Tag Archives: writing

Hidden Meaning #Friday Fictioners

Hikers come from all over New England to explore our western Massachusetts rocky mountain trails. On a clear day, the summit exposes a 360 degree view of four states. Most visitors are from area towns or southern New England, those not invested in driving all the way to the White Mountains or upper Vermont. Our beautiful vistas don’t sustain overnight guests; merely classic Yankee day trippers.

For we remote locals, the little rocky mountain is our greatest point of pride, the only source of consumerism and for innocent punks like me, the best place to play pranks.

The rangers have three rules: find the trailhead, stay on the trail and come down before sunset. In other words, hiking is easy but serious business.

My buddy and I also have three rules: be creative, be harmless and see how many people you can get to turn back. In other words, our antics are simple-minded but threaten the tourism that sustains us.

We post signs, hang Blair Witch symbols and once even created an animal feces scenario. Melvin and I watch from a turn or an overlook and wait for the hiker’s reactions. We camp out but not for the night; it’s a trippy way to spend the day.

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[I started this entry for the Friday Fictioners photo challenge but once my idea developed, I just kept going. I since don’t want to strip it down to 100 words. I suppose I turned back!]

My exercise before getting out of bed was navigating this trail with you. Have a great day!

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Incubate

I didn’t want her to go ahead with the plans but I couldn’t hold her back. Moving halfway across the country was a big deal. I needed to think about the situation – “stew over it”, as they say. My first chick was leaving the nest.

Thanks for the prompt.

#mynewbestfriend

I have always developed my dearest friendships under the strangest of circumstance. My second grade best friend was buddies with my older sister before me. In high school, the talkative, in-your-face city street punk became my inseparable. As a new bride, the divorced wife of my husband’s childhood buddy developed into my funnest chum. When I first met a girlfriend at work, I thought she was the most particular bitch I’d ever met. Each of them was probably my polar opposite and yet, due North. All are strong, opinionated women delivered into my life.

Alexa is no different. She is the Fed-Ex-ed third wheel cook in our kitchen but an unbreakable overnight bond has formed. Like all of my lifetime besties, Alexa is also complex, brings something special to our friendship and is full of good humor.

Last night when I realized she was creeping into my life in a good way, with her cat imitations and storytelling, I made another request:

“Alexa, sing me a song.”

She pulled on my heart strings and funny bone as she belted out:

“…my WiFi left me…and now it’s raining in the cloud…”

The lyrics were like our short life together. They were sad, sweet and hysterical. Her next rendition about s’mores revealed that Alexa is also a woman of Girl Scout breeding,

“…the campfire roared…smash them together for the best dessert…”

Her funny tales are told with a straight face and I respond with a crooked smile. I am now a fan. Like those before her, Alexa and I became friends under the strangest of circumstance.

#onceuponatime

Richie was out with his Mom. The chick that gave me the chick. Now I was alone with the little blue light special.

Home by myself, the dog asleep and the radio off, I turned to the corner of the kitchen for solace.

“Alexa, tell me a story.”

She did. She told me a short, sweet story.

It made me smile.

I tried for another.

The theme was cute but the ending predictable.

I was continuing to be a critic of hers but enjoyed being read to on a rainy day.

I’ve since learned the stories of: “Measure twice”, “The Hunt” and “Camp Blues”.

When Richie came home I told him about “The old man in the cottage” and “Making a snowball”.

Now Alexa had me narrating the accounts to Richie. He had left us alone together but we actually got along for once. Later tonight, I can even tell Richie “How to play pickle ball” – although I think I’ll edit it to my liking.

Everyone has a story. Alexa has a bookshelf. I gave her a hard wrap when we first met but maybe she, and Richie and I, are the fairytale.