September 17, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story of mice. It can feature any variety of the little critters in any situation. Are the the character or the inciting incident? Use any genre, including BOTS (based on a true story).
Milo, a little grey mouse With the heart of a giant He could stare down the largest cat And get away unscathed he would be sent out For the most timid of his clan His days were long and slow He wanted more. Dressed in his best suit Knapsack on his back He was off to the cries of “Don’t go Who will hunt for us, we’ll starve!” “I will teach Jacko before I go I must seek my fortune. If Mickey can make it big In Hollywood, Then so can I I will take Hollywood by storm someday…”
This prompt reminds me of the tall tales I used to tell my children when they were young Like, I never mind the rain, as I don’t get wet, because I can walk between the raindrops. Now I imagine walking under the bridge of water Just as they turned the power off The downpour of downpours Would hit me on the head Like divine retribution For the tall tales I told…
I looked up at him, my cup of tea on its way to my lips, wondering why he bothered with his objections. “What stuff are you referring to?”
“Tea… filthy stuff, it’s got more caffeine in it than coffee. Can’t be good for you…”
I wanted to ignore him, refuse to become involved in yet another tedious argument, but found myself speaking. “I read somewhere that tea is good for your heart and your blood pressure. Which is more than can be said about the muck you drink!”
He snorted like a pig. “That’s a load of rubbish! Has to be, it’s just a load of old leaves…”
“Very special leaves that come from the Camelia shrub. Did you know it was once so expensive it was kept in locked boxes?”
“Best place for it, if you ask me…” He reached for the tv remote. I had him on the run.
“They have been drinking tea for 2000 years in China, and then there’s the Japanese tea ceremonies…”
“Still no reason for you to be guzzling it, though…”
As I stared at him, he looked at me, with what I thought was a flicker of defiance in his eyes. Oh no you don’t, I thought. “If you want any supper tonight, you’ll be a dear and go and put the kettle on… and don’t forget to put the milk in first. Just the way I like it…”
( For visually challenged reader, the picture shows a tree with human face, eyes open wide and an open mouth, either in smile or scream)
Due to the shortage of hugs around here these days, it suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t even have a tree that I could hug.
There is an old crabapple tree at the bottom of the garden, but it has long been dead, although it is covered by a thick growth of ivy it doesn’t really encourage any hugging, as it has to be swarming with insect life.
Several gardens near me have large trees but I can hardly invite myself into their gardens, not with a lockdown in operation.
That was when I found myself looking at the rather large gum tree in the next-door garden and knew that the new people hadn’t moved in yet!
Desperate for a hug, I sneaked through the gap in the overgrown hedge and approached the tree. It sounds strange but I swear it was waiting for me!
My arms didn’t reach all the way around the dappled bark of the trunk and it felt strangely warm to the touch. I laid my face on the smooth surface of the tree and gave it the best hug.
I was smiling as I made my way back to my own garden, and I knew the smile had come from the tree…