Once upon a time, in a land not quite far enough away....

A bunch of us from Prose decided to take a road trip, so we found the biggest Class A motor-home ever built, christened her the PRS (Prose Road Ship) Discordia, and all piled in.

@JeffStewart was elected driver. The @Prose mobile IS his after all, and his pups made perfect guard dogs… well, they would be if they weren’t so damned cute. @fudo was convinced he knew where we were going, so we let him be the navigator. His eyes looked a bit red to drive anyway…

@MeeJong found the mini-bar in the back, and once she was joined by @amandabjaworski they started singing “Suzie-Q” on an endless repeat loop…

@Uschibear challenged @Finder to a game of Scrabble, and between them, they have exhausted every 7-letter word in Webster’s dictionary…

@ChrisSadhill, @Mazzy, @putski, and @DianaHForst were playing UNO, but an argument broke out over which direction play should go after simultaneous reverse cards used, and they decided to try dominoes instead…

@MisterEnigma and @LilEnigma have been back in the bedroom since we left, and everyone else is either too embarrassed or just too indulgent to even knock on the frame next to the curtain…

@DaveK and @LillyZ climbed up into the space above the cab to “watch the road” together. We all have our doubts as to their true intentions…

@TheWolfeDen is busy searching every road sign we pass for pictures of avocados, and based on the knowing grins and furtive glances from @thePearl and @ledlevee, I’m pretty sure she is taping our conversations as well…

@Shells invited everyone to stop by her place for sweet tea, and @MadCow got excited, because the next great work of art involved both tea and seashells…

As for me? I’m staying close to the refrigerator, and keeping my eye on the honey jar.

I few days ago, I came Home. It was a Biblical affair, like some prodigal child returning from the edge of existence and mirrors and dreams...smoke and ashes kinda things.

For a very long time @Prose had been this distant part of me. Like a tiny little card cataloged moment from some distant world. It seems like an entirely different me, reading old writes and rehashing old flames and old trauma...

But...I can't help but smile through the shame of how much I bared my soul to @Prose back then. Y'all were safe! Y'all saved my life and I didn't quite realize that until now.

Thank you @Prose for hunting me down and bringing me home.

Eyes of emerald green, glistening.

Like two vast rolling fields, easy getting lost in.

Miles & Miles of mystery & depth

Those eyes hide hurt, darkness & memories.

Two vast rolling fields, she uses as a cemetery.

Piles of her pain, waiting in their graves.

Burying her emotions behind eyes of emerald green.

sometimes when the vines grow down my arm,

past the thin skin of my elbows (translucent enough to see the veins)

and down to touch the knuckles on my fingers,

i let them wrap around my pulse points

and close my eyes and wait for them to pierce my skin, drain me.

these vines are inky black and made of reflections,

blinking and mutating blue gradients of light and dark intertwined,

and i think some days they want to bleed me dry,

and i think i'm too tired to think about anything else.

and the vines around my head cover my eyes so i don't

have to think about all the regrets (regrets) and desperate

pleas for undoing redoing undone things and everything that

i can't bear to put into any kind of meaningful thoughts

and every so often i wake up to see nothing but darkness,

the contorting blue light black light blinding vines against

the precious eyelids that can prove to be too heavy to open some days.

but there's someone else's fingertips touching mine, i can feel it,

and i don't think i'm alone at all, and the vines aren't too tight,

in fact they're hugging me comfortingly but they're winding and

binding and ever so dangerous.

sometimes they grow all the way down to my fingertips, and wait

for me to brush them away, and i've let them get out of control

when i reach for your hand, but there's something about

the sunset in your eyes that reminds me that these vines are

temporary and i'm slowly unweaving myself until i can

remember how to breath again.

Every footstep was followed by a nerve wracking CRUNCH, as they walked through the forest disturbing the blanket of leaves that covered the ground. The afternoon was colder than usual for it being late February. A steady chill in the air pierced their skin like a warning to turn around.

Hansel slowed down, “Nobody goin’ to hurt you, if I’m around! If anyone tries huntin’ us out here, my Pa will banish all, up to Gallow Hills”, he said.

Greta snubbed her nose at him, shaking her head. Hansel was an adventurous boy, no stranger to a whoopin’ from his Pa. Although Greta was more cautious, she allowed him to talk her into a lot. That’s exactly what she loved to hate about him, often worried that his lack of fear may be the death of him one day. Seldomly, he listened to the rules that were put in place.

As Hansel and Greta continued their journey into the forest in search of skull rock, the bare trees swayed back and forth in the wind, eerily seeming nervous. The tale of skull rock intrigued Hansel, but Greta was spooked because of it. Skull rock is the meeting grounds for the evil witches that hid in the forests. According to the Puritans, the witches perform their rituals to cast spells on the Plymouth Colony, at Skull rock. It was told to generations, as a warning to stay vigilant.

Greta stomped her foot on the forest bed, “Hansel I need not go forward! My Pa bid us any Puritans found at Skull rock will be witchin’ prey! Look what happened to Mrs. Grace Noble-Adams… both her boys perished in 1651! It were witches that casted spells upon Abram and Able! We need not seek the witches meeting spot!”

Hansel grabbed Greta’s hand, “We walk amongst witches posing to be us, living as a neighbor, the witches in these woods, different they are not,” he reassured her.

They continued on their journey, Greta shaking in her boots. Hansel lead the way and before they knew it, they arrived at skull rock.

Hansel quickly ran over and climbed to the top, “I bestow Skull rock! It’s just as the tale bid us, Greta”, he yelled down.

She looked into the bleak winter sky, noticing it to be hard and gray like the layers of rock that Hansel climbed. She examined the indents that would appear to be the eyes and nose, wondering if it were ever a man turned into rock for disobeying the witches rule. All of a sudden Greta jumped back, gasping! That’s when she noticed Hansel, from her peripheral vision, he quickly landed on a lower level of the rock, holding his hand out. Hesitating for a moment, she reached out as he hoisted her onto the rock. Steading her feet to climb behind Hansel, Greta got a chill that went right to the bone.

Finally at the top of the rock, she said, “The air feels thick like the butter, Mama churns before dinner.”

“I cannot disagree it…”, Hansel was interrupted by the screech of a crow, feathers black as ink.

Greta froze, “Mama bid us the scream of the crow is the warnin’ that danger is a comin’, Hansel.”

In one swipe, he grabbed her hand pulling her down the rock, swift like the wind pulled the leaves off the trees. With every foot that hit the ground, they were startled by every snap they heard, trampling over small branches tucked in, under the leaves. Greta seen the crow coming from the left, gliding through the air, before it landed in front of them. Instantly they noticed, what seemed to a necklace or collar of some sorts around its little neck, hanging above its chest area. Hansel embraced Greta, while the crow cocked its head to the right in observation.

Hansel pulled Greta closer, “when I take my hand from your back, run and get my Pa, RUN… I will run at the crow and distract it. I say I be damned of bein’ witchin’ prey”, he whispered.

Before she knew it, his hand was away from her back and she was running as fast as she could. All of a sudden she heard leaves rustling behind here. She was plagued with terror, not wanting to look back to see what it was. She heard Hansel yelling her name “GRETA! WAIT…No witchin‘ happened! I’ll be fooled it were just a crow. A lousy old crow! I bid to you that nothin’ was goin’ to happen”, Hansel boasted, while kicking piles of leaves into the air.

“On the contrary Hansel, not am I happy even the littlest. Our Mamas and Pas bid us to not put foot into the forest. I am not listenin’ no more to you, Hansel!”, Greta scolded him!

A sense of calm fell over them with the edge of the forest in sight. The crow perched on a branch just before the boundary of Puritan territory.

”Oh Greta and Hansel. Are those the names of the children I see”?, they heard the faint whisper in the wind.

A woman appeared behind them, she was beautiful. Her eyes as green as the ripest apple, ever seen.

Hansel pushed Greta, signaling to follow directions from earlier. She ran out of the forest to get his Pa.

The woman pointed at Hansel with her pointy nails, “Boy why are you here?! Puritans are forbidden from the forest”, she said.

”I can do whatever hell I want Ma’am. No witch scares me. I won’t be witchin’ prey”, Hansel yelled.

The woman’s blonde hair glimmered under the dull sky. It looked as if Rumplestiltskin weaved her hair into gold. Hansel watched her every move, as she walked towards him. She flicked her wrist and the crow black as ink, landed on Hansel’s head.

“Little boy, I have eyes everywhere in my forest. Your kind banished me to this forest when I was your age. My mother was hung at the gallows upon sunrise. Your kind cared not of the children seekin’ refuge in these woods”, she glided her nail his chin.

What the woman and Hansel didn’t know, his Pa and the rest of the men were setting up to catch this woman.

Hansel partly hypnotized, spoke slowly, “Witch you will walk this forest no more! I’ll be bettin’ my life to truth.”

”Hansel you look so much like your Pa with those dark eyes and dark hair. I’ve been watching you for years. Henry should have warned you not to come ’round here. Far ahead, he never thought… much like you. ‘Member watchin’ the hay cart burn brightly or your Mama cry ’cause your brother of 2 weeks did not proceed in this life. oh! I ’member. Finally the boy I get to meet. A Daughter with no mother isn’t a bad as a father no son”, she smiled.

Before the crow could alert them of danger, they heard the sound of a smoothbore musket, soon after a wailing woman fell to the ground. Hansel quickly fell out of his trance, for a second he heard unknown voices yelling his name and the cry of that beautiful woman, following the cries of the frantic crow.

”Hansel my boy! Get away from that monster, born from a witch

herself”, Hansel’s father warned!

Three men followed from behind, while two men came from the left.

The men grabbed the woman violently! At that moment the crow screamed as it tried pecking them in the face. The men flailed their arms around to free themselves from loosing an eye or two.

As Greta’s dad hoisted his musket into the air, he aimed at the crow. the woman cried out, “Sage, Go! Fly away my beauty…find the others and take them to safety.”

The musket let out a roar and the shot just missed the crow.

Screeching, the crow flew around in circles before disappearing. Where it went, nobody knew. They heard the cries of the crow in the sky, as the men drug the woman with gold hair to Gallow Hills.

Greta ran over to Hansel with sad eyes. She embraced him, pleading, “I thought you were witchin‘ prey. Runnin’ I got my Pa, quickest I did not know how fast we could save you.”

”Greta, she knew my Pa! She knew of the hay cart burnin’, Mama’s baby that passed. I never got her name, but I fear for this family… dead or alive, she will live on. That crow has a name.”

In the distance they heard the woman, “Henry I have eyes all over. Perished or not, I will live on. Prudence will allow no mercy for your boy, his boy”.

The cries faded. Hansel and Greta trailed to the very edge of the forest. As they stepped foot out, Greta continued to cry. Hansel heard the faint snap of a branch, slowly turning his head, he saw the crow. What he saw next, he couldn’t explain. The crow landed on a tree branch. Instantly fog appeared, turning into a girl, maybe a few years younger than he. He froze. She had those apple green eyes, but hair the color of the red maple leaves that lined the forest in Autumn. His eyes locked on the necklace that hung on the crow, now draped around this young girls neck. At that moment he knew that the woman was a mother. Witches are real. His stomach turned as quick as he turned his body, dragging Greta out to Puritan territory.

_______Ten years later______

Seasons changed, family perished or moved on as they created families. Babies were born, two beautiful babies were Hansel and Greta’s. In 1680 Hansel Thomas Adams III arrived into this world. Gretel Mary Adams followed in 1681. Known as Irish twins, they both grew into children, encapsulating the best parts of their parents.

Frequently haunting Hansel, he never told a soul what he seen that day, ten years ago. He often wondered and worried if she would seek revenge on his family. He thought about moving when Greta conceived his first child, but inheriting his Pa’s popular haying business, kept him here. That witch with hair of gold, always came to mind when he seen the bundles of hay. Hansel couldn’t stand the hay bails, so he allowed his brother to oversee that job. So Hansel became a wood-cutter and merged the businesses, as one.

Prudence plagued his mind, it’s like her soul placed itself to live on within Hansel’s head, after she perished when hung! He and Greta never spoke of that woman who proclaimed herself as Prudence. Although they always warned Hansel and Gretel of the danger lurking in the forest.

Little did they know Hansel and Gretel snuck to the forest, always pushing themselves to go a little further. Hansel and Greta we’re diligent when it came to keeping eyes on their children, but it‘s impossible to have eyes on them all hours. Adventurous Hansel knew what to say to his cautious sister.

