Forty-Fifth Paradox Writing

She waits for him,

wearing a gold dress that’s long since faded to pale.

Someday, she hopes

he will abandon his lily pad

for his crown,

and his fur for his own skin.

That he’ll trade his pumpkin

for a carriage,

and his ass for a horse.

But the spell hasn’t broken,

and she’s still left with straw

instead of gold.

Note: Yes, I know this contains references to a certain filmed owned by a mouse with big, round ears. Tell him he can consider it free advertising, like he needs any. The film you ask? Pirates of the Caribbean, of course.

All your life you did as

your pain, your family, your friends

commanded you, the sickness too.

Death regularly visited

your bedside like an unrepentant

suitor, but you turned him away

with your pistol.

He left in a longboat,

but he always turned his head back

with a smirk. He knew.

One day he’d come back for the heart you took

and kept safe inside your chest.

He knew you’d rather stab the heart than give it back;

he knew you needed it more, but he wanted the heart.

That day he sent a monster to do his bidding,

a poison that slowly killed you from the inside out,

until it oozed out your pores and swelled

the whites in your eyes.

Then you knew.

You knew it was time to evacuate your torn and battered ship,

and say your goodbyes.

I watched you face that beastie with tears in both our eyes,

but you laid there proud and courageous as you always had,

this time with a sword in hand instead of a pistol.

Others have left this world not knowing the face of Death,

because they were too afraid to turn their head,

but you did.

I still miss you, and I think I will until

I board the Flying Dutchman myself,

but know this,

know this:

I would sail past the end of the earth and end of the seas,

if I could bring you back.

I know it would be for naught,

for I know you’ve found your peace.

Though she’s not my husband, nor even my lover,

she’s an heir to a special part of my heart.

I know she’s alive,

but the distance that separates us is an ocean,

and it takes far too long to sail home.

My suitors are not but worries, anxieties, fears

that visit me every morning and every evening.

I know the moment she comes home they’ll flee

like dust in the four winds.

I fear she faces many trials and monsters harm in women’s clothing,

and that she will come home one day,

but I want her home today.

Slaying dragons really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. First off, they smell terrible. Just one whiff of dragon’s breath makes my stomach do somersaults and my head feel funny. It’s difficult to even approach them, because their skin does little to block the heat burning inside.

They’re difficult to reach too. Dragons tend to chose nests at the bottom of canyons, at the fard end of caves, or my least favorite: mountain tops. By the time I reach the dragon, I’m nearly too exhausted to fight. But at that point, it’s kind of too late to turn back. And so I entered the ‘dragon’s lair’, as it were.

Did I mention they’re mind readers? I never dare think of anything but the dragon and its scales. If I thought about my fair maiden, the dragon would surely attack her when he’d finished with me. If I thought too much about the fight itself, surely the dragon would know my attacks before I made them. But I should avoid not thinking at all…for that would have surely lead to my certain death.

As for the reward, I’ll just call it awkward. I mean…I’ll call her awkward. Marrying the princess sounded like a wonderful idea…until I married her.

Owners never light them well enough

Patrons tend to favor bigger cars,

With darker windows.

That could hide terrorists,

Kidnapers,

Monsters,

Dragons,

Even street rappers.

A health teacher told me once,

To carry my keys barred when I walk out the door,

As if that would stop a dragon.

But maybe it would stop a street rapper.

Something said my name

From underneath my bed,

As I grew still beneath the sheets,

In the spreading shadow of the night light,

And the sliver of light under the door.

But the door seemed leagues away

And the monster that much closer,

Underneath the law of nothing but dark of night and the call of hunger.

When I heard my name again,

It sounded far,

Like the name of the next child had been called by his mother,

To his room three houses down.

Or maybe the teddy bear I lost that day had come to me, from

Fighting bigger monsters in a darker land,

That grown ups had forgotten.

Friend to friend, I called back,

Past my bedtime,

And my teddy bear told no one.

Is a house of kaleidoscopes,

Solid colors,

Stairs and stairs and stairs, that sometimes lead nowhere but

Down.

Windows always show partly cloudy days,

And a living room is nothing more

Than a stepping stone

To exploration.

At least one room is filled to the brim with balls,

But I’ve yet to discover Randall Munroe.

And the neighborhood?

Don’t even get me started.

For a moment I couldn’t see anything; the light had left so many purple and green spots in my eyes. I glanced back toward the elevator, trying to ride my head of the dull ache. Who knew that elevators could leave me with a hangover? A few moments passed and the dull ache waned, and I shakily stood up. How could I ever guess an elevator would irk my fear of heights?

I guess I found it most odd that the elevator doors never closed, even after all that time, until after I stepped out of the elevator. Thirteen steps out of the elevator, and the doors snapped shut, and the elevator, shaft, ropes, and all dropped through the floor. Curious, I turned around and walked back the way I came, and peered into the hole. Heat blasted my face so intensely that I couldn’t open my eyes. Glancing upwards, and I saw clouds and heard birds singing.

Rubbing my eyes, I explored the thirteenth floor. So far, besides the creepy elevator, everything seemed pretty normal. The elevator opened  onto a hall wall, with office doors, windows, and brass name plates lining it on each side. I turned to my right and read the nameplates as I went by. They started out pretty normal as well. A doctor, a lawyer, a shrink had the offices closest to the elevator. The further I walked though, the stranger the occupations of the owners of these offices became. Frame thrower inspector, balloon blower, professional lip-syncher, the name plates read. Finally, I reached a door with a profession I couldn’t ignore: straight-jacket tester.

I leaned my ear against the door and listened. Inside I could hear singing, off-key, but clearly someone at least tried to sing beyond that door. Knocking on the door, I listened more. The singing stopped.

“Wash your elbows before you enter, please.” The voice requested.

As I blinked in confusion, a slot opened up next to the doorknob. Like a drive-up window at a bank a canister popped out of the slot. Inside the canister I found a washcloth and some hand sanitizer. Shrugging, I squeezed a dab of the anti-bacterial gel onto the cloth and rubbed my elbows. A camera over head buzzed curiously as it watched my progress.

“Thank you!” The voice chimed.

And then the door opened.

The Sun rose higher and higher,

Seeking someone.

Her rays stretched out farther and farther

Into the farthest reaches of the sky

But only found empty space

When she wanted to wrap them around the Moon and hold her son close.

“He’s gone off to war,”

said the Stars,

“You can only see his dark side now,

But he’ll turn back soon.”

And so the Sun shown a little brighter

Praying her son would come back safe.

And as soon as her son came around the corner of the Sky,

He’d reflect her hope for all to see.

Everyone knows a shadow

Makes the light stand out more.

And so, one day, the shadow sued the light

For taking all the credit.

And so they went to court,

The shadow represented by a real shark,

And the light a real saint.

In the judgement seat sat the Great Judge Dr. Prism,

Who sent a lot of wayward rays to prison.

They presented their case, and Dr. Prism listened,

And meanwhile the sweat on the Light’s face glistend.

And the hours passed, and finally,

Dr. Prism decided the case,

The excitement showed on every one’s face.

He read his findings out loud to the court

The shades gathered round, and made a great sport.

And finally, the world knew, that the light had won,

And the shadow was shown to be a crank.

Light cried so hard, and his brightness caught his tears,

For fear of staining the wooden benches.

But you see, the brightness missed a bit,

And the light fell through the cracks of the tears,

And a thousand pieces of color fell all over the air,

And that my child, is how the rainbow was born.