Fifteen Minutes Of Fiction Featured Gallery

Come With Me in the Night

"Come with me," said the arctic fox to his silvery corvidae friend,
"Let us wander 'neath the tundra moon and watch the snow descend.
Together we can haunt the night, as lonely as two ghosts,
leaving no trace as we pass, with shadows of morose."

"Come with me," said the silver crow to his ghostly vulpine friend,
"Let us wander where the trees have gone and into clouds ascend.
Together we can hunt the night, you kill and I shall reap,
and all shall fear to hear our song call in the twilight sleep."

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Ode to garlic

Fresh garlic is a healthy thing -
it helps keep colds away.
(And, if you've read your Dracula,
keeps vampires at bay).

It's also quite a lovely taste
in pasta, bread, or sauce;
the scent of which does not soon fade,
though one may brush and floss.

Yet that's no cause to not indulge,
if you are one like me -
for there's no one to be repulsed
in this vicinity.

So open up the windows and
let garlic be consumed!
Let houseplants wither, neighbors cry,
and all the bugs be doomed!

Let hugs and kisses all be spurned,
for this is what I say:
The biggest perk of singlehood
is garlic every day!

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As I Was Walking in the Park One Day

As I was walking in the park today
I spied a pheasant by the way
I wondered at his pretty head
his coloring of rust and red
then fancied he'd look better dead
and served up with a slice of bread

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Ode to the Fort by the Sea

Here in the lull of centuries removed
From those whom you were built to keep at bay,
You stand, crippled reminder, by the rocks,
Which waves still loudly crash upon each day.
If crumbling walls could speak, they'd surely tell,
Of men who served, and entered through your doors.
Did they eat, and drink, and laugh within the walls?
And which ones spilled their blood upon your floors?
Now those who enter call you merely quaint;
And hippies decorate with cans of paint.

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Turning Over the Keys

Elana used to love being home. She took pride in making it a welcome place for her family. The counters sparkled, the laundry was lined up in neatly folded piles, and the floors were glistening. A cake was usually rising in the oven and the family Irish Setter was always bounding through the house with a toy. In the evening, Elana sprinkled essential oil of orange throughout the house so that it cheered everyone. She made wonderful meals, kissed her children, was kind to her husband, and loved being a mother and wife. Not a person who entered Elana's house ever wanted to leave. Homey they said. Warm. Inviting. Safe.

The change was subtle. Elana's husband started to sigh as the bills piled up in the mailbox. The stacks of bills remained unopened. Soon, the bill collectors began calling day and night. Elana's peace and security were threatened, but they were shattered into a cold reality one day when a tow truck pulled into her driveway. Elana had just returned home from picking her daughter up from school. As she was closing the door of the car, she saw a stout, solemn faced man approaching her. Without an introduction, he told Elena he was there to repossess the car and demanded the keys. Stunned, and forcing back the lump that was taking over her throat, Elana offered to write a check. No, that wasn't a possibility. Clear out the car and turn over the keys.

Elana heard the soft footsteps on the landing of the house door. Her fifteen year old daughter was watching. Without a word, she went to the car and began taking out her belongings. Elana worked next to her taking out pens, drinking cups, papers, a rosary -- all the items of living that occupy a second home, the family car.

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My Culinary Masterpiece

My recipe begins with just a smidge
Of things I find left over in my fridge;
A bit of tartar sauce, a pickled beet,
A cup of curdled milk and myst'ry meat,
A chunk of cheddar cheese that's green,
A bit of coffee grounds, just for caffeine.
I mix in sugar, eggs, three cups of flour,
Then set the timer for a half an hour.
The smell that gently wafts throughout my home
Is like the sweet bouquet of fresh-turned loam.
My mind is dizzy with the happy thought
Of this, the masterpiece that I have wrought.
Oh, how I do adore my Easy-Bake,
So come, my friend, and have a piece of cake!

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The Aneraulax/ Man-wife of Surbia

On the isle of Surbia lives the strange mythological creature called the Aneraulax. Named by the Greeks and roughly translated as 'man-wife' this unreal creature is thought to believe in many unheard of ideas, such as; 'marriage is a fifty-fifty partnership' and 'there is no such thing as women's work or men's work there is only work that needs to be done.' Although most Aneraulaxes enjoy sports, on TV or a day on the links, they also like to do things with their wives and many say they enjoy finding a bargain when shopping with the wife at the mall as much as playing par on the back nine. It has been said they get as much pleasure as their wives watching 'Grey's Anatomy' and I have heard some even cry watching Ghost Whisperer. One thing is known for sure the Aneraulax has made life on Surbia a more pleasurable experience for all, especially their wives who know no matter what, from just taking out the trash to changing a dirty diaper they can depend on their husband to do his part.

Of course, we know the Aneraulax is nothing but pure fantasy, a mythological creature that does not exist. We also know the Greeks created these myths to spin stories of satire, as a way of showing the human animal in a different light. I can only assume most of the wives and husbands of the world dream of living on Surbia, an isle of happy relationships, with couples working together toward a single goal of married bliss.

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To Will

What better way to write a line of verse
Than following the methods of the Bard
For countless times these lines I did rehearse
To verify the rhythm is not marred

To hear me tell myself di dum di dum
Did seem to some as proof that I’m not sound
So quietly I mouthed it in a hum
To keep my meter counting volume down

Be gentle to me reader of my words
Be kind as I am new to this old art
And thus I end my first iambic verse
Apologies to Will the Avon Bard

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Autumn Leaves

The leaves all quiver in the autumn breeze
Already changing colour as the days
Are growing shorter, cooler as they pass.
Then comes a time the leaves let loose their hold.
The tree shakes off its shimmering coat of gold.

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The Automobile Accident

There's danger in the evening air
As children gaze with shameless stare
Upon the mangled shape that's there
Amidst the smoking mass

A gentleman, a lady fair
Circle 'round with beauty rare
A placid day, a perfect pair
Until they went too fast

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