Change

My heart beats an anthropological tune

My breath slows in time with long forgotten rhythms

My world spins a little slower everyday

 

I have space to think of nothing and beyond

I have time to stare into empty places

I have words weaving magic in my brain

 

Copyright July 2015

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Carolina Finds a New Home

The Proprietor of the Pet Shop in Upper Weeping, watched as Little Veronica Waldorf pushed her nose up to the glass, hands pressed on either side of her face, eyes large and imploring as she viewed the display of hanging bats, multi-coloured baby dragons, and a couple of brand new Smug Sphinxes. The Proprietor knew that as much as Veronica loved all creatures, her heart was set on a miniature crocodile. The Proprietor also knew that her mother had said NO! OVER MY DEAD BODY! and I’LL KILL ANYONE WHO GIVES MY DAUGHTER A CROCODILE!

Mrs. Waldorf, the owner of Saturnalia Salads, was a formidable Human of the Gargantuan variety. Little Veronica was only little in comparison.  The Pet Shop Proprietor never, ever went against anything Walnut Waldorf said, so he tried, daily, to ignore that yearning look on little Veronica’s face.

Little Veronica was friends with Velella, a Wolfpack Demon and Marcus, a Diminutive Dwarf, the two apprentices from Maude Philpott’s knitting and wool shop, Click Clacks. The three of them had formed a little gang of minor mischief, their turf being the main street of Upper Weeping and all of St Willaston’s Park.

St. Willaston’s Park was the place they’d decided on as the safest to keep the miniature crocodile when they’d stolen it from the pet shop. Having spent the past three weeks enclosing off a small dam and checking out books from The Library of No Mirth on Crocodile Keeping, What To Feed You Crocodile and All You ever Wanted to Know about Manure, they were ready. The heist would be that night.

Carolina the Crocodile was quite happy to follow the little gang out of The Pet Shop, along the main street {quietly}, and out into St. Willaston’s Park. She very happily allowed herself to be placed inside the enclosure with her very own swimming pool and resting facilities. When she was given a chicken to eat she fell in love with this large human who offered it to her. She promised herself she would never bite that hand, as long as it continued to feed her.

For the next few days The Pet Shop Proprietor avoided Mrs. Waldorf until he finally realised she knew nothing of the crocodile’s release. He also turned a blind eye to Little Veronica’s newfound interest in vermin control and the trio’s daily visits to St. Willaston’s Park. On the whole he felt Carolina was probably happier outside and what Mrs. Waldorf didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him.

 

Copyright September 2014

Pachydermatitis

Sometimes in life you just throw out phrases without thinking of the consequences. For example: My friend Veronica, in the middle of an argument about who did what way back in High School, suddenly yelled at me “You’re a damn elephant you are, never forget anything!!”

Now you think this would be an innocuous statement in itself not a portent of the future. Yet, the next morning I awoke in a new pachydermous skin. My skin was grey and saggy, my nose had a distinctly trunk like appearance and my ears flapped in the breeze. I had a craving for peanuts. No one seemed to notice, which proved my theory that we humans never really look beyond ourselves.

As I swayed my way to work I felt the need to trumpet to the world. I’m big!! I’m a pachyderm!! I’m beautiful!! I managed to stop myself concerned that I’d be taken away and locked up.

So, everyday I became a little more elephantine. As no one seemed to notice I became more comfortable in my new pachydermous skin. I worried less and less about my appearance. I found that my students listened to me more as my classroom had become a place of fun. My elephant self was quite mischievous. My students laughed a lot.

One day a travelling circus arrived in town. I tried to resist but the lure was too strong. I went to talk to the two elephants tethered in the field next to the main tent and introduced myself as a fellow pachyderm. Have you ever heard an elephant laugh??? I did, that day. They scoffed at my stupidity.

I ran home crying, gazed tearfully into the mirror and saw that they were right, I was only human.

After I was diagnosed with pachydermatitis I switched careers, became an elephant handler with the circus.

Copyright April 2013