Tuesday, April 30, 2013


     Today's post is about a fun thing I took part in a few years ago -- Thrill The World.
     I had fun going to the (FREE!) lessons to learn Michael Jackson's Thriller Dance. You can learn them online from videos at different speeds, & you can order a DVD, or find a class near you. It was a free exercise class and camaraderie of interesting people. You can search You Tube for instructions & to see posted videos of groups doing the dance as well.
     On Saturday, October 26 of this year, all over the world groups of fun-minded people will join in the dance, all at the same time (times adjusted for each timezone) to try and set a new world record.
     Check out the website for a class & event near you.
     Maybe you will find yourself in zombie threads this year!
     My feet still want to start moving whenever I hear Thriller start up. It always makes me smile. I am sure everyone that ever took place in this feels the same way. Maybe they will come up with a syndrome for all us Thriller dancers!
     Just remember at the end of the dance to HOLD THAT POSE until Vincent Price stops laughing!

Monday, April 29, 2013


     The dreaded understory of gardening: cleaning the yard up after Winter's tantrums & maintenance. Cleaning up the fallen branches, regularly watering the precious seeds & plants -- i hate watering! It's really a hassle when the grass grows too. Eventually we will replace it with ground cover plants.
     As for weeds, hey, I live in the country. If it flowers, it is ok with me! As the saying goes, "all my weeds are wildflowers."
     I totally decimated the woodpile, winter wimp that I am. So, somehow, we have to get it re-stocked.
     Anyone have any extra garden gnomes around?

Saturday, April 27, 2013


     Ok, so I might sound like a geek, but I liked the movie Xanadu with Olivia Newton-John. In this movie, she portrays a rollerskating Muse linking up a past recipient with a present recipient to create a strange schizophrenic nightclub.
     I always wished I could skate like that, with such skill & joy. Oh, believe me, I tried. I had both regular skates & rollerblades. I used to alternate them as I found they worked different muscles.
     But I was slow, and in the end it all came down to the fact that I was afraid to fall.
     So I'll keep enjoying Xanadu, and skate along in my mind.

Friday, April 26, 2013


                         This is a one-act play I wrote.

                                 WOLFINGTON ARMS

     *Desk clerk/Manager

A high class hotel in a dark part of town. Luxurious & elegant. Bellhop is reading a newspaper, as the Manager straightens things behind the desk.

          BELLHOP: "Full moon tonight."
          MANAGER: "Are the rooms ready?"
          BELLHOP: "As well as the cellar."
          MANAGER: "Good."

They continue in silence. The door opend with a "ding" & a very well dressed businessman comes in, carrying a briefcase. They both snap to attention as he comes over to the desk.

          MANAGER: "Good evening, Sir. How may we help     
          CUSTOMER: "I'd like a room for the night, please."
          MANAGER: "First class or Subterranean?"
          CUSTOMER: "First class."
          MANAGER: "Very well. Please sign the register."

The customer signs the register with an expensive pen from his breast pocket. He opens a wallet stuffed with credit cards & pulls out some large bills.

          CUSTOMER: "I trust this will be sufficient?"
          MANAGER: "Quite.. (looking at register) ...Mr., ah,
The Manager snaps his fingers & the bellhop presents himself to the customer.

          BELLHOP: "May I carry your briefcase, Mr. Wolf?"

The customer hands over his briefcase.

          BELLHOP: "Follow me, Sir."

The Bellhop taps the walls as he passes.

          BELLHOP: "Soundproof."

The Customer follows the Bellhop as he unlocks a door to a heavily padded room with chains on the wall. With great dignity & nonchalance, the Customer removes his clothes until he is standing in his underwear. He folds them neatly & places them on a chair.
The Bellhop stands waiting with the chains.

          BELLHOP: "Your arms, Sir..."

Customer allows himself to be chained to the wall.

          BELLHOP: "Will you be requiring anything else, Sir?"
          CUSTOMER: "No thank you."
          BELLHOP: "Very well, Sir. Thank you for choosing the
          Wolfington Arms for your shapeshifting needs. We
          hope you enjoy your stay."

Bellhop walks out & locks door. Customer waits patiently for full moon to rise.
                    THE END

Thursday, April 25, 2013


Here is a little one-act play I wrote. 

