Magpie Tales 58

 Requital

She was torn.  She so loved the idea of being the pretty one, the damsel with the beautiful gown and the tall pointy hat, long and flowing fabric sprouting from the top.  At least, she loved the idea until she saw the other costumes.  The armour!  The swords, and the intricately embossed shields!  Damn those boys.  They had all the real fun.  What intrigued her most, she decided, was the pony-tail hanging off the center of that one shield.  She hoped it was real.  She hoped it was that mean girl’s.  If it was, then she really did not want to be the damsel, after all. Damsel, indeed. She wanted to be the one who owned that shield.

Check out all the fantastic writing on the Magpie Tales site.  Photo by Tess Kinkaid.

Magpie Tales 57

Violet

They sat at the end of the dining room table, right under the large window, in pots of subtle colors.  The blooms like frosting flowers on parade.  Exuberant.  And with little hidden gems under the leaves as an extra gift for taking the time to look.  She was the only one who could grow them like that.  It might have been the love she showed them. Certainly the light had something to do with it.  No, I think it was the love.


Check out all the fantastic writing on the Magpie Tales site.  Photo by Tess Kinkaid.

Magpie Tales

  Sweet Memory

Around and around and around.  She rode her bike/roller skates/horse/race car/ fast and hard.  The exhilaration of the win was sublime.  No matter that she was the only one in the race, or that the track was the suburban cement driveway in front of the cookie cutter 1950s California ranch-style home.  There were few distractions to mar her dedication save one:  that smell.  Nearing 5 o’clock, it was always the lure that would end the game.  Irresistible it was.  The clink of ice cubes in the cocktail shaker, the call to the family pet that it was dinner time, the escaping music notes from the hi-fi, and the incredible aroma of onions, peppers, and garlic sizzling in the pan in preparation for something

sumptuous to come.  It was of no importance what the actual dinner would be.  It was the smell that always drew her inside.  The smell and the promise of coziness and warmth and comfortable chatter.  The love and the place and the knowledge of home.

My very first Magpie Tales post (first time jitters!).  Check out all the fantastic writing on the Magpie Tales site.  Photo by Tess Kinkaid.