Suddenly everything turned dark. Night surrounded them as the train kept rolling down the track. It made Henry uneasy, but as he looked around young Purrlin was still shoveling coal into the firebox and Simmi had now crawled up on his lap for comfort!
Purrlin’s voice seemed clear above the noise of the train. Don’t let the dark night bother you. It only lasts for a short time and soon you will see the light again.”
Henry looked out the window at the full moon peaking above the clouds. He knew as long as the train stayed on the tracks he would be fine. The train’s black smoke billowed back across the engine, and blended into the night sky!
The dark got even darker as the train charged into the mountain tunnel.
At the far end, Henry saw the morning light welcoming him.
Henry took and deep breath and looked into the green aura behind the burning red flame of the candle. Simmi rubbed around his ankles purring. His mind was a little fuzzy now, and seemed to be floating in another dimension. In the background he could hear Purrlin’s calm voice.
“Let your self go boy. Your dream is waiting to be fulfilled!”
Everything faded in a blanket of fog. The green aura of the candle became the green fields on both sides of him as he found himself in the engineer’s seat of a puffing locomotive. Across from him was a young man who looked very much like Purrlin. And there was Simmi the cat curled up at his feet.
Amazing, thought Henry to himself, as he reached up and pulled the rope that brought a shrill whistle piercing the clear mountain air.
Today we took our first excursion since before Covid 19 started. We met with our old friends at Lake Norman NC. It was a wonderful day of connection. The house where they were staying this week was surrounded by beautiful Azaleas and Dogwoods in full bloom. It was a gorgeous time to be there. I am pausing my story chapters to share some of the beautiful flowers with you. Hope you enjoy them as much as we did.
Henry only paused a few seconds. When he heard the voice saying, “If you are a dreamer, come in.” he could not resist. He always had a vivid imagination and loved the mystery of ‘what comes next?’ in the books he devoured.
As Henry stepped from the bright stoop into the dark hallway, it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. “Come in my child, it has been such a long time since I had visitors other than Simmi! As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a stooped old man holding Simmi on his lap. There was nothing fearful about him as Henry anticipated.
“My name is Purrlin. I can make dreams come true. Do sit down and tell me your dreams.”
Henry moved to the rickety old chair by the table. Should he tell the old man about his dream?
Painting: Dwight L. Roth
D’Verse Prosery prompt: “If you are a dreamer, come in” from Shel Silverstein’s poem Invitation…
Henry followed the big yellow cat down the block, wishing to pick her up and hear her purr. He continued across the street to the next block. She showed up before on the door step of his old brownstone buildings.
His mother told him not to wander off, but the cat seemed to want him to follow. Henry’s mother’s words faded away. He would only go a block or two.
The cat paused in front of a long winding stair case, then scampered up and through a large open door at the top. Henry thought perhaps he could meet the cat’s owner, so he slowly climbed to the top. As he peered into the dark opening, Henry heard an old man’s voice, “If you are a dreamer, come in my child.” He froze, uncertain whether to go in or run back down the steps.
Painting: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Lillian is challenging us with a prosery prompt. Prosery is a flash fiction piece, of exactly 144 words, that includes a line from a poem given by the host. The line is from Shel Silverstein’s poem, Invitation, as published in his wonderful book, Where the Sidewalk Ends. The line is, “If you are a dreamer, come in“.
Do you recognize this bridge? A few years ago while I was working at the Habitat Restore, we got an old wooden desk donated. While cleaning it up for resale, I found the small 3 x 3 black and white photo above in one of the drawers. It appeared to be an old post WWII era photo of a bridge, and on the back it said Savan River Bridge. I was intrigued by the picture and did some research, but came up with nothing with that name.
I though it looked like a bridge that could have been in Paris so I started looking at bridge images on line and found that it is the Ponte Alexander iii bridge. It was named in honor of a Russian Czar. You can read about it at this web site: Pont Alexandre III – Wikipedia
I decided to paint the bridge and this is how it came out: It is 3′ x 4′
When my grandchildren outgrew their toybox a few years ago, I decided to use it as a compost bin. I put it below my garden at the edge of the tree line. It gets filled with all my trimmings, grass clippings, household garbage, and any other natural vegetation. I fill it a few times over the year. Each time it rots and composts down. All that garbage condensed into a half of a bin full of rich compost.
Today, when I dug into it, it was well rotted and full of tiny earth worms. I put part of it on my grape vines and saved the rest for my tomatoes I am going to plant. Black Gold, wonderful stuff to build good rich soil.
Today at d’Verse, Grace asked us to write a poem personifying a body part. I chose to write about my hand that seems to be developing carpal tunnel syndrome. My fingers get numb and sometimes I wake up in the night with my hand feeling like it is on fire. I have cut back on my typing, switched to my left hand for the mouse, got a wrist brace, and do some exercises to stretch out the tendons. It is much better that it was a couple of months ago.
Today I am trying the Shadorma form for my poetry for the first time. I hope I got it right!