          Vampire 1
          Vampire 2
          Vampire 3
          Wanna-be Girl

Setting: Gothic room, dark & heavy atmosphere, candles everywhere. Characters dressed as gothic Vampires.
Characters enter room, Wanna-be trailing. Lead Vampire holding paper application. The Girl is excited, the Vampires are silent.

     GIRL: "Hey, I wanna thank you all for accepting my 
     application. I think it's cool that you advertise online for
     new clan members. (LOOKS AROUND) Hey, where's the
     rest of you? Will I get to meet them after the interview?
     How many are there?"
     "I am like so into the whole vampire thing, it really turns
     me on. And, like, I love the night, it's so mysterious, and

VAMPIRE 1 beckons GIRL to sit in chair. The vampires lounge around. 

     VAMPIRE 1: "And did you tell anyone where you were
     going? We do have to maintain our privacy, you
     GIRL: "Oh sure! I understand! No, I didn't tell anyone. I
     don't have any friends anyway, I mean, this podunk town I
     come from? It's like so... colonial or something. The people
     there are just like too normal, you know? No, I just
     sneaked out after my parents were asleep and got on the
     bus. It was real easy, just like you said. But what a trip! I
     swear I never want to travel by bus for any distance again.
     I'm stiff and sore all over!"

VAMPIRES come closer, stroking her hair & skin, restless, circling...

     VAMPIRE 2: "And you haven't contacted anyone since you
     GIRL: "Nope, just like you asked." (VAMPS EXCHANGE
     GLANCES.) "I want to prove my worthiness to you. I've
     made my life's decision, left it all behind. There's no one
     I'll miss anyway, except maybe my little sister. She's
     alright sometimes. But mostly she's like a real pain, ya
     "Yeah, I'm sure about this. I really want this. So how does
     this go, huh? Do we all live together? Do we sleep in
     coffins? That would be so cool. Is the rest of the house all
     decorated like this?" (LOOKS AROUND).  "You really set
     the atmosphere, this is awesome. Do you really drink
     blood? Where do you get it?"

VAMPS still stroking , bending closer. GIRL shifts nervously.

     GIRL: "So am I accepted or what? When will I find out? I
     mean, I don't have anyplace to stay or anything..."
     VAMPIRE 3: "And what is your bloodtype, child?"
     GIRL: "Uh, I don't know. Does it matter?"

VAMPIRE 1 stands behind GIRL, pulls out small dagger.

     VAMPIRE 1: "Blood always matters, little one. Our website
     may have been a little... misleading. You see... We're
     accepting applications for..." (BENDS DOWN AND
     LOWERS VOICE) "...blood donors."

VAMPIRE 1 neatly cuts GIRL's throat before she can react. We see the surprise on her face.
The other VAMPIRES take out their own small daggers and slice a wrist each. All 3 bend to drink.

     VAMPIRE 2: "Mmm. Hot and salty, just the way I like it."
     (LICKS LIPS). "O Positive, do you think?"
     VAMPIRE 3: "Definately O Positive."

They feed. Fade to black.
          THE END.
--by Shayla Kwiatkowski


Wednesday, April 24, 2013


another little ditty...

                    UNDER THE SEA
Under the sea
Far away and long ago
A little girl lived
My mother told me so

She was but a child
On that very fateful day
The sea was quite wild
When she went out to play

She fell into a spiral
And spit upon a shore
She didn't think it real
It wasn't her home any more

A little girl giggled
And asked her to play
She whiled away the time
But was not asked to stay

She was sent back alone
To try and find her beach
And soon enough her home
Was back within her reach

But she never forgot
The new friend that she met
She thinks of it alot
The place where all was wet.
     --Shayla kwiatkowski, 2013

Tuesday, April 23, 2013


   Today we have the letter "T", so I will offer my short story TRADEWINDS for free starting today April 23 until April 27.
   It is a story about a boy who moves to Florida from Wisconsin, and how he learns to love his new home and nature with the help of an old man.

Monday, April 22, 2013


     In the religion that is Stevie Nicks, we are Sisters of the Moon. We connect in the deepest levels of our psyches -- the place that no one else understands.
     In the day, we may blend into the general population. We may not drip in layers of chiffon or goldust, but there are Black Moons in our eyes.
     In the Midnight, when we light our candles & wear our shawls, we know who we are.
     It is the essence of Femininity that we reserve for ourselves against a male-dominated world -- buried deep to protect ourselves in the feminist revolution of life. It is the part of us that has suffered, and the part of us that has loved.
     Everyone has that friend. We may lose touch, disconnect, reconnect, follow our very favorite stars, dance around like a gypsy, wander around like a nomad -- but we still feel the other's presence when we look at the twinkling, laughing stars --
     And we connect in the strands of the Midnight Wind, we keep our candles bright for each other, we Sisters of the Moon.

Saturday, April 20, 2013


Yeah, alright, so I am pushing it, but I filed this under "R" for "RELATIONSHIP." Well, it's MY filing system! :)

                    DEATH'S GIRLFRIEND

     Death was heartbroken. His girlfriend had died. He rode hell-bent for leather to collect her. After all, it was his job.
     When he arrived at her home, where he had spent many happy evenings, he found her sitting outside of her body.
     "What's up with this?" he asked. "Why didn't you wait for me?"
     "I remembered what you said, D, and I just stepped outside my body." She looked at him coquettishly. "Now, I can be your partner."
     "Uh, no, darling," he replied gently. "You would go mad. You're only human."
     "I'm not passing on, and that's that."
     Death sighed deeply. She had no clue that her form would mirror the decay of her body in the grave. But he knew when he was beaten.
     "Well, c'mon," he said. "I have work to do."
     They drove through the nights, in a horse-drawn cart, collecting the souls of the recently departed. Death's girlfriend refused to rest in the back with the others, though she admitted she was getting tired.
     Time went on. Death didn't have the heart to tell his beloved that her appearance was not as she remembered. Kindly he awaited her acceptance. Kindly he treated her. As much as he loved her, he was committed to delivering her to the final destination.
     When she was ready, that is.
     There were many "last things" she wanted to do. Politely, he escorted her to all the places of her fancy. But she was dead and could not connect to the living energies around her. She became bored. She became cranky. In the end, she just became tired.
     One night they were walking along their favorite beach during a full moon. Death's girlfriend gave a great sigh at the beauty of the night. Finally, turning to him, she told him she was ready to pass on. Death was relieved.
     They journeyed to the River Styx, where he assisted his lady onto his friend Charon's boat for her last journey. Charon's eyes widened as he watched the last tender exchange between the lovers. He couldn't understand the attraction Death had for the rotting corpse he assisted into the boat. He accepted gratefully the silver coins pressed into his hand, and poled away from the bank. Charon shook his head.
     Beauty really was in the eye of the Beholder.
          THE END.
--by Shayla Kwiatkowski

Friday, April 19, 2013


This is my QUEEN, Greta. She was a feral kitten given to me by a co-worker. She came from a feral colony that was mixed Siamese and greys. She is very Siamese, cream-colored with smoky grey points- and big beautiful blue eyes. She had one litter, my daughter's grey was the father. Here is a picture of the litter of 4 when they were down for a baby nap:
 (Adore them!)
I kept 2 males, Tallulah & Hezekiah. (My daughter kept the other 2).
(Hezekiah & Tallulah as babies.)
(Hezzie grown, guarding my bedroom, the desk to left where I am sitting right now writing this. *waves*)
And this is just a little ditty I had originally written for this post...

If I were a Queen
Even for a day
I don't suppose that I
Would know what to say

To have so many people
At my every beck and call
Would I forget how to manage
Could I handle it at all?

I suppose I know the truth
I'm already Queen of Me
Monarchy lives with their strange rules
And I live in the land of the free.
     -- Shayla Kwiatkowski, 2013

Thursday, April 18, 2013


     Yup, Spring Fever has hit me full force. I have been going thru all my seeds & planting everywhere that I can. In all the pots around the yard. The Herb Garden, my Secret Garden, the Sanctuary, all the little greenhouses, and all over the yard. I even have plans to plant all down thru the woods. I have ordered nut trees for our rambunctious squirrels, and will have berry bushes for the birds.
     But you know, Spring Fever starts with Planting the seeds. I sure hope they all come up. I can't help it, I love flowers...

Wednesday, April 17, 2013


     One of my very favorite scents is Orange blossom. In Florida, at a certain time of year, it's everywhere. It is especially strong in the night -- it is pleasantly surprising to be riding around and pass a grove in the dark, and be overpowered by that smell. It's intoxicating. Whatever you were thinking about just slips away, and you find yourself feeling happy.
     All the tourist places sell orange oil. While it smells pretty, believe me it is not the same. It can only remind you of the ghost of a haunting, seductive memory.
     A person can get lost in that scent.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


     As you know from a previous post, I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo.
     I'm working on my next novel, which is a companion to my first novel, DESDINOVA. My second novel is titled NO ONE LEFT TO DIE, and it tells of Dixie's upbringing in the backwoods of West-byGod-Virginia and on the road with his Uncle Mace, who is also a character in the DESDINOVA.
     Dixie was a mysterious and unusual character in the first book, and I feel he deserves a story of his own.
     I hope to at least finish the first draft this month.
     Stay tuned for further developments!

Monday, April 15, 2013



     One fine spring day, Mr. & Mrs. Harry Robert Bluebird flew in to start a family in their usual birdhouse. Imagine their surprise to find it completely gone! Mrs. Bluebird hopped from branch to branch in consternation, chirping frantically. Mr. Bluebird sat on the post the house had been on and ruminated. It didn't do any good to fuss about it, because it just plain wasn't there! So he decided to look around to see if he could find another home to placate Mrs. Bluebird, as she was anxious to build their nest.
     Mr. Bluebird led Mrs. Bluebird to the birdfeeder, which was still in its usual place. Then he girded his tailfeathers and flew around to investigate. He found that all the other birdhouses already had tenants. Not only that, but they were proudly building their nests in brand new houses!
     He flew further afield to see if there were any more prospects, with no luck at all. He sadly flew back to where he left the little Missus to tell her the unfortunate news.
     He could hear his wife chirping excitedly as he flew back. He flew as fast as he could to come to her aid. He whizzed around the corner and beheld a Human hammering a brand new birdhouse in place where the old one had been. He could see another bluebird couple creeping closer to claim the new home. He knew that Mrs. Bluebird was too shy to confront them. Mr. Bluebird pumped his wings even faster and landed on top of the house even before the Human was halfway down the ladder. Mrs. Bluebird flew over triumphantly with a twig in her mouth to start the nest.
     "What took you so long?" she chirped.
     "Better late than never," he answered sagely.
     He looked over to the other bluebird couple, still frustrated in the tree.
     "We'll laugh about this later," he said by way of greeting.
     And they surely did, after the Human had put up a few new birdhouses in the area. The bluebirds were very happy that year, and many new bluebird babies were the result of that.
          THE END.
--by Shayla Kwiatkowski

Saturday, April 13, 2013


   Today we have the letter "L", so I am offering my short story THE LITTLE TROLL UNDER THE STAIRS for free starting today April 13 until April 17.
   It is a children's story about a mean tempered little troll that lives under the stairs, and the 3 children who befriend it.

Friday, April 12, 2013


     There is nothing like a Florida sky, with all the ice cream colors. If you look real close, sometimes you can see the fabled "green flash" right as the sun drops below the horizon. I loved being back home again. I feel "my true me" in Florida. I wanted to share this picture my daughter took with you all. Now 'scuse me while i KISS the sky!

Thursday, April 11, 2013


In case anyone ever wondered, here's the jingle for the Chiquita Banana Song!

   "I'm Chiquita Banana & I've come to say
   Bananas have to ripen in a certain way
   When they are flecked with brown & have a golden hue
   Bananas taste the best & are the best for you
   You can put 'em in a salad, you can bake them in a pie
   Anyway you want to eat them, it's impossible to beat them
   For bananas like the climate of the very,very tropical
   So you should never put your bananas in the refrigerator.
   No, no, no!"

Have a happy day, ya'll...

Wednesday, April 10, 2013



     Lucifer was running for his sanity. He was even tempted to call Heaven and beg forgiveness. Who would have thought a few little hippies would be so much trouble? It wouldn't have been so bad if they'd had the grace to suffer like all the other lost souls. But what did they do? They organized. They protested. They danced through the flames and chanted. They marched on Lucifer for better conditions. They had a freaking party!
     It was more than one fallen angel could bear. So much for being Lord and Master, it was not all that it was cracked up to be. He would rather wash all the toilets in Heaven for Eternity than try to make sense of one more hippie.
     This is how he found himself at St. Peter's Gate, head bowed, pitchfork in hand.
     St. Peter raised his eyebrow.
     "Took you long enough. The Big Guy's been waiting. He's in His office."
     Lucifer presented himself before his Lord Almighty, sitting on His Holy Throne.
     He was in luck that day.
     The Porcelain Throne was backed up...
          THE END.
--by Shayla Kwiatkowski

Tuesday, April 9, 2013


     Since the -punk genre is so popular right now, I decided to create my own. I offer you here: Hillbilly-punk.

                    HILLBILLY PUNK
     Bucky hated the city. He was getting pert near tired of people making fun of his accent. Heck, he had a college education! Yet everywhere he went, he was ridiculed and treated like he was sub-human.
     His children fared no better. They were all bullied mercilessly. And his wife complained about being called white trash.
     Everyday it festered inside him and he grew meaner. One day, he realized that things were never going to get better, so he decided to have a little fun with it.
     He gathered his family together: his wife, 5 children, and his crochety old mother-in-law, dang her hide. He laid out his plan, and over a weekend changes were made. They loaded up all their store bought fineries, and made a quick trip home to the mountains. They returned in his daddy's old farm truck with the kids and a couple of dogs riding in the back with a load of stuff.
     Come Monday, those city folk were quite shocked to find real hillbillies living in their midst.
     Each and every one of them sported overalls and a flannel shirt. Bucky let his hair grow and grew a healthy looking beard. When he was feeling exceptionally spiffy, he wore a battered straw hat.
     His wife hung flour sack curtains in the windows. She unpacked her granny's old tin plates, with Mason jars to drink from. They all sure enjoyed their daily fare of beans, taters, and cornbread.
     Bucky got enterprising and tore out all the electric appliances. With no electricity, they used candles and oil lamps, and he put in a woodburning cookstove. When they wanted hot water, they heated it on the stove. He tore up the yard to make a mighty fine garden. And directed his wife to wash clothes in a washtub on the porch using a scrub board, and to hang it to dry on a clothesline in the yard.
     They had fun devising ways to non-conform. They played up their heritage, and exagerated their accents. They sat on the porch of an evening greeting their neighbors as they passed.
     At first, it scared those fine citizens, always worried about their property value. But then they got used to it, and began responding. Soon they were downright jealous of Bucky for living off the grid and being green.
     Imagine Bucky's surprise to find his neighbors falling off the consumer bandwagon and following along right behind them.
     Their name was Jones, after all.
               THE END.
          -- Shayla Kwiatkowski, 2013

Monday, April 8, 2013


   Today's post begins with the letter "G", so I will offer my short story GHOSTIES for free starting today April 8 until April 12.
   It is a children's story about a little ghostie living in an old house with other ghosts, and only having a little tea doily to fly around in.

Saturday, April 6, 2013


   Today's post has to do with the letter "F", so I will offer my short story FROZEN LOVE  for free starting today april 6 until april 10. 
   It is a story of an abused woman and her daughter starting over in the Colorado mountains. It is a story of hope.

Friday, April 5, 2013


               THE END OF ALL TIME

   The sky roiled and rumbled. People gathered in the streets to watch. Some turned their heads away, knowing their own doom and unable to watch.
   Suddenly a loud clap preceeded the outpouring of demons from the dark clouds. People ran for cover, as the demons tore into the crowd, rending the bodies into piles of rotting meat, attended by flies.
   People banded together for protection, hoping the crowd would protect the individual.
   Opposing forces met to discuss strategy, but secretly they were gathering information on the other's firepower to use it against them.
   Babies were killed for making any sound that might attract the demons-- but they never actually went for innocent babes.
Motherswailed their misery and were then destroyed in the frenzy of the maddened crowd. Old people and children were thrown in the open to appease the beasts, but died of starvation and cruelty of their own kind before becoming more dead flesh.
   Still the demons came. People kept running in mass exodus from where they'd last congregated, leaving the weak to be devoured.
   Finally someone suggested that the demons were attracted to violence, and all became quiet. They tried to become kindly, which confused the demons and hid the humans from their radar for a short while.
   But such a thing could not last. A random cruelty set off a chain reaction and it led to the full destruction of the family of man. Husbands and wives divorced in the night and cleaved to another. Siblings could not contain their rivalry; long held prejudices bloomed into hate.
   The demons scoured the earth for any stragglers but were met by silence everywhere they went. Finally they flew back into the dark clouds to rest into the eternity of peace. Man would no longer disturb them with their turmoil.
   Humans had bonded together in the selfish hope that the group strength would protect their own individual selves-- but all they had to do was be kind to each other to remain unseen by the demons, who were drawn to their own kind. Unfortunately, man no longer had the milk of human kindness in their hearts.
   The earth wept many tears to clean the debris left in the wake of man's race to escape the Garden of Eden. Then it rested.
   God turned his head and wept.
                         THE END
     -- Shayla Kwiatkowski, 2012

     This very short story was available on Amazon for awhile, but I have removed it to put it on my blog. It was written as a short kamikaze commercial break for people to stop and think.

Thursday, April 4, 2013


   Today's post is brought to you by the letter "D" (I feel like Sesame Street!)-- so I am offering a contest to win a free copy of my ebook DESDINOVA to be awarded May 1. To enter, send an email with DESDINOVA in the subject line. Happy reading!

*(DESDINOVA is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Sony, Apple, Kobo, Copia, Baker & Taylor, Gardners, EBookPie, eSentral, Scribd, or download to computer.)*

UPDATE -- Sorry ya'll! I just realized the email link doesn't work, please email me at shaylakwiat@gmail.com.
Sorry for the confusion.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013



     The police car slid into the parking lot, blue lights flashing. The red flashing lights of the ambulance lent a deeper sense of emergency to the scene.
     Officer Mallard jumped out of his patrol car, the weight of it still shifting. He flew into the motel office.
     "Shots fired..." he directed at the hotel manager. "Which room?"
     The shaken and terrified manager motioned to the other three people situated around the room. There was a tired looking middle-aged woman, a little girl about 10 years old with cornrows and flashing eyes, and a grandmother with a belligerant look on her face. Officer Mallard smiled.
     "Well, Happy Birthday, Miz Pepper. I see you're having the usual celebration. Now why don't you help me fill out my report, so you can get some rest."
     He greeted the other females as well.
     "Reenie. Shayna."
     The woman and her daughter responded only by shifting positions. They looked exhausted.
     He turned his attention back to the older woman.
     "So... Miz Magnolia Pepper. How old are you this year?"
     "I am 39 years old," she announced with a straight face and tightened lips.
     "Now Mama P, how can that be? Jimmy Ray is 39 himself."
     The Lord works in mysterious ways, son."
     "Well that he does, but just to be on his good side, I'ma put down 62."
     The old woman tightened her lips even more and glared at the officer. He shut his notebook with a snap.
     "Okay, that's all I need. Why don't ya'll go on back to your room and get some sleep. And Happy Birthday to you again."
     The three women shuffled out with a dramatic sense of dignity. As the door shut behind them, the manager of the motel exploded.
     "I've got a shot up room here! Is that all you're going to do?"
     Officer Mallard raised his hand.
     "Let me explain something to you... Jimmy Ray has a powerful thirst for drinking. Every year on his Mama's birthday, he has to go out and get her a real fine present. Else she might get mad and kick him out. But if he spends all his money on a gift, then he has no money to buy his beer. That puts him in a real nasty mood, and he starts shooting at her, and she shoots back at him."
     The manager closed her eyes and shook her head.
     "But why doesn't he just buy his beer and give her a gift of peace?"
     "Well how else is she gonna know he loves her? They always miss each other, see?"

     He gave a salute and headed back to his vehicle. The ambulance had pulled out as soon as they found out who was involved.
     The motel manager opened and closed her mouth like a gasping fish. Finally she just sat down and stared.
          THE END
--by Shayla Kwiatkowski

Tuesday, April 2, 2013


     For today, I wrote a short story about Bullies.
     Many of us were either bullied or the bully in some way. Or maybe even both at different times. At any rate, we are marked by it. At this late stage, we should forgive ourselves for the way we treated others, or stop re-living the shame of being a wimp. There may be nothing we can do to address the actions in our past, but we can change the balance of the universe in the way we treat others.


      The lot was packed. I knew I should have left earlier to find a good parking place. Now, I’d have to look in the back row.
      St Michael’s Catholic Church and School held this arts and crafts fair annually. It had become a wonderful outlet for local artists to profit as well as snag up all kinds of cool original art. I had a little shop downstate and it was imperative that I score some new product.
      Finally, in the far corner of the lot I found a spot. I didn’t much like the looks of the small gang of boys hanging out there drinking beer. They turned to watch me park. I figured that humor would defuse any situation, so as I got out I flipped them a quarter and asked them to watch my car.
They stepped back, and the smile died on my face. They were surrounding a young boy laying on the ground.
      I saw red.
      “Oh hell no! Ya’ll step back immediately, I’m calling 911!”
      They all stepped back and calmly watched me call the po-po on their butts.
      “911, what’s your emergency?”
      I explained the situation to her as quickly as I could, and instead of righteousness, I heard the dispatcher sigh.
      “Ma’am, I don’t know how to tell you this -- but the boy is a ghost. This happens every year on this day. Why don’t you talk to the boys there and I will send an officer right over.”
      My mouth dropped. I gave the hoodlums an incredulous look and knelt by the boy. He looked to be in great pain, and couldn’t speak. His eyes beseeched me. I would have given anything to end his pain. My face dripped crocodile tears.
      The ringleader, a great hulk of a brute, stepped behind me.
      “His name’s Mikey… he’s my little brother.”
      I turned so quickly that I lost my balance, and sat hard next to the boy. I reached for his little hand as the spokesman told his tale.
      “He was beat up at recess and left out here all day. He was dead when they found him at the end of the day, 10 years ago. He was 9 years old.”
      My mouth twisted up in bitterness.
      “And I suppose you are the ones who did it, huh?” I cried out. I tried to gather the boy in my arms, but couldn’t move him. He was glued to the ground.
      I heard feet shuffling, and looked up at a circle of shame. The only one who would meet my eyes was the brother.
      “It was them.” He motioned to the other boys. “But I’m just as guilty. I bullied them and planted the seed. Also I wasn’t the best brother in the world either. Forgive us. Forgive yourself.”
      I shook my head in disbelief.
      “What! Are you crazy? I didn’t do anything!”
      Giving the evil eye is hard to do when you are blinded by tears. I couldn’t even see them. Instead, I saw another face.
And cried my heart out.
      “There was this girl…” I started, “in 7th grade… I used to trip her, and call her names. I don’t know why.”
      I cried harder.
      “I don’t even know why!”
      The big guy held out his hand to me, and I took it. Any port in a storm.
      “Look at Mikey,” he said.
      I wiped my eyes and looked.
      He was gone.
      A crunch of tires drew our attention to the cop car creeping up. They didn’t even get out, just nodded as I waved them on.
      One of the others handed me a beer. I accepted gratefully.
      It was going to be a long night.

--by Shayla Kwiatkowski, 2013

Monday, April 1, 2013


     So I missed the choose your own APOCALYPSE blogfest, but I've decided to write one anyway.

                    PARASITE BLUES

     The Earth shuddered and groaned. She tried to cleanse itself with tears of rain, but the rain fell dirty. She agitated her waters, but it only stirred up more garbage. She tried to blow the filth away, but it only spread around.
     The Earth had lived a very long time, but these human parasites were killing her fast.
     Finally the Earth had reached her limits. It convulsed and exploded. The rains fell hard, and the wind blew hurricanes and tornados. The oceans carried its pollution to shore; lava flowed from volcanos & covered all in its path. The Earth quaked her whole body and dragged all on her surface to her furnace core where she burned all the human parasites and their spoor in a cleansing fire. 
     Then all was still. Mother Earth took a deep breath. Blessed peace at long last.
     Soon with the help of the human fertilizer, the Earth's coat grew lush, green, and healthy.
     Really, these humans were worse than fleas.

--by Shayla Kwiatkowski