.

But three months on, the curtain was being drawn open.  It was Winni that seemed to be perpetually going off half cocked.  And the lounge which she had transformed into her “bedroom” was a bomb site.

Susan thought about for a few moments and then decided that a few more days wouldn’t break the bank.  She shrugged and left the room.  After all why rock the boat?



Saturday Mix – Mad About Metaphor, 20 July 2019: Give a wide berth.

“So -Why?”


imageedit_4_3478106021 (1)




“So – Why should I help you? You got yourself in there,” his older sister responded.

“But, I thought there might be treasure or something,” he pleaded.

“Look Bryan, its a museum.  Don’t you think if there was any treasure down there that they would have gotten it out already?  Besides, the sign says, ‘Please do not climb on the exhibits’.”

“But I didn’t climb ‘on,’ I climbed down!” he observed in an attempt to justify himself.

“Whatever,” Margaret said dismissively, rolling her eyes.  “Why in the world would anyone want a twelve-year-old brother?” she thought to herself.

“Margaret! Are you still out there?” Bryan whimpered as he became concerned that she hadn’t spoken for a minute or two.

“What a chance,” she thought to herself with a smirk.  She then sat down just out of sight of the hole.  She then texted some of her friends about her “stupid little brother” and sent a photo of the hole.  Then satisfied that he had suffered “almost enough,” she stood up and reached in to help the teary-eyed boy out.


Haunted Wordsmith’s Story Starter: “Help!”