Archive for the ‘Stories’ Category

The Venti Anchor

Wednesday, September 18th, 2024
Why does he think he needs a fancy new expensive anchor?
It’s not that expensive.
Well it’s not money coming out of his pocket. That damn boat cost more than . . . more than a . . . it didn’t come out of his pocket either.
Maybe we need to get it in writing.
Don’t go bringing up the ‘need’ for that legal crap again.
I’m just saying . . .
You’re saying too much . . . as usual.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Can I get you another cup of coffee?
How much is it?
Two seventy five.
The anchor, not the damn coffee. Jesus!
The anchor is two hundred and seventy five dollars.
Ha-ha! My venti cost two dollars and seventy five cents. Here’s the money for the coffee. And here’s the money for the damn anchor.
Thanks mom.
Just let him know that’s the end of it. Damn boat. Damn venti anchor.

Scarecrow of Oz Poetry

Wednesday, June 7th, 2023
With his head full of brains, the Scarecrow decided to compose sonnets for and about the two best friends: Dorothy Gale and Princess Ozma of Oz. 
He stood up as straight as he could and spoke to the assembled Court of Ozma, Princess and Queen of Oz.  In his hand was a scroll he unrolled to read from.

“My dear friends, here are four sonnets celebrating the history of the best friends Oz has ever known:

Dorothy and Ozma Meet

When Dorothy met Ozma, both felt love
The love one feels when friends are ever true
True friends can be like rainbows up above
In Emerald City love can be true-blue
The two that met as friends became much more
The two we know and feel their friendship true
Like diamonds sparkle, love begets rapport
The trust these two embraced was fresh and new
It’s always new each time we come to trust
To trust the truth of friendship, love’s embrace
It’s like some kind of magic fairy dust
At times it brings a smile to your face
They smiled with joy at magic love they found
Together Oz would be their common ground.

Ozma and Dorothy Rule

When Ozma ruled in Oz and Dorothy came
She came to see her friend, the goodly queen
The princess ruled, yes Ozma was her name
Their friendship was the best you’ve ever seen
So good that Ozma gave her friend the throne
When she had things to do in fairyland
She went to see Queen Lurline who was known
As one in Oz who was both good and grand
And so by trust they ruled in Oz as one
If “ruled” is what you call togetherness
They knew their work in Oz was never done
Together “no” was no and “yes” was yes
Their friendship grew through ruling all with care
And friendship’s love was present everywhere.

Dorothy and Ozma Part

When Dorothy and Ozma had to part
They hoped their love forever strong would dwell
When love is found in any loving heart
The strength of love is something we should tell
We tell it like a story, strong and dear
(Two dear ones I’ve composed these poems for)
Their story bears their love both far and near
Historically there’s love and so much more
What’s more than love you say? Well I’ll reply
There’s Dorothy and Ozma, like a song
A song that sweeps you up into the sky
As if it knows where love and you belong
The princess and her friend will always be
A monument to love’s sweet history.

Ozma and Dorothy Kiss

When Ozma wanted Dorothy to stay
She leaned in close and gifted her a kiss
Tornados twist and take us far away
But oftentimes tornados lead to this
The love of friends too true to leave behind
Waits time and time again for sweet return
Though never lost it may be hard to find
A lesson Dorothy Gale was quick to learn
She fell in love with Ozma here in Oz
And Princess Ozma fell in love with her
They felt their kindred love would never pause
They kissed goodbye with love and friendship pure
The land of Oz will always draw you home
And kiss you when you feel the need to roam.”

Princess Ozma had a tear of happiness in her eye as she addressed the Scarecrow poet while handing him a golden pen that appeared in her hand.
“For composing such beautiful poetry, I hereby appoint you to replace Sir Dashemoff Daily as the official Poet Laureate of Oz.”

