Once upon a time of loveliness, in the days when even the magic mirrors couldn't agree who was fairest, there lived three little sisters. The first little sister built herself a house of hanging silks, which did not go unnoticed by the Wind. The curtains billowed boisterously in his breath, awarding that airy observer tasty glimpses of intimate skin. Finally the Wind huffed and puffed so out of control that the silks fluttered away towards the Sun. As the girl perceived the lack of walls she bolted shivering to her sister who lived in a house of matchsticks, tiny wooden bundles woven together, phosphorous tips lending a ruddy red appearance to the walls and roof.
The Sun, brushing the silks from his face, caught with his last rays the two sisters hugging hello. The sibling beauties chatted deep into the night, until their eyes grew weary and the soft fabric of the satin sheets beaconed them to sprawl in the bed. The next morning the Sun awoke after a night of fiery dreams. Especially attracted to the sight of sisters in satin, he peered down intensely at the hut, trying to see through the window. Poof! The entire house combusted into a big smoky cloud drifting away in the Wind. There the two sisters stood, all alone, huge sunny eye on them. At least they weren't shivering. But the sudden attention brought forth beads of nervous perspiration, which the Wind licked from their faces. The two little sisters had a third sister who lived in a plastic house on the edge of the forest, and there they fled, Sun and Wind at their backs.
In the forest resided a Big Bad Voyeur, who hid in treetops, spying with his binoculars on whatever sights as might delight him. The girls put on the radio and danced unknowingly for him, giving him ideas for the night. He plucked a basket of apples from the tree in which he hid, prepared them with a sleeping substance, then wandered over to the hut, to offer his present of welcome to his lovely new neighbors. -- "No! I can't read this to you children," the swine mother grunted to her set of pink triplets. These fairy tales about people are always so depraved.
Story #305
Stories have been reposted at indeterminacies.blogspot.com.
8 comments:
Well, I have my story written. I hope someone else thinks of something, too ;-)
It was Mormon Day at Disneyland. The rides and lines for rides filled with polite people evangelizing each other. Jenna and her two friends had heard the good news so often it put them in bad moods.
That was when Karly, the Bishop's daughter remembered the hip flask in her car. "Wait here," she instructed Jenna and Susan who did so. Karly went to the parking lot, on a mission for contraband.
On her way back in, she was spotted by an alert Sleepy. On his in-mask radio, he called for backup and soon, unbeknownst to Karly, she was being watched by all the cartoon characters and several Mormons. Snow White, Pluto and two elders followed her at a distance.
Karly found her friends and the three of them went over behind the Thunder Mountain Express, believing themselves unobserved. The moment Karly opened the hipflask, servants of the lord and figments of imagination descended in droves upon them.
They were taken to the Disneyland jail to await trial and the contacting of their parents. The march to the jailhouse was shameful as Daffy Duck lead a detachment of all seven dwarves and four bicycle-riding missionaries formed a pattern around them, blocking any deviation of course and singing "Hi-ho, Hi-ho it's off to jail we go, to save their souls and Mickey's hole, Hi-ho, hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho!"
Once incarcerated, Jenna, Karly and Susan were asked to pose for a group mug shot.
Based on a true story
Doug: Has Bar of Soap been getting into you? Anyhow, great story and thanks for your simultaneous adherence tp my request to post something. Looks like you're in tune with synchronicity.
It's only right to be.
Thanks Actionbell! I think Doug and I had slightly related ideas: Disney / fairy tale.
Great ending, Indie. Did the voyeur have a tagline? I'm thinking instead of "fee fie foe fum," maybe "found photo?"
Fun story. Thanks for the reference to the e-zine. I'd have to know more about the case to make an informed decision, though it does sound as though it could have been an honest mistake.
I remember Jake York, the poetry ed. at Story South, by reputation from my early days at Auburn. It was cool to see his name, and I will tell Dr. Weirsdo, who knew him better.
Post a Comment