Thursday, December 31, 2015

Wizard Dreams

Once there was a wizard, he was quite a good wizard amongst the magical wizard community and had a pretty good job up at the castle as the King’s Wizard’s second apprentice.

Yet, each night after he was done with his spells and incantations for the day, he would return to his chambers in the south tower, and he would look out the arched window, up at the stars and long for a different life.

He had been chosen to be a wizard when he was a young boy, being the seventh son of a seventh son, and even though he did enjoy conjuring and creating potions for the royal family’s various needs and wants, it was not what he wanted his life to be, it was just the life that had been set out for him.

So those nights alone in his bed, he would dream of a life he would have given anything to have.

For, more than anything, he wanted to be a Wizard of Rock.

Drifting off to sleep with a smile, the young wizard was happy in his dreamlife of throngs of fans cheering his name as he travelled the land bring happiness with his music. His head filled with images of himself playing to teems of rabid fans, all screaming and clamoring to try and get up on a light and smoked filled stage with him as he wailed on his electric lute.

Though, upon waking, he would remember he was just a simple wizard, and would get up to go about his daily duties; leaving his chambers behind, as well as the half-finished wooden lute, hidden sheepishly in the far corner.

Monday, December 28, 2015

Rational Thinking

You always took me for granted,
You never set me apart. 
Always keeping at arms length,
The feelings inside your heart. 

I know you think that i'm foolish,
That my emotions get the best of me. 
But darling love's not a logical thing,
Let me show you & this time you'll see. 

Leave out your rational thinking,
Please wont you take it away. 
Just come on over, let me love you again,
And this time maybe you'll stay. 

I try so hard to act like you do,
Mask my feelings; hide them deep down inside. 
But I can't keep going on pretending. 
I need what only your love can provide. 

You say I'm always on full steam,
That I need to slow down & just breathe. 
But baby it's never been that easy,
Inside my love for you does roil & seethe. 


Baby, this time just stay. 

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Christmas Carol

Oh, Carol, how I wish you were here with me now. I have been good all year and now I am missing you; wishing you were here with me on this lonely Christmas night.

I think of the times we had and the love that we shared and I want you to come back to me; come back to me now, so I can make it right.

Oh, Carol, how I wish I could take all that I said and all that I did. If you came back to me now you would see, I really have been good ever since you went away. For now I only sit and look out the window, waiting for your return, but there is only the wind blowing cold outside in the dark, wintery night.

It was a night just like tonight that you took your leave, and I hope that now, perhaps you will finally come back to me, tonight of all nights. But lo and behold, what is this I see in the distance now; a slender, spectral figure, clad all in white.

Is it you who I see? Is it you who has come back to me? I knew you could not be held, deep down in the frozen, earthly soil of your shallow grave. I knew you would come back to me, oh Carol, are you not the most wonderful sight!

But why do you seem so full of anger and rage, my love? You cannot still be mad at me. After all, I did bring you back. I know I was the one, who put you in that hole in the ground, but I have been so good and spoke the spells and incantations correctly; I preformed the rituals right.

Oh, Carol, I have brought you back to me, granted, with the same black magic that I used to murder you the year before, but that was so long ago. Can you not forgive me? Please, my love, why put your cold, dead hands around my throat? Please, Carol, oh please, what will the neighbours think, when they find my body throttled by a ghost? They will certainly die of fright.

Sunday, December 13, 2015

The Sad Rocket Ship

Once there was a sad rocket ship. It was sad because long ago, after so many outer space adventures, its astronaut had grown too old for the rigors of interplanetary travel and came to settle on the lonely planet on which the rocket ship now sat.

The ship spent its days out in the landing field, remembering all the strange and exotic places it and the old astronaut had been to. They would blast off to a distant galaxy to watch its sun go supernova, and then jet over to black hole and jettison space junk into its gravitational field to see each object get crushed further down into the singularity and disappear into the void.

Navigating through vast asteroid fields had been its favourite thing to do as they flew through space together, both astronaut and ship skilfully working together to avoid being smashed to bits. It was that kind of terrifying exhilaration that the ship grew to crave and love.

Yet now, gathering dust in a yellow-grass field, it stood alone, growing sadder with each passing day, while the old astronaut tinkered away in his work shred, rarely even paying the ship any attention, much less coming out for a visit.

Until the day came when the astronaut's hover bed brought the frail old man out to the rocket ship's grown-over landing pad, a metallic box in tow behind him.

He feebly reached out to touch the ship's directional manifold lovingly, and apologized for not being able to continue on their adventures together. The ship's broke for the dying man and all the years of resentment faded away as he passed peacefully away after whispering something about how he hoped his gift would make up for everything.

The ship stood stoically as the morning suns raised in the green sky, now completely alone on the small planet, and did not notice as the strange, metal create the old astronaut had brought with him started to beep as if counting down to something.

At the apex of the rapid beeping the box then opened with a hydraulic hiss and out popped a small, humanoid robot, which then clambered out to stand on the ground, seemingly testing out its balance and footing for the first time.

It looked at the old man lying peacefully on the hover bed and touched his arm gently, as if saying thank you and then looked up at the rocket ship.

The ship regarded the odd little robot as it stood looking up at it, and then it noticed the writing on the chest plate of the droid, which read, 'Astrodroid 1'.

