The Social Porcupine

Once upon a time a knight in shining armor saw a princess drop her handkerchief. He went to help her. But an evil witch had whispered lies into his ears, about how young girls did not need men.  "You can get it yourself,” he told her. He took off his armor. "Princess, wear my armor."  She looked at her soft hands and suddenly felt ashamed for not having gotten her own handkerchief. She tried to pick up the armor. It was too heavy.  Bitterly the knight laughed. "You must not be a real princess," he said.  He left, and she knew his words must be true.  The same witch came to the girl and proclaimed more lies. “You are a strong girl. Why do you care about him? You do not need him. You can pick up your own handkerchiefs. And now you have armor.”  The Princess picked up her handkerchief and cleaned her eyes. She had never craved power before, but now she knew empowerment. She didn’t like how it felt… how it made her feel like a knight. Sh...

I once worked in customer service. You know, the job where you paste a smile on your face when all you want to do is let that other person have what ought to be coming to them. But of course, you keep the smile, keep the words, and keep on serving. For the small, silly reason that you want to keep your job (though, those of us that have quit, know that we’d never take such a job back. Even when our bosses have told us over and over, “Oh, but you were made for customer service!”).  Hah. Made for it.  But how the world has changed.  Now, or so I heard, rude customer service is encouraged. Of course, only for the correct political reasons. Maybe I would have stayed in the business, had it been so in my day . . .  But then maybe not. Back then I definitely had my moments of wishing to spit in people’s faces. But now . . . with that warning constantly being bombarded into my eardrums, I’m sure I’d not be able to curb the temptation.  Back then I’d merely have been fi...

 A faded grey sparrow's bright tune is abruptly interrupted by a strange sight. A young girl cradles a frog in her palm. Fear sparkles and falls from her eyes.  "Ought I to break your spell?" she asks the frog. "I could never bear to have you settle for me."  "Never would I settle for you! Nay, rather I yearn to settle with you!"  "But the first kiss may be unpleasant . . ."  The bird wonders over all this; at a pretty girl holding an ugly frog. It was clear that it wasn't so much she thought kissing this slimy thing would be distasteful, but that the creature would be disappointed by herself.  "It's not the first of which I dream, but each one that shall follow," the frog says.  "But . . ." Her lip quivers. "I'm such a horrid girl."  The frog croaks, "It is I that am the beast. Your kiss will save me."  The bird watches as the girl hesitates, fighting some uglier creature locked away, deep ...

On April 10th I looked at the calendar and was shocked to see that only a third of the month had passed. April has been looong but in all the best senses of the word.  Basically, it feels like I've lived two months of amazing life these last couple weeks. Ever have that happen to you?  Left to right: Rashida and her husband (Jack); Jack's friend, Jager; my sister, Jerushah.  One of my best friends, Rashida, came from Tennesse with her husband to visit the first week of April. That was a great way to start off the month. I took most of the week off from work, and just had too much fun. We talked and laughed and hiked and visited Glacier.   At Glacier, we stopped to visit this pretty area next to some railroad tracks. Of course, a train decided to come while we were there ... we ran away, feeling like (at least I was) crazy teenagers.  "Rashida, meet Lauren. Lauren, meet Rashida." This is what I call #friendretiring. Rashida is ...

I'm starting another serial, y'all, and I'm super excited about it, too!  After I finished the Lawrence Children , I asked you all what you wanted to read next. Most of you said, "Please write Narnia eight!!!!!"  And I did just that.  I hoped to have the story up by January. But as you all know, stories take time to write, and that time is often longer than desired. But I did write it, and it's twelve installments long, and if I do say so myself, I quite like what happens to Susan ;D I decided to hire an editor so the story will be in the best condition possible.  So that means Susan's story won't be ready for all you dear people until March.  I'll be posting the same as before, an installment every first Monday of the month.  But I'll also be testing out the waters of Wattpad and posting there every month, too. Don't worry, blogging friends get first reads. I'll be posting on Wattpad the first Wednesday foll...

A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS fan fiction *spoiler alert* this is set after the end of the last book read to be satisfied, unless you'd rather stay depressed in ignorance  Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire had been rowing for hours, baby Beatrice sitting between the three of them. Long ago the boat’s sails had been torn by terrible winds, hence they were forced to use the last of their strength to paddle.  But they weren’t thinking of how their arms ached, or even of how they’d love a good meal put inside their stomachs.  No. All they could see was the house before them.  Baby Beatrice pointed, her other hand grabbing Violet's arm. She babbled, “Blah?”  Sunny understood the baby the best, having just recently exited babyhood herself. But Sunny did not answer the baby, for she did not know what to make of the sight before her. “It looks like Aunt Josephine’s house,” Klaus whispered, adjusting his glasses.  “But... we saw it ...

Cockroaches and Math It was early morning, but I felt today was perfect. My friend, Rose, was in the kitchen, her music playing gently as she started breakfast. I skipped into the kitchen, “The animals - can you help me find them?” Rose motioned toward the back porch, “I just let them out.” I sang loudly with Rose’s music (a song I’d never heard before) as I rushed to the pantry. I asked Rose, “Would you like me to cut sourdough?” She nodded, smiling. I knew she hated cutting through the hard crust. I cut the bread, still singing. I dropped several pieces into the toaster. “I have this great idea for a short story! About a good cockroach. It’s sad how people hate them, so I want to portray how they are mistreated.” Rose’s eyebrows arched sharply. The cat and dog scratched at the door. I threw the knife into the sink, ran to the door, and let the animals in, pouring food into their dishes. I came back into the kitchen, stuffed food into my mouth, and sang. “My, you...

Young And Stuck He was too young to be running from the law. Mistakes. They shouldn't affect him yet... he was just a kid. A kid holding a bank bag, running from raging sirens. “It was a mistake,” tears squeezed from his eyes as he clutched the bank bag, wishing he could throw it far away. He was stuck. He didn’t know what to do, what he needed. A place to hide. That’s all he needed before his legs turned him in. A hospital. He ran inside. The halls were empty, full of doors. Which one would hide him? Would any? He didn’t know, so he chose one. A whimper startled him; the boy screamed a single curse word. “A baby,” he tried to laugh, but his nerves were too tight. He neared to the crib. “All alone?” he whispered. “I wish for your peaceful solitude. I had a baby brother. Are you a baby boy? Or a girl? I feel like I’m talking to the air.” Footsteps exploded in the hall. The boy fell to the floor, hiding behind the crib. The door opened, a painful jolt erupted insi...

New Hair I know we should go, my daughter and I. But I can’t manage to make myself move. The scissors in my hand clang to the floor. What have I done? They’re expecting us, my family. But wait until they see me. Linnie knocks on my bedroom door, but she doesn’t wait for me to answer. She rushes in. “Mom, we’re late-“ her words change. “Your hair.” I laugh. “Yes, Linnie. My hair.” “It’s on the floor.” her words shatter me. I forget about being strong and not scaring her. I start sobbing, pulling at the hair that remains on my head. For so long I loved my hair... it was my pride. I kept it long, healthy, beautiful. Now it falls through my clothes, itching my skin. It clings to the carpet floor. It’s all gone. Linnie doesn’t freak. She’s too mature for a child. She gives me a quick hug. “We need to go.” Somehow she drags me to the car. She fastens my seatbelt. “It’s OK, Mom. Just drive. I’ll tell you when to turn.” I don’t pay attention to the speedometer or...

Love Warms  The child had discovered many things in her few short years. Tonight she thought of them as she spent her last night wrapped by cold. Confidence is choosing to not care. Not caring hardened one, made them as stone. Stones crumble, with none to keep them from washing away in the storm. There was no way to shelter oneself from the onslaught of betrayal and treachery one faced from every person that pretended to be friend. Yet she also knew she could not live much longer. Not without someone to trust, to help her. To show her love’s warmth. Love must be warm. She shivered. “I will if you give me a chance. I love you already.” The voice was distant, as if a memory. But she knew the sound. She looked about her, hoping to see a face. There were many faces passing by, but none had eyes to see her. Memories flashed before her eyes. A black book. A man that read words from that book, who spoke in the big, beautiful, warm church. That man did not understan...