Backyard Shivers

Once Upon the Park

Come on, sit down. She's harmless--not a rabbit, are you?

Do you have kids? I have a daughter, son...several grandkids.
That's why she's here, keeps us all safe under the leaves.
My oldest granddaughter just went back home.
Pacer.
Pacer Bentley. Do you follow the soccer teams?
She's going to be on the track team one day.
Loves to run with that one
All through the streets near me.
Are you a runner?
Safer if you are...but I understand.
Don't run so much myself, these days.
Pacer has been learning how to run--
Not to be chased. She doesn't flee. Her mother...
She had to go home. I'm so glad to have met you, dear.
Mint?
Are you chilly? Lots of shade just right here.
She likes to sniff in around the toes of the trees.
Well, you came into the woods, didn't you?
Nice, safe trees. And they put those shavings on the paths.
Absorbs sound, everything.
Let her have a sniff of your palm, dear.
That's right.
Oh...wolves...family-centric. Loyal. Do you like the collar?
Red is easier to see than dark fur.
The buzzing? You've come on the best day. Wearing your ponytail, no less.
Well, you were worried about Daisy.
Named her for the first granddaughter she ever ate.
No, no, I'm only kidding.
It is. You know the red wasps?
The ones living on your porch? Nibbling on your fence?
Red as rubies...
Pacer had to leave, but I'm glad you're here.
I've never had a horse in this race before.
Well, the Wild Hunt. It's shifted.
Most of the old riders have come to the benches
To watch the steeds run under others.
All the jockeys with their prods, all the girls with their dreams
Of horses.
You'll learn to pace yourself
After the first sting.

Thanks to Carrie for the above image prompt and to Lizbeth for the name Pacer Bentley, which I want to use in everything now. :)

Itinerant Wizards

May I Share the Hero's Journey With You?

The wizard came to tea last week; he's older now and impatient.
If you don't answer the door...well, what's wrong with tea?
We keep ours in a pitcher in the fridge, never warm it up this time of year.
Don't fuss with it--just pour it in a glass (Ice? No ice?) and there it is.
Drink it while we talk but don't make it precious.
Of course, I'm always interested in hearing about "adventures."
I'm not adventurous, personally. I'm the left-over-receipt-for-a-forgotten-tchotchke sort,
Not the kept-in-the-back-pocket-for-emergencies kind.
Well, yes, I've heard of the hero narrative...
But our heroes are more--political. They march and protest or battle online--
Online? Real enough.
Outside, you mean? Like, down the block?
Oh, and on to the wider world. The city? Across the state, maybe?
I mean, you could. Get lots of online followers, probably.
Enough of them and your quest would be funded...underwritten by ads.
But few actual doors would open. And people here own guns, not swords.
You'd probably be confused with LARPers. Or worse.
They'd be critiquing your costume. Sending surveillance footage
Of the "creeper with the cape" to the news.
Yes...I mean--but good and evil? Distilled into one person or another?
As in the War to End All Wars?! That's on TV all the time.
Black and white burr of gunfire and commentary.
Would you like to see it? 
Sorry. Of course you have.
No, it's nice to get to talk to someone. It's lonely here.
Not many people around during the day. And I don't mind a sales pitch with my tea.
I can't see that I need a quest right now. There's the dogs to feed and protests to like,
Memes to deplore...and I get so angry about all that stuff.
But who am I to get angry? This is a nice house, good neighborhood.
You have to bank your fury right down into contentment.
I know. Useful to one side or to the other. There's no middle ground with you questers.
Don't argue library shelves with me. They're not altars, just...shelves.
Books.
Please don't turn into one of those jackasses who sell magazines---
Sweet until you're refused.
Then they're all pissed that their cheap-assed pitch (which we've all heard a million times)
Doesn't inspire me to rip out my wallet and start ordering magazines
That are ALSO trying to sell me something.
I'm not grabbing my tennis shoes at the first mention of good versus evil.
If I can't afford to replace my tires why would I buy Total War Fantasia?
I do have more tea. All those deep breaths before closed doors
Would make me thirsty, too.

d...d...d...Decade LXX: Saturday Night Disaster

There's a click and you can smell something warming the wires,
plastic wood, and metal; someone tells you to back up
Before She thumps to a stop, blonde hair uncurling in a gust of wind.
A voice fuzzes over her walkie-talkie:
Dis...aster at the...ant
She clicks it, calls into it,
sits down in the sand and clay against tread ziggurats--
you feel grit under your palms, too, as you lean into the same sound.
Her sneaker hits the hard base of a solidified tread, stops.
What?
A chill falls from your spine, pooling around your shorts,
as if the tile was a pond. Despite the summer vibrating behind you,
beneath that yellow light, thumping against the glass. Behind you.
You're the one in the glass-light to it.
She's wearing a coat.
The a/c makes you shiver.
The tile reflects kitchen light, shadows swapping cards.
Everything hums--it's not a digital decade.
It's a disaster decade.
70 miles an hour, 70 yards from safety.
She begins yelling into the walkie.
No one responds. Cards slither in the kitchen.
The house's skeleton pops, creaks.
You remember pink fluff behind the sheetrock.
These walls are parka-thin.