Astrodroid 1 pressed a few buttons on the hover bed and it started to float its way back to the small dome-home of the astronaut to begin its funeral subroutine, while the robot then grabbed a pack from its box and knocked on the ship's landing fin to open the gangway ramp.

Startled, the ship took a moment to realize what was happening, but then opened the ramp to let the robot board. After a few minutes of clanks and creaks the robot entered the cockpit and began making the ship ready for launch.

Confused, the ship could only respond automatically to the commands Astrodroid 1 punched into its navigation and engine controls before the realization of what the old astronaut's gift really was dawn on it.

He had created a new pilot for the rocket ship, one that would never grow old, and never tire of exploring the vastness of the universe with it.

With that long absent feeling of terrified exhilaration filling all of its modules and compartments once more, the ship's engines roared to life and they blasted off into the stars; leaving behind the slowly burning dome of the astronaut's final resting place, for new worlds and new adventures, robot and ship, rocketing through space, together forever.

And the sad rocket ship was never happier.

Sunday, December 6, 2015


Far out in the middle of the sea, there is a small, tree-filled island, and in amongst the woods the island there is a small, dark cave.

Inside the darkness of the cave there lives one of the most insidious of creatures has ever been.

No one has ever been to this island in the sea, or even knows that it is there, yet they have all seen the creature that resides within the depths its cavern, though they may not have been aware.

For each day before the dawn sun rises, it slinks its way out of the dark, hovel hole and spreads its evil across the world.

Though you may not recognize it, you too have encountered the foul fiend, perhaps even today.

For it can disguise itself cleverly; it can become whatever it needs to be, to carry out its dastardly scheme.

It could have been the one who secretly turned off your alarm clock late last night, causing you to be tardy for work once again.

It could have taken the shape of the sweet little old woman who snuck into line in front of you, only to insist on paying her bill with all the change at the bottom of her enormous handbag.

Or perhaps it took the more sinister form of that irritable barista at you local coffee cafe, who purposefully took your ritual order wrong, only you realized it after you had gone.

Maybe even the most malevolent manifestation of all, that group of tourists that stopped at the top of the escalator to plan out their day, while the gangs of commuters piled up behind you, jostling into you and making you spill your incorrectly-made morning brew all over the front of your newly bought shirt.

All these shapes and forms to attain its purpose, its main goal; to impede you, to cause you delay, to make you feel like you are having the very worst day.

Each day it accomplishes this, it returns once again to its lonely island cave, to laugh to itself in the darkness and gloom; to giggle itself to sleep, to awaken once more, to try and ruin your day.

Yet, there is a way to fight this most terrible of monsters, to not let it have its own way; simply do not let it get to you. Just smile, and say, 'Have a nice day!'

Just breathe and be kind, despite what others do or say.

If only everyone would do this, the creature would be vanquished, its reign of terror at an end.

But until then, it sits and smiles maliciously, from out of the shadows of its cave, deep within the small forest island, far out in the middle of the sea.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Tiny Bear

Once there was a tiny bear that lived in the forest. Abandoned by his fellow bears because of his small stature, he roamed the towering trees of wood alone, searching for a purpose to his teeny, tiny life.

One day, while he was trying to catch giant salmon in the rushing stream, the tiny bear caught the scent of a camp fire cooking something that smelled delicious, so he let his nose lead him toward a campsite where a family of humans were preparing their mid-day meal.

Easily hiding behind an old stump, the tiny bear looked on as the family of campers bustled around the site; everyone doing their part to get the meal ready, except for two of the young boys who were off to the side of their shelter dome, playing.

Although, when the tiny bear looked closer, he could see they were playing, but larger boy was controlling the smaller one's own arms, making the younger boy hit himself with his own hands, and it seemed the smaller boy was helpless to struggle against it.

This filled the tiny bear with anger, for it reminded him of when his bigger, stronger siblings used to push and paw him around just because he was so much smaller than them. So, he growled his small, but deep growl and barrelled his way across the campsite toward the two human children and leapt into the air, somersaulting into a ball to hit squarely into the middle of the older boy's back.

The boy cried out in surprise and tumbled forward, letting go of his brother as he sprawled out on the damp ground. Bouncing back up on all fours, the tiny bear growled at the downed boy as he stood between him and the smaller brother, who now stood dumbfounded at the sight of the little black bear.

With startled yelp, the older boy jumped to his feet and ran crying to his mother who was checking on the simmering pot over the fire.

The bully defeated, the tiny bear turned to the other boy, who still stood twice the bear's height, and sniffed at him with a friendly air. The boy kneeled cautiously down and held out his hand so the tiny bear pushed his head underneath it, allowing the boy to pet him.

Clearly this boy was in need of protection, and what better protection was there than that of a portable wild bear by your side?

After some begging and promising to take care of him, the boy's family said it was alright to keep the tiny bear and they took him with them when they left.

From then on, the two were inseparable, boy and bear, and there was no challenge or bully too great for them to overcome.

Finally, the tiny bear had found his purpose and as the young boy grew into a man, the tiny bear stayed with him.
Until the day the tiny old bear had grown frail and tired, and passed away in his friend's arms as he wept for his small, loyal companion.

Not wanting to be without his tiny bear comrade, the young man had him stuffed and treated so that when the time came, he could pass him along to his own son, to be the child's protector.

Thus is the tale of the first stuffed toy bear.