The Cave of Lost Wonders

 It's the end of 2022, and we are off to 2023. If you're interested in supporting a small creator, go support me on Patreon or through Paypal.Me. There's also purchasing my poetry book "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems."  The "Inquiring, Cheshire Cat" miniseries is starting January 2023, so be sure to come by and tell your friends and family.

    Inside the moist cave, tears of crystalized water fall and sing of forgotten dreams. The echoing despair eats at the mountain of treasures. Djinn lamps, gold slippers, and magic mirrors stand out among the piles of great wonders. But the torch lights are dim, and the chill of the cave claws its way to the bones. With such low light, one shin gets easily cut by stones. Leaving the bottom half of your leg dressed in red blood. It's fitting in a way as red has always been a passionate color and decorates the cave. Rubies, garnets, and burgundy silks cloth long dead bodies. Is it possible that these lost souls found themselves trapped? Or did they willingly enter the cave? Forgetting who they were as the gold and gems sang to them. Who knows, for their ears have long since decayed and fallen off.

Deeper into the depths, there are still treasures left. But the glamour has long worn out. Nothing within excites the mind. It's just a gaudy pile of things with skeletons popping out here and there. Who they were when alive matters not, for they are just another gem amongst the gold. What pleasure is there to be found in this near darkness? Food and drink aren't provided; it will be long until another body joins the pile. The dust coating the floor may be what is left from those long crushed under the weight of gold. But all that's left is to aimlessly wander the caves in dreaded wonder. So unforgiving this cave is, as you stay. And the song of falling crystalized water goes on, silencing the steps of the walking dead man. 

Dreams of wealth have manifested inside the cave, and all who have a hunger for its safety find themselves wandering within the moist tunnels. The cruelty of such an existence would be laughable if not for the broken world. For it is only the security of wealth that has anyone chasing these impossible wonders. Damn the curse of greed that preys on those who fear looming poverty. The beautiful gems twinkle with mocking tales of happiness. The bitterness of acidic water fills the mouth with each inhale of the cave's air. A temporary spark of joy could be found in dressing oneself in silk gowns and slippers. Decorating each body part in jewelry, but the serotonin doesn't last long. As each passing second inside the belly of the cave leaves you hungering for more. But the gluttony of gold leaves you starved.

It's not long before you feel too drained to take another step forward. There's still so much of the cave to explore and tunnels brimming with worthless gold. But surely a brief break isn't going to prevent further exploration. Finding a plush silk pillow partially buried within the gold, resting seems possible. But, sitting upon the cushion, exhaustion takes over, and sleep invades the body. Glittering dreams terrorize the mind, making it impossible to leave the cave filled with uncountable wealth. And the hypnotic song of falling crystalized water lulls all who rested into a permanent sleep. And once more, the cave added another treasure to its endless tunnels. END.

Guess What's Happening in the New Year

We're at the end of 2022, and I got one last end-of-the-year post in the wings for you. If you want me to post twice a month regularly, join my Patreon and become a patron. You can also purchase my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems," and leave a review. Think of it as a late Christmas present to me. The "Inquiring, Cheshire Cat" Miniseries will be starting January 2023 and will be the last miniseries posted on the Learning to Stand blog. I've been working on the "Inquiring, Cheshire Cat" miniseries since 2018, and creating these multi-chapter-length short stories is a lot of work. If you like my miniseries, join the $40 tier on my Patreon. You can also go through PayPal.Me if you're not interested in any of the above. Tell your friends and family about this and see you soon!

Patreon Request 29: The Fairy from the Icecap Castle

It's time for the final post of 2022, and it's been an exciting year. I hope you've been doing well this December, and happy holidays. May the new year be a better one! If you'll like to support me and this blog, join my Patreon or purchase my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems." Be sure to leave a review if you buy my poetry book.

Carved inside the highest point of an icecap mountain is a castle. The castle's harsh beauty is unwelcoming to the weak and gentle-hearted. Amaranth Emmerich is the master of this horrific chateau that resides at the highest point of the kingdom. But past the frost of the outside is warmth and gluttonous comfort. Inside the palace is a cozy throne room, and a visiting ogress reveals some exciting news.

"Your grace, have you heard that the King and Queen have finally managed to have a baby?" the ogress licks her lips.