It was thought to be one of the safest times in Salem, 1694. The Puritans hunted and killed all of the witches within the forest and living as their neighbors in the community, so they thought. Never realizing there were hidden homes as the far forest edge, under cliffs that were unreachable to the hunters.

However, Hansel lead Gretel to them, seeking adventure and fun, “Gretel, vacant this little home of white birch, stand hidden on the cliff side. You will be lovin’ what I found. Safe, it is… I entered, searchin’ with Pa’s musket, days ago”, Hansel proclaimed as he helped his sister down the ledge.

Gretel installed with fear trusted her brother even though he was irrational at times.

”Hansel, what if you forget how to lead home”? Gretel questioned.

”I won’t. I left marked rocks on the way. The forest bed is cleared of leaves for Autumn isn’t here yet”, he responded.

Gretel’s eyes lite up, arriving to this cute little home. It reminded her of a doll house that the little girls with wealth, had. She and Hansel ran inside to find a home furnished and clean.

Opening a cabinet, Hansel said, “Look! Sticks of cinnamon, vanilla and molasses and honey jars, Gretel”!

Gretel noticed in the window, a crow with feathers black as ink, perched on the window sill. The curious bird observing, as Hansel walked over to Gretel, handing her a cinnamon stick and jar or honey. He found breads and spices, too.

“This honey is the sweetest I ever tried. Mama always bid us to eat the molasses covered bread, ever so slowly. Takin’ the taste in, ’member Gret”?

Gretel didn’t answer him. Instead, she said, “Hansel look at this peculiar crow... it has a necklace on its neck.

”I’ll be damned... It does“, Hansel replied, astonished.

Gretel turned her head slightly, reaching out for a stick of vanilla to spread on a piece of bread that Hansel was handing her. It was a second, passed and the bird was gone when she looked back at the window. Within a moment they heard the clank of what sounded like metal latching from the outside.

Hansel ran to the door and it was locked. As he reached every window in panic, nothing budged.

Pure terror washed over their faces, tears filled Gretel’s eyes like they were now two blue buckets, overflowing. Hansel grabbed his sister and pulled her into his chest. She felt his heart pounding, as hard as Pa’s saw hitting the logs.

A fog engulfed them. There stood a beautiful woman with hair the color of red Autumn leaves and eyes like two green emeralds.

”Hello sweet children! My you are lookin’ so much of Hansel and Greta. I’ve been waitin’ for you to stumble upon my home... take a seat, you will be here awhile long. I do believe I have much owin’ to my Mama. A Daughter without no Mama isnt nearly as bad as a Pa without no son or a Mama without no daughter. Gone is the best of their worlds”, Sage said.

Sage flicked her wrist and the sun wasn't shining in the windows anymore, they were covered instantly. She smiled at the children as they were pleading for their lives. She pranced towards them, another quick flick and Hansel and Gretel were silenced as they fell to the floor.

”Oh sweet children, know not what I plan to do, so sleep tight until revenge is hung over the heads of your Pa and Ma”, she whispered to the sleeping children as she guided their sleeping bodies through the air, lowering them on the bed.

She looked to the little cabin roof with her arms opened wide, “Mama I will get you back. Just rest now awhile to long in Hansel’s head. Oh sweet revenge, I’ll trade a soul for a soul, so you are back within this realm of land.”

-Author Amanda Burke Jaworski

So you're not supposed to judge a book by it's cover right? And you're not supposed to judge someone on how they look right? Once this illegally blindness started I didn't do that. I started judging people on how they smell. Because if you didn't care enough to brush your OWN teeth, then I was scared to have you working with me, because there's no telling of what you're capable of..

What to name him? They had puzzled over this for such a long time. With their love for Sir Isaac Newton they knew exactly what they would call him.

They fawned over their young boy~ providing him with everything that his little heart desired. At first he had cried to have his own space to conduct and work on different school projects. His parents were quite amused by this & had high hopes for their junior Einstein.

But they should have really paid much more attention to what their jnr. Einstein was up to!

