Short Story Saturday

Sitting directly under the Eiffel Tower, and looking up into it's metal intricacies, Emer contemplated her next move. In theory, she had plenty of money, but it was all tied up with a large amount of red tape back in the United States. To get it, she would have to go back, and talk with the trustees of her parents will. Something she did not want to do.
In reality, she had about 13 euro in her pocket. That was enough, possibly, for a Croque Monsieur, and, if she was lucky, a plastic glass full of red wine from the umbrella stand located in the nearby garden. She'd been traveling for the entire three years since her parents died, and her soul still hurt when she thought about them. So she didn't.
Hearing footsteps on her left hand side, her hand immediately went to her hidden money pouch, where her remaining Euro's and her passport were located. To her shock, they were gone.
"Looking for these, dearie?" said a diminutive woman, with lavender hair, and strange, purple-green eyes. In her tiny hands, was everything that Emer had.
"How did you.. why did you.. Oh hell" said Emer, feeling defeated.
"I took them for your own good, my girl" answered Ava, briskly. "Now, get on your feet, you urchin, and come with me."
"Why should I?" answered Emer, resentfully.
"Because I delivered you into this world, I have your passport, and I know where the best Croque Monsieur's are" answered Ava, brooking no argument from the girl. Spinning on her heel, she strode as fast as her little legs could carry her away from the Eiffel Tower, towards the bridge that led to the other side of the Seine. Reluctantly, Emer got to her feet, and followed her. Except, when she caught up with her, nearly at the bridge, somehow, they weren't in Paris anymore, and Emer found herself crossing the threshold into a small cottage, where a kettle of hot water was steaming merrily on the stove, and all the makings for a ham and cheese sandwich was sitting on the sideboard.
"Sit down" said the tiny lady.
"Who are you?" asked Emer, doing as she was told.
"I am Ava, the midwife who delivered you" was the answer she got. In a short amount of time, a sandwich, and a cup of tea was plunked down in front of her. Ava would not let her eat until she washed up, though. Finally, Emer sat down, and ate. And ate more. After three sandwiches and four cups of tea, she was finally full. And very sleepy.
Bathroom is up the stairs, first door on your left. Your bedroom will be immediately to the right. Shower, then bed. In the morning, I will deal with you" instructed Ava. Once again, Emer did as she was told.
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Emer got up in the morning, and put on the same old clothes she'd been wearing for the last month. Only, they were suddenly clean, and new in appearance. Tiding the room, out of habit, and good manners, she could not help but think of her mother. Wiping the tears that fell, she finished, and made her way downstairs, to find a small table set with her breakfast, and a note. Finding that she was very hungry, she sat down, and devoured the blueberry scone and glass of milk. She picked up the note, and read Ava's request that she meet her in the garden. Shrugging, she went out the little door, and followed the path into the garden. Ava was sitting at a small table, with a scrapbook in front of her, slowly turning the pages. Seeing Emer approach, she smiled, and nodded at the seat next to her.
"Tea, dear?" she asked the girl.
"No thank you" Emer stammered, looking down into the scrap book into the smiling face of her mother.
"She was lovely, wasn't she" said Ava. "I wonder what she would think of her daughter, now?"
"What do you mean?" said Emer, suddenly defensive.
Ava turned the page of the scrap book, and Emer looked into the eyes of her father.
"I mean" she continued after a time "What would your parents think of their only child, the daughter they loved so much, wasting the potential they saw in her, not ever finishing school, aimlessly wandering with no purpose or direction? You have not even been to visit their grave site since the day they went in it. Do you have such little respect for them?"
"It isn't that easy" said Emer, hanging her head, knowing what Ava said was true.
Turning the page, this time to reveal a picture of the whole family, taken long ago, Ava said "nothing good comes easy, my girl". Emer barely heard her, she was too caught up in the emotion of seeing the pictures of her then happy family. Silently, Ava turned the pages. Page, after page. Eventually, all the pictures were just of Emer, in all the places she'd been since her parents died, including Paris.
"I never posed for those" she said, shakily, when Ava was done.
"No, you didn't" agreed Ava. But I have them none the less. I've watched over you your whole life, Emer. Your parents were aware of it. They encouraged it. I know they would not be pleased with the fact that you quit college, and gave up your dreams. They were so proud of you."
"I know" answered Emer, upset. "But how do I do it without them?'
"You use the lessons they taught you and live the life you were supposed to" said Ava. You are at a crossroads. You may not continue on the way you were. Yet you are not the same girl as a few short years ago. There is a choice to be made, by you. At sundown tonight, I will either leave you back in Paris, where you will die inside of two weeks. Or I will leave you at home, where you can pick up the pieces of your tattered life and finally forge ahead. Or you can stay here, with me, and become, fully, one of us."
Standing up, Ava started to move away from the table, leaving Emer alone, with the scrap book. "You have until sundown".

