Bedtime Stories: Pirates


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Mom, he won’t leave us alone!

What’s he doing?

He’s messing with our boat!

The swing boat? I see.

We told him to stop, but he won’t listen.

Oh no…sounds like you have a pirate problem.

Will you tell him to stop?

I need a little more information first. Does he have both legs?

Duh! Mommmm…

Is he wearing an eye patch?

Mom stop, he isn’t a pirate.

Well then, I’ll just let you two sort it out.

Okay, okay, he’s a pirate, will you tell him to stop?

Sure,
but…
uh oh,
this might be a problem…

What? What now?

Pirates don’t listen to their mommies.

Bedtime story: cooties


Once upon a time there was a girl. This girl was lonely, but one day she discovered a hidden world in her backyard.

Inside this world were all sorts of insects, who weren’t really bugs in her mind.

One of them was a roly-poly. Cute, and fun to watch and play with. It was one of the first bugs she really liked.

She also found a grasshopper. At first she didn’t know what to think of it because it jumped right in her face and startled her. Then it hopped around in so many different directions that it was hard to keep up with, but as she followed along, she began to see the beauty in its wings, and the excitement in its life.

She made wonderful friends with a caterpillar that was beautiful, and interesting and would kind of tickle as it climbed on her finger.

Even the spiders enchanted her with their intricate webs and amazing abilities.

Butterflies came through at times and their presence brightened her day although sometimes she wished they had stayed longer.

The backyard became a place she clung to, a place she went when happy, or sad, or anything. She loved it. It was where she felt she could truly be herself.

One day the girl got sick and wasn’t allowed to go out and play. It was a difficult illness and even as she began to heal, she didn’t have the same desire to go to the backyard as she had before.

In her absence, some of the insects died, some had moved on, after all, they were just bugs, and she, just a girl.

When she finally did feel up to going out and playing in the backyard, she couldn’t find all the bugs she had before, but some were still there. She remembered and had missed them, and believe it or not, they had remembered and missed her.

Turns out friends don’t have to look like you or live where you live, or even keep in constant contact. Friends just have to care. Caring can soften even the hardest hearts.

Bedtime Stories: Double


Double, double, toil and trouble.

The steady surface hides a bubble.

One part works, the other plays.

One part runs, the other stays.

Part depressed, part amused,

Everyone remains confused.

How can two exist in one?

How can darkness hide the sun?

What the hell is wrong with me?

Chains of anger bind the free.

Ok, that’s fine. The way it goes.

It’s better mainly one side shows.

No one could understand what’s real,

Both parts make up the way I feel.

Show the pain, the somber side.

Easier the “good” to hide.

Keeping expectations low.

For days when there’s no joy to show.

But every now and then, I see

The part I wish was more of me.

The loving, happy, carefree part.

Deep within the icy heart.

If I can somehow find a way

To make that part grow and stay.

Then maybe in that burst of fun

The two would finally become one.

To write…


I’ve got to say it. I’m a little stressed. Writing is my passion. It’s the one thing I have a little confidence in. When I write I can easily get lost in the story, but I’m having a hard time focusing at the moment.

Part of the problem is that I’m not really writing, just formatting the OAA stuff. There are so many submission guidelines and requirements. Since that is actually a drama production, I have to re-write the majority of it in script format. I can copy and paste each character’s dialogue, but that takes about as long as rewriting it for most of the lines.

Eventually I will write my grand book idea, but I have a lot of content here that I should already be able to do something with first. Some of you have self-published a book in eBook format, and I think that is great. I may eventually do that too, but am I over reaching to want a hard copy publisher?

When did it become more about the name, marketing, etc. and less about the actual content of your piece? Anyway, I’ll keep writing. I can’t really help it, but one day I hope something more comes of it. Until then, I hope some of my writing matters to some of you.