Scarecrow Image by W. W. Denslow, 1900

Dorothy and Ozma Image by John Rea Neill, 1907

Princess Alexandra

Friday, May 23rd, 2008

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Alexandra. Only she wasn’t just a little girl, she was a Princess. Princess Alexandra loved to sit by her window in Light Manor Castle, which is where she lived, and listen to the birds sing and watch the clouds go by. She especially liked to watch the clouds as they formed into different shapes. Sometimes they were sailing ships or dragons or even a beautiful pony. She liked so much to sit and watch the clouds and listen to the birds singing in the big, beautiful maple trees which stood next to the clear, burbling brook which watered the emerald-green grass-she liked this all so much that she often forgot about her chores and lessons.
One day she told her nursemaid, Miss Kate, that chores and lessons were a waste of time for a Princess.
“A Princess should not work like a servant,” she told Miss Kate. “Princesses were made to appreciate all the delicate beauties of the land. The birds’ songs, the wonderful shapes of clouds, the great shady maple trees, the clear, clean, burbling brook, and the emerald-green grass.”
Miss Kate nodded her head wisely and replied, “Princess Alexandra, you are right-partly.”
“Partly?” Cried the Princess, indignantly.
“Yes, partly,” repeated the wise nursemaid. “Princesses should spend time appreciating all the beautiful things of the land. The birds’ songs, the wonderful shapes of clouds, the great shady maple trees, the clear, clean, burbling brook, and the emerald-green grass.”
Princess Alexandra smiled and nodded.
“But,” said Miss Kate, “There are things that Princesses must learn in their lessons, and there are things that only Princesses can do. Only a Princess can weave the magic fabric which is used to make the flags which protect our land from the Beast Beyond.”
Princess Alexandra wasn’t listening very carefully to Miss Kate’s lecture, she was too busy daydreaming near the window of her room in Light Manor castle, wondering what it would be like to be a bird flying high into the clouds above and singing beautiful songs to make young girls happy. When Miss Kate mentioned the flags made of magic fabric, however, Princess Alexandra noticed the ring of flagpoles far on the horizon.
“I know it’s important,” the Princess sighed, “I will try harder.”
The border of the kingdom, which was called Solitude, was protected from the Beast beyond by these flagpoles which flew flags sewn from magic fabric made by every Princess who had ever lived in Light Manor Castle. In order to keep the Beast from Beyond outside of the land, Solitude, the Princess had to weave enough fabric for one new flag each month. By paying attention to weaving lessons and working hard, most Princesses were able to do this task in two days by their tenth birthday. Princess Alexandra had just turned ten and it still took her a full week to make the fabric. Last month she spent so much time watching the birds and the clouds from her window that it actually took two weeks to weave enough magic fabric to make the monthly flag. This displeased her parents, the King and Queen of Solitude, very much.
The queen had to sew the flags once the fabric was woven. The King had to place the flag at the proper place on the border once the Queen had finished sewing it. Both the King and the Queen had very busy schedules and so Princess Alexandra’s dawdling created a lot of scheduling problems for them.
“If the fabric isn’t done by the end of the first week of the month,” said the Queen, “I have to cancel my Saturday riding lesson, shift my card game from Wednesday to Thursday, rearrange the visits from the courting ladies, and send Matilda to market with only half a shopping list. Honestly Alexandra, You must try harder. We are all counting on you.”
Princess Alexandra’s Father, the King, was even more stern with her. “We can’t have this dawdling anymore, young lady,” he barked gruffly at her. “If the fabric isn’t woven on time, the flag doesn’t get made on time. Then I have to create a hole in my soldiers’ training schedule so that I can get the flag out to the border. Troops can’t be kept waiting! Rank and file, Alexandra. Precision and bearing are crucial. Drill and ceremonies must be preceded by counsel and order. Duty! Honor! Country! Do you understand what I am telling you?”
Princess Alexandra hadn’t the foggiest notion what her Father was saying, but she looked him straight in the eye, gave her best military salute, and in her deepest voice (which wasn’t very deep at all) she shouted, “Yes sir!” That was the way she saw the soldiers respond to her Father and it seemed to please him when they did so.
The King frowned slightly, then smiled ever-so-slightly and said, “Just try harder, Princess. We are all counting on you.”
Princess Alexandra didn’t like to disappoint her Mother and Father, so she set about learning to weave faster until she could weave the magic fabric faster than any Princess had ever done before. Each month for the rest of the year the fabric was finished by noon on the second day of the month. This made the King and Queen immensely happy and they gave Princess Alexandra a beautiful pony for Christmas. Then Spring came once again. The big, fluffy clouds came out in all their wonderful shapes. The birds returned to sing in the great shady maple trees by the clear, clean, burbling brook which watered the emerald-green grass which Charley Horse (that was the name of the Princess’ new pony) loved to eat.
Princess Alexandra would ride Charley Horse out to the trees and the birds and the brook and the grassy fields every day. Then she would lie on her back beneath a great, shady maple tree and watch the clouds as the birds sang to her.
“If I were a bird,” she said to no one in particular, “I would fly up to those great, fluffy clouds and make big ice-cream scoops of them to eat all day long.”
Princess Alexandra was surprised when someone spoke back to her. “And if I were a little girl, I would wish for the exact same thing,” said a little voice above her. “But I would dearly love to ride through the countryside on a beautiful little pony.” The voice that spoke to her belonged to a blackbird who was sitting on the lowest branch of the maple tree Princess Alexandra was lying under.
The Princess was quite startled to be spoken to by a blackbird, but she was also very curious about this bird. “Riding a pony is very fun,” she admitted to the bird, “but, I imagine it is not as thrilling as soaring way up in the blue sky and flying right through the great, fluffy clouds.”
“Through the clouds!” exclaimed the blackbird. The suggestion seemed to upset the bird, who jumped form branch to branch with his feathers ruffled. It took a moment for him to settle back down. When he regained his composure he spoke with a little, nervous laugh. “Ha, ha. No, Princess, soaring through the clouds is terribly boring. Ha, ha. It can be dangerous, too. You can’t see where you are going very well, and your feathers get all wet so you have to flap harder. Ha. Ha, ha. It is much more exciting to fly around them. Ha, ha.”
“Hmm,” said the Princess, “I hadn’t thought of all that. I suppose you are right. But it’s all very pointless to discuss. I shall never be able to fly through or around anything at all.
“I could teach you,” said the bird. “I could show you how to soar as high as the clouds.” As he said this he jumped into the air, did a small loop and landed right back in the same spot as before.
The Princess started laughing and she began to flap her arms furiously to pretend she was trying to fly. “Oh, it’ll never work, you silly bird,” and she laughed some more.
“Well,” said the bird, “that’s a very dim view of things. I don’t suppose you’d even be interested in giving it a try my way.” The blackbird jumped up to a higher branch and set his wings to fly away.
Princess Alexandra was afraid she had upset the bird. She had never met a talking bird before and didn’t want him to fly away so she called out, “Oh, please don’t go. I’m afraid I’ve been terribly rude. I haven’t even introduced myself. I am the Princess Alexandra from Light Manor castle, and I should like it very much if you would stay and teach me how to fly.”
“Well, Princess Alexandra, my name is Scotch and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Princess Alexandra curtsied politely and replied, “I’m pleased to meet you too, Scotch. Can you really teach me how to fly?”
“Well,” said scotch, “it’s not so much a matter of teaching you to fly as it is convincing the air that you are a bird. You see, if we can trick the air into thinking that you are a bird, the rest is easy.”
“How do we do that?” asked the Princess, who wasn’t sure if she believed this.
“You must give me a strand of your hair. Then I will pluck out one of my feathers. Next, you must wrap the hair around the feather. I will then take them up high into the sky and let them go. When the air smells them together it will become confused and not be able to tell the difference between you and me, and you shall be able to fly as freely as I do.”
Princess Alexandra thought that Scotch was loony and was making this all up, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings again, so she agreed to give his plan a try. She plucked a long strand of hair from her head and Scotch plucked one of the feathers from his wing. The Princess wrapped the hair around the feather and tied it at both ends so it wouldn’t come loose. Then she gave it to Scotch, who disappeared with it in his beak, away up into the sky.
The Princess sat down beneath the maple tree to wait for Scotch to return. Soon, however, she fell asleep. As she slept, she had strange dreams of falling and floating and flying. She dreamed that the wind was tossing her through the air like a leaf. She awoke to someone calling her name.
“Princess Alexandra. He, he.” It was a funny looking small man sitting on her pony.
“What are you doing on Charley Horse,” she demanded.
“You had better get up before the cats come around. Ha, ha.” There was something familiar about his laugh.
“Who are you?” the Princess asked.
“Why, I am your old friend, Scotch. He, he.”
Princess Alexandra jumped to her feet, but found herself fluttering in mid air. Her body was much lighter than she expected. She stretched out her arms to steady herself and saw, to her surprise, instead of arms she had two black feathered wings. Scotch had tricked the Princess and he rode away on Charley Horse laughing aloud. “Fly away Princess. Fly away before the cats find you. He, he. Ha, ha.”
Princess Alexandra fluttered up to the highest branch in the tree and watched Scotch disappear in the distance on her little pony, Charley Horse. Suddenly she realized, “I’m a bird. I can fly!” And she took to the air and flew toward the castle.
The day was ending and night was coming on, and so it was difficult to see where she was going. In the distance the Princess saw a light. She thought it was a light in a window of Light Manor Castle, but as long as she flew, it never seemed to get any closer. Soon she became tired and landed in a tall tree to rest.
When she awoke in the morning she was completely lost in the middle of a forest. Light Manor Castle was nowhere in sight. She sat there in the tree and cried for a while, but instead of making a crying sound it came out as “Cheep, cheep. Chee-cheep.” A voice whispered in her head, “If you keep making noises you may attract cats.” And so Princess Alexandra did her best to stop crying and be brave. The voice in her head spoke to her again-she thought it was her own thoughts, although it sounded a lot like her nursemaid, Miss Kate. “Perhaps if you fly high into the sky you will be able to see where you are.”
Princess Alexandra knew that the best view of the land Solitude was from the highest tower of Light Manor Castle, so flying higher to get a better view made sense to her. Up into the air she flew, higher and higher. She flew up in a great big spiral until she could see all the way to the edge of the forest and beyond.
To the north were mountains she had never seen before. To the south was a great ocean. To the west she could see a broad prairie and to the east was a desert. The forest was still right below her, a great sea of green trees. But for as high as she had flown she could still not see her home, Light Manor Castle, or anything familiar from the land of Solitude.
As she was looking at the land below the Princess flew higher and higher until, suddenly, she couldn’t see things quite as clearly. Everything was getting misty and she realized she was in a cloud.
Suddenly, a large booming voice like thunder surrounded and shook the Princess. “You! How dare you come back here to ruin my artwork again!”
“Please,” the Princess called out, “I’m l-lost. Pleas help m-me.”
A large man with wings walked out of the mist and stood before Princess Alexandra. She wondered how he could stand on a cloud. He had a chisel in one hand and a hammer in the other. He also had wings on his back. He looked angry, and when he spoke to the Princess it was with the same gruff tone that her father, the King, used when he was upset.
“What sort of game is this? You say you are lost and need help.”
“Please, sir,” said the Princess, “I would greet you properly, but I do not know your name.”
“Don’t know my name, eh? Well I know yours-Scotch. You mischievous little gnome. I warned you that if you ever came back here I would . . .” the man shook his tools even harder in the air.
“Oh, no,” cried the Princess, “I’m not Scotch. He tricked me. I’m a Princess from Light Manor Castle in the land of Solitude. I’m not even a bird, really.”
“Princess? Bah! I don’t believe it. Prove it.”
“But how,” she asked?”
“Well, everyone knows that a gnome like Scotch can’t make rhymes. When a gnome tries to make a rhyme, his tongue gets tied in a knot and he can’t talk for ten days. So, if you really are a Princess and not that troublesome gnome, Scotch, you just make me up a rhyme for me to prove it.”
“Oh, dear,” said the Princess, “I’ve never made up a rhyme before. What should I rhyme about?”
“Ha! Quit stalling you little gnome. I knew it was you. You won’t fool me this time.” The man started toward the Princess.
“Wait,” she cried, “I’ll make you a rhyme about clouds:
When the sky is blue and bright
And filled with fluffy clouds of white
Then I close my eyes and dream
Of all the shapes that clouds can seem”

“Oh, that’s good,” said the winged man as he lowered his tools. “Keep going. Tell me ‘all the shapes that clouds can seem.'”
Princess Alexandra continued with her rhyming:
“Once I saw a cloud ride high
On the highway of the sky
‘That,’ I said, ‘looks like a horse
Although it is a cloud of course.'”

The winged man laughed. “Oh, yes! I love to make horses. They’re one of my favorite subjects. Go on, go on. Tell me what else you see when you look at the clouds?”
The Princess really felt like she was getting the hang of making rhymes and she continued with this one:
“A long, thin cloud once floated past
Its teeth were first, its tail was last
‘A crocodile,’ I cried, but realized later
That long thin cloud was an alligator!”

“Ho, ho,” the winged man laughed again. “One more, one more. You’re quite good at this game, I must say!”
The Princess rhymed for him again:
“The clouds were piled up so tall
I thought that surely they must fall
But, they must have had as good a planner
As the builders of my home, Light Manor.”

At the name of her home, Princess Alexandra burst into tears and began sobbing in the bird voice that came out as “Cheep, ch-cheep. Chee-cheep.”
“There, there,” said the winged man. Don’t cry Princess,” his voice suddenly lost all its thunder and became as soothing as Miss Kate, the nursemaid. “How is it that you came to be a bird, little Princess?”
Princess Alexandra told him the whole story about how she had been tricked by Scotch and how she had lost her way trying to get back home.
“Are you an angel,” she asked?
“Well,” said the man, “that depends on how you define ‘angel.’ I don’t guard anyone or grant wishes or play a harp or anything like that. I’m a cloud sculptor. By the way, what is your name?”
“My name is Princess Alexandra,” she answered politely.
“I am honored to meet you, Princess Alexandra of Light Manor Castle,” the man said as he bowed, “My name is Ali-sharif.”

( 1997 Scott Ennis

Petals of Wisdom

Tuesday, November 25th, 1924



In a quiet village nestled at the edge of an ancient forest, a curious girl named Elira loved to wander through the trees. She felt more at home among the whispers of leaves than in the bustling marketplace where her parents worked.

One warm afternoon, as the golden sunlight filtered through the canopy, Elira stumbled upon a flower unlike any she’d ever seen. Its petals shimmered with iridescent hues, shifting like a living rainbow. Drawn to its beauty, she carefully plucked the flower and carried it home.

Her grandmother, a keeper of old stories, gasped when she saw it. “That’s the Luminara Bloom,” she whispered. “Legends say it grows where the veil between worlds is thinnest. But beware, child—it carries strange power.”

Intrigued by her grandmother’s warning, Elira decided to experiment. She dried the petals and rolled them into a delicate herbal stick. That evening, under a moonlit sky, she lit the flower and inhaled its sweet, otherworldly fragrance.

Suddenly, the world around her shimmered and dissolved into a cascade of lights. When the brilliance faded, Elira found herself in a place of wonder. The sky was a kaleidoscope of stars, and giant trees with glowing fruit lined her path.

At the center of this magical realm stood an ancient creature, half-elk, half-human, with kind, luminous eyes. “Welcome, traveler,” it said, its voice resonating like music. “I am Thalorin, keeper of truths. What brings you here?”

Elira hesitated before replying. “I… I want to understand why we’re here. What’s the meaning of life?”

Thalorin smiled knowingly and gestured for her to sit. “The meaning of life,” he began, “is not a single truth, but a tapestry woven from countless moments. It is in the joy of discovery, the love we share, and the courage to face challenges. It is the journey, not the destination.”

As he spoke, visions of her own life appeared around her—the laughter with her family, the thrill of exploring the forest, the warmth of her grandmother’s stories. Elira felt a profound sense of connection and understanding.

When she awoke back in her bed, the flower’s petals had turned to ash, but the lessons remained. Elira carried Thalorin’s wisdom with her, finding magic and meaning in everyday life. Though she could never return to the alternate world, the Luminara Bloom had gifted her a new perspective—one she would cherish forever.