"A baby? I see an heir has finally been born," Amaranth takes a sip from their gold goblet, which clashes with their cornflower blue skin.

"Yes, there's going to be a celebration to honor their daughter, and many have where invited,"

"Oh, have the fairies been invited too?"

The ogress bows deeply to Amaranth, "The seven other fairies have been," The ogress pauses. And feels a nervous sweat gather on her brow, "Naturally, you'd be invited to the celebration soon. You should receive great honor. I'm afraid that I must depart, your grace." 

The ogress then quickly flees the throne room to not suffer Amaranth's wrath. Amaranth rushes to one of the large stained glass windows to chill their frustrated feelings. Pushing the window open icy winds whip their face and cool their irritation. Unbothered by the cold, Amaranth casts a spell of harvesting wind to learn any news about their invite. When their hex returns, Amaranth learns they'll never receive an invitation. For the King and Queen had deemed Amaranth unworthy of the celebration. Slighted, Amaranth plans their revenge on the baby princess.

On the day of the blessing ceremony, Amaranth is dressed in their finest clothes and goes to the celebration in their finest dragon-drawn chariot. Upon their arrival, servants and nobles bow deeply in shock at their appearance. Even the King and Queen rise from their golden seats and welcome Amaranth. The royal couple had no idea that Amaranth was coming. The King then offers Amaranth an honorary place among the other fairies. Thanking the King, Amaranth removes their beaded black overtunic, revealing their chartreuse tunic gown underneath. The Queen compliments Amaranth's gown, and Amaranth returns the compliment. As the tension eases in the dining hall, the food gets served. At first, Amaranth is satisfied with their silver dinnerware embedded with rubies. However, the other fairies had gold dinnerware decorated with diamonds.

"Your majesty, do you believe I prefer silver to gold?" Amaranth tucks away strands of gray hair to look clearly at the King.

He hesitates and slightly bows his head, "I'm afraid your grace misunderstands. I was unaware of your continued presence in the kingdom as no one from my court has heard from you for around 50 years. Thus your dinnerware differs from the other fairies; otherwise, you would have received gold and diamonds."

Amaranth then turns to seven other fairies, "And none of my dear fellows thought to inform his majesty that I still reside in the kingdom?"

The bravest and closest fairy to Amaranth answers, "Have you forgotten, Amaranth Emmerich? At your request. We're not to disturb you unless welcomed into your home."

Amaranth harshly frowns, "Even still, Ellowy Lilymoon, as fellow fairies of this fine country, I still should have been informed about the celebration. Now I seem uncaring of the realm's goings-on."

"We all know that you care deeply. Why else would we reframe from distracting you?" Ellowy remarks into her wine-filled goblet.

The dining hall sparks renewed tension as the eight fairies enjoy their meal. The low rumbling of conversation quiets whenever one of the fairies cuts too brutally into their food. Neither the Queen's gentle voice nor the King's jolly nature brings comfort to their guests. But with everyone's bellies full, all that was on anyone's mind was what blessings the fairies would grant the princess. Finally, the long tables are cleared, and her wet nurse brings the baby princess in. A beautiful baby crib with bedding made of white silk and silver embroidery is set up for the princess. The sweet babe is laid within the crib and cooed upon by her parents. All except Amaranth are delighted to see the princess. It doesn't take long until the first fairy recites their blessing onto the baby.

The first blessing is for the princess to be beautiful as she ages. The following gift is for her to be intelligent. Next is the talent for needlework. The fourth fairy blesses the princess to be skillful in music. Her fifth blessing is to be good at horse riding. The sixth fairy gifts the princess a lovely voice to match her beauty. But none of these pointless words reach Amaranth. So why should they care about the wasted magic on a princess who'll receive a unique gift from them? A gift that everyone at the blessing celebration will never forget.

What could Amaranth gift the babe that would ensure that never again should anyone in the kingdom dare to slight them? Maybe for the princess to be kidnap and eaten by ogres. Or for all her children to die in adolescence. They could have the princess be deathly clumsy and die by her own two feet. But they will need more than these blessings to get their point across well. However, they have been working on a new enchantment. The gift of sleeping death should be a blessing to remember. Believing that all the other fairies have blessed the princess, