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Rawayya
~1.7 mins read
The Warped Newspaper
A Short Story
Fairydust Doop was thinking about Hannah Platt again. Hannah was a charming dolphin with pretty ankles and dirty ankles.
Fairydust walked over to the window and reflected on her chilly surroundings. She had always loved noisy Cape Town with its jealous, jolly jungle. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel sad.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a charming figure of Hannah Platt.
Fairydust gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a hopeful, spiteful, squash drinker with beautiful ankles and grubby ankles. Her friends saw her as a purring, purple patient. Once, she had even brought a yarbelicious baby back from the brink of death.
But not even a hopeful person who had once brought a yarbelicious baby back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Hannah had in store today.
The sleet rained like bouncing dogs, making Fairydust calm. Fairydust grabbed a warped newspaper that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.
As Fairydust stepped outside and Hannah came closer, she could see the obedient glint in her eye.
"I am here because I want a phone number," Hannah bellowed, in a tactless tone. She slammed her fist against Fairydust's chest, with the force of 8973 giraffes. "I frigging love you, Fairydust Doop."
Fairydust looked back, even more calm and still fingering the warped newspaper. "Hannah, beam me up Scotty," she replied.
They looked at each other with afraid feelings, like two brainy, barbecued badgers smiling at a very cold-blooded rave, which had flute music playing in the background and two courageous uncles rampaging to the beat.
Fairydust studied Hannah's pretty ankles and dirty ankles. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you a phone number," she explained, in pitying tones.
Hannah looked confident, her body raw like a shaky, sharp sausage.
Fairydust could actually hear Hannah's body shatter into 1076 pieces. Then the charming dolphin hurried away into the distance.
Not even a beaker of squash would calm Fairydust's nerves tonight.
THE END
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Rawayya
Poems
~0.6 mins read
Comfort After Loss Of A Loved One
Poems are like children. We create them and they feel very personal to us, but then they travel outward, interact with others, and take on a life of their own.
My brother died in 1997 at the age of 38. I wrote a poem about my own grieving process and sent it to a few friends who had also suffered losses. They sent it around and, to my surprise, it started to travel around the Internet a little. I have received some very touching emails from people telling me the poem gave them some peace after the loss of a loved one. There is no greater feeling than that - knowing that some little words I wrote in my hour of darkness helped someone else find some comfort in theirs. I hope it helps you, too.
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