Friday Mieography

I know a few little ballerina's, and the season for the Nutcracker will be soon among us, so I chose a dancer this week.
Meet Anna Pavlova. She was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, the daughter of a washerwoman, and questionable paternal parentage. Her mother did remarry, and she was adopted by her step father. Her mother ook her at a young age, to the Maryinsky Theater to see Sleeping Beauty danced, and after that she would have no other profession. Her mother asked her if she wanted to dance on the stage with them, and she answered "No I would rather be dancing there alone, like the sweet Princess". (Meaning, she wanted the lead role.)
Her mother took her at age eight to audition to be trained, and she was rejected because of her "sickly" appearance. She was a tall, leggy, girl, and ballerina's at that time were smaller, and more compact. She kept trying though, and at age 10 she was admitted to the ballet academy in St. Petersburg. At that time, entering an academy meant that you lived there, and they took on all the financial responsibilities for the child's upbringing.
It was difficult at first, she went through many painful, daily lessons, and pushed herself hard to learn everything in the academy. As her talent increased, her teachers noticed her more. Some took her under their wing, some did not like her, because her physique was so different from what was the norm of that ballet era. None the less, when she graduated, she was selected to join the Imperial Ballet at the Maryinsky Theater, and, she did not have to be in the 'corps de ballet' where everyone started, she was immediately given the title coryphee.In 1899 she made her debut, and by the season of 1905, she was a prima ballerina. She began. She began touring, at first in just Russia, then, eventually the rest of Europe, and Scandinavia. It was during this time that a famous solo was choreographed for her, "The Swan". It went on to become her signature dance. THe picture above is from that dance, the "dying swan" part... She eventually went on to dance in the United States as well.
She had a lover, by this time as well, and he was accused of embezzlement of government money. He escaped Russia to England and they settled permanently in London. She rented a house, and it was the base for her world tours. She made her own company, and traveled, doing almost 2 decades of uninterrupted touring. In 1931, near 50 years old, she was involved in a minor railway accident during her travels. She got out to inspect what was going on, in cold weather, and a few weeks later developed pneumonia, and died. As she died, she held her swan costume, and it is said her last words were "play the last measure softly". She was touring Holland at the time. As is tradition, when a ballerina dies, at her scheduled performance that night, everyone danced, and a single spotlight moved around the stage, where she would have been. She was cremated, and her urn is adorned with ballet slippers, and in London, at a cemetary near the home she'd owned since leaving Russia.

Thursday 13

I have a sculpture garden in my back yard.
Hiding, waaay back. In the corner by the fence.
And I did not truly find it until yesterday, chasing down the three madly barking dogs in the what seems to be never ending saga of dog vs neighbor.
But I digress.

Trees. Madrone trees. Beautiful Madrone trees. I love them. And they were hiding from me in the corner. To me, they are a sculpture of nature. So here, are 13 of the nearly 100 pictures I took of some of the Madrone I just discovered in my back corner sculpture garden....

















for more Thursday Thirteen, go here

Wordless Wednesday

Pick Flick!

So, today is election day.
I am sure most of you have noticed that I have stayed out of that topic entirely on my blog...
I have a reason for that.
It's not that I don't care about elections. I do. It took a long ass time for women to get the right to vote. And that is important to me.
But my politics, just like my religion, are my own. And I guess I feel kind of protective of them both.
I very rarely discuss either of them with anyone. I don't mind healthy discussion about politics, (or religion, for that matter) but in my experience, people quickly get into their own "red zones" when those topics are "discussed" and it causes bad feelings, and it alters the relationship of those involved in the "discussion".
So, I err on the side of caution, and I choose not to discuss either of them in so public a forum. I occasionally find someone who can keep their cool during such a discussion, face to face, and I enjoy it, completely. I frequently play devils advocate, just because I can. I find it stimulating to try and discuss something from the opposite angle of what I happen to believe. Keeps me on my feet.
So it's Election Day. Have a good one, everyone. Use your votes wisely, please.
Oh, and be very glad I deleted my long drawn out saga of a post I had originally written. I just can't go there right now. Things are fine. We are just having issues of dog vs neighbors, and it could end not so nicely...

Freaky! Scary! Eeeew!

We watch Heroes in our house.
Most people do. I think.
We are a few weeks behind, though, just catching up on things. Because we like to watch it together. We don't watch unless the others are with us. Call it a family bonding thing.
If you don't watch Heroes, you will be bored. Move along.
If you do watch it, but you are behind (like we are, or rather, were)
skip this post until you are caught up.