For his first project- he had hidden behind one of the garbage bins of The Sampson’s place. Their daughter, Susie, had spotted the young Einstein collecting bits & pieces of something laying by the front porch of her home. She screamed upon coming face-to-face with the on-going work conducted by the junior scientist. In his hand he held a small hammer that he had grabbed from his Dad’s toolbox. Susie sobbed after seeing the remains of her precious cat, Ginger, left near the front doorstep like a present for a pack of vultures in the Serengeti to enjoy.

Susie’s parents had complained to the boy’s parents…what kind of young man were they raising who had the audacity to come and easily mangle their sweet little Susie’s cat? After that incident, Susie’s parents told her to get ready to move to another location. They were afraid of living right next door to the little monster.

After that the next incident was unfortunately much worse than the first. One of the neighbors watched the kid playing with a box of matches in another neighbors backyard. He struck the match, and tossed it over a pack of other matches. When the boxes lit up into a hungry flame that raged like a roaring lion, the shed in that section of the backyard ended up catching on fire, & that chemical reaction set up another reaction of the sheriff kind. The neighbor who had seen the whole thing happen had called the police. They reprimanded the kid & advised him not to cause any more mayhem.

As the young boy grew older, he kept getting into lots of greater trouble: from ripping one of the kids in his class’s clothes with a pocketknife; to stealing money from the local barber’s cash register; punching his Sunday school instructor after he had heard something they said about the way his parents needed to discipline him more; selling dangerous concoctions & mixes he had created in his parents basement.

One day his parents decided it was time he went to a special place to get some time to meet with a specialist. He was picked up at his place by a group of heavily built men who reminded him of The Undertaker. They had barged into his room and placed him in the back of a silver van. His mother wiped the tears from her eyes and waved goodbye, but his father shook his head for a short while before looking away. Then he pulled his wife back into their home when she stood in the driveway for what felt like ages.

He was taken to a facility that was interested in exploring how far his mind, and energy could be worked up, or at least until he was beat. They placed a chip in the back of his neck. This way they could keep track of his exact location wherever, or whenever he was in time.

A few of the folks who recently joined the team were playing around one of the machines in the facility. They placed the new guy into it, & clicked some buttons. The machine whirled…

In a flash of a blinding white light, the newly added facility member vanished. The two guys rose from their seats in the frontside of the machine. They faced each other & said at the same time, “Crikey!”

Meanwhile, the new facility member had closed his eyes the moment the blinding light had appeared. When he opened them much later, his eyes landed on a street light in a place that was unfamiliar to him.

A voice called from the shadows. This startled him. He calmed down seeing that it was only a young woman.

She approached him with a warm smile. His hands slightly brushed the sides of hers. She then swung something toward him, but as quick as lightning he managed to block whatever it was. He felt the flow of liquid drip by his wrist.

He had never seen his own blood before. This made his heart skip, not from fear, but now his mind switched from being in a peculiar town, to one where he was ready to see what this oddity had for him to explore. With his other free hand he swiped the sharp tool from the young woman’s hand.

She yelped and gulped. Her eyes shook in fear. Here she had thought she could have taken this frail looking form down, alas, she’d been quite mistaken! Sir Isaac Newton’s laws of motion were not working in her favor…not tonight.

He swung the tool with great force across her throat. Blood splattered from her (carotid) artery right across her attacker’s face. He let go of her form, letting it drop onto the ground.

The sound of a whistle made him take off into the night. A policeman who had been on night watch duty thought he had heard a scream. The london fog at such a late hour, past midnight, was thicker than the sludge of stone soup his Great Aunt’s on his usually quiet (except for this time) shift.

The newspapers the next morning were already selling the news like a nice, hot cuppa to the folks in the city:

THE DAILY BREW

August 8th, 1888

LADY OF THE NIGHT FOUND MURDERED BY LOCAL POLICEMAN

Brave policeman finds body of a lady of the night. The woman’s body was found on the ground. Local detectives are still puzzled with the case and going to investigate further this gruesome kill. The killer is still at large. The woman killed was identified as: Ms. Martha Tabram. Her killer’s whereabouts, or name are unknown. But some folks who say they might have heard a scream coming from the victim’s direction informed the police the killer ripped some organs from the victim’s body. It is the most gruesome murder so far in this part of the little town of London. Others interviewed about the murder have began calling the killer— “Jack…”

#NEWTONIAN. (C)

28th October, 2022.

#HappyHalloween.

sparks blazing in her

eyes,

she watched him from

across the fire

sitting silently on her

small log,

bracing herself

shivering a little

“You see,” he said, “this fire

gives off more sparks

than flames.”

She nodded

And he went on, “It's because

it uses souls as

fuel. I'm burning

things that once used

to be part of people,

things imbued with

their

essence.

A favorite scarf gifted by

a loved one

before departing,

a wife's beloved ring,

a child's doll

that resembles their mother,

a purse that

is seen as magical by a rich

merchant who

thinks she got rich

by holding money in it,

an army general's lucky

loincloth.

These objects have in them

parts of the

souls of people who used to

own them.

Other thieves think they're stealing

things of value, but

they don't know what

true value means.

Me, I'm no ordinary thief, as

you can tell.”

She nodded

and a long silence

stretched between them, only

the crackle of the flames

and the sizzling of the sparks,

and a very distant

wolf's howl

made the air vibrate

Then he told her,

“A great storm is coming.”

Concerned, she looked around

into the night

sky and then back

at the fire and the man

across from it. But she said

nothing.

“Let's go,” he said. “Inside my

cabin. We'll be safe there.”

Now she spoke. “No. I can't.”

“You can't?”

“I'm sorry. Cabin is too... narrow.

I'm afraid.”

“I have a cat's hind leg

preserved in salt

there. Wouldn't you want to kiss

and suck at the pillowy

paw? To trace its

claws across your tongue

and lips?

It feels great. Comforting.”

She shook her

head. “I can't. Can't go

into...”

“Into narrow spaces,” he finished

for her. “They terrify you.

You've always been

like that, haven't you?

Hence, you came to me,

to the greatest thief of all

times. You want me

to steal away your fear of

small, narrow places.”

She tried to speak

but managed only

a fervent nod

“I see,” he said. “Well then,

rest assured.

You've been robbed

already. You've been robbed

the moment you

set foot in here.”

“H-how?”

“I told you. I am the thief

of all thieves. Before you

see me once,

I will have seen you

for a lifetime. The ultimate thief

is he who is so good

that the victim doesn't

even realize they've been

stolen from.

So stand now, dear, and follow

me inside the

narrow cabin.

Your fear is now in my pockets,

however I was so

subtle that you didn't notice. You

think you still have it.

Yet I must ask

you, what is there

for the dead to fear?”

She hesitated. “I... don't know.”

“That's right. You don't

know. And never will. And what

you don't know

can't hurt you, can it?

Now stand, child. And follow

me inside.”

She stood

but didn't follow as he

departed for the cabin

“What's wrong?” he asked

“The storm that is approaching,”

she said. "I don't fear

it either. I don't

need safety.”

Her words made him burst

into laughter. “Ah, I knew it

was a great idea to

let you find me.

Very well then. When you've had

enough of the storm,

I'll be waiting for

you inside.”

He went in

and closed the door

the storm was

getting ever closer

She brought her log closer to

the fire

and placed her naked feet

in the flames,

looked up at the sky

and laughed

the thunder laughed

right back

***

INSTAGRAM:

https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/

If I was not a poet

I would be

filtered sunlight

on Sunday mornings,

dawning on

hearts and their

tangled

mess

If I was not a poet

I would be

a chasm,

a catch

for moments

before death

If I was not a poet

I would be

the mountain

under mountains,

reckless

in my burgeon,

everywhere

unseen

If I was not a poet

I would be

blank,

a bare infinity

rewritten,

over

and over

again

and again

In high and summer season gold Apuchi did blaze

The well-till’d plains of Armatta to bake in bitter heat,

Her cities marble and porphyry a sweltering aglow,

Her people eager seeking shade and shelter from his gaze.

Wide rivers bearing cargos traffick’d freely in her streets,

Stone iters bearing pilgrims from temples high and low,

All stilled, as strick’n, by strident solar pussiance were stay'd

And frozen as in amber, dazzling sunshine were entrapped

With ears aroar with pulsing blood to tropic ryhthm pounded.

Thus Armatta in siesta as prostrate at noon lay

While Apuchi held dominion o’er all, and with rapt

Attention spared none, but to each made full well astounded.

Such were the days of Armatta in blooming of the late spring

In the troublesome days before the return of the King.