All caught up? Yes?
okay here is what's freaking me out.
The Puppet Master guy.
That is just disturbing. I would absolutely HATE for anyone to have that kind of power over me. Directing my every move with the wiggle of his fingers. To be able to make me do something not of my own free will. I'd be forced to do as he directed, even though my mind rebels against it. And nothing I could do or say would stop me from doing what he told me to do.
Talk about psychological torture.
Anyone confused? The situation here is that this guy has the power to control everyone around him. Their movements. Like he is their puppet on a string. Every. Little. Movement.
Torture, I say.

Short Story Saturday

Emer glanced around the classroom at all of her classmates, happily listening to their teacher reading "Green Eggs and Ham" out loud them. Personally, Emer was quite bored, as she had read that story, herself, at least five times. Truth be told, Emer thought most of kindergarten was a boring waste of time. But her parents insisted that she go.
Her green eyes wandered of their own volition towards the window. A brisk fall breeze was blowing, and she watched the red and yellow leaves dance through the air, spinning up, and away towards a destination only known to them. Emer couldn't help but wish she was blowing away with them. Sighing, she watched the happy dance of the leaves, until her teacher managed to finish the book, sending all the small children scurrying towards their seats. After an afternoon of cutting out shapes and pasting them onto brightly colored construction paper, the day was finally over and done with. She thought.
Putting her left handed scissors away carefully into her back pack, Emer waited patiently for her Mother, Eden, to come get her. All the other children had left, with either their parents, or for the bus, by the time Emer's mom came in the door.
"You wanted to see me, Ms. Johnstone?" Eden asked politely, after she gave Emer a warm hug, and a kiss. Emer was delighted to also receive the warm cookie that Eden pressed into her hand, wrapped in a napkin. Silently, she ate the cookie, while her mother spoke with the teacher. They had moved to the front of the room, and were talking too quietly for Emer to hear their words. She could see Mrs. Johnstone gesturing in an angry way towards her art work, (which she had chosen to do in black and white) and saw her mother shuffling through many of the papers and projects she recognized as her own. Tears, un-welcomed tears, came to her green eyes. She had tried to fit into this class, tried to make friends with these children, but they all sensed her different-ness, and as a result, they shunned her. Sniffing, she shrugged her shoulders and ate the last of her cookie. She had the love of her parents, and her special friend at home, an orange tabby named Lois, and that is all that mattered to her. She waited, patiently, until the adults were done talking. Her mother turned back towards her, a smile in her eyes, along with some irritation, and strode briskly towards her. "Gather all your belongings, Emer, for you will not be coming back" she instructed quietly, and firmly. In her hands, was each and every piece of art, and every written thing Emer had done during the last month, since kindergarten had started.
In truth, Eden was as angry as she had ever been in her life. That so called teacher had referred to her child as a freak of nature. She told Eden that Emer was not right, and she never would be, and that none of the other children liked her, or wanted to be near her. "She's an outcast" said the teacher, decidedly firm.
"What are you going to do about that?" Eden had asked her. Mrs. Johnstone, shocked, had managed a few guppy breaths in shock before she answered the question with one of her own. "Why should I be the one to do anything about it?"
It was at that moment that Eden made the decision to homeschool her child.
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As the years went by, Emer grew older, and prettier. Each year, her parents would send her to school, in hopes that this would be the year that the other kids would accept her for whom she was, and include her in their social lives. Each year, they were disappointed. When she was old enough to enter high school, Emer decided for herself that she was going to attend the local high school, despite her peers. Thankfully, there were some good teachers there whom were delighted to get their hands on an exceptionally smart child. She spent her time learning from them, and from her parents. She graduated early, in fact, and, at seventeen, was planning on leaving their small town as soon as she could for college.
Elsewhere in the universe, someone else was eagerly watching the maturation of Emer. Ava never had forgotten the child she delivered on that windy, rainy day. There had been something irresistible about her. Normal folk may not see it, but all the people Ava knew saw it, and were drawn to the girl. They took turns making routine visits to Emer's world, doing different things, like handiwork around the school, being the "plumber" to answer an emergency call, and one lucky one even got to be her sophomore homeroom teacher. She drew them to her like moths to a flame, yet she never knew of their existence.
Then she turned 19. And her birthday, which had started out so nicely, ended up being horrific. It was a rainy day, just like the day she'd been born on. Emer had been in college for a year at that point, and her parents were coming to surprise her for her birthday. Tragically, a drunk man had also taken that opportunity to get behind the wheel in search of his next bottle of Mad Dog 20-20. They never knew what hit them. Emer got that phone call from the University Hospital, they'd been less than five miles away from her. Her world plunged into black. She quit school, closed the family hardware store, and closed up the house. Taking the money they left her, she set off traveling, living everywhere, and no where at the same time. She barely spoke to anyone, hardly ever ate, subsisting on ice cream sandwiches and cups of chai tea when she needed to fill her stomach. She passed through places without really seeing them, starting with the United States, and eventually, moving on to Europe. When she was destitute, living in Paris, Ava finally decided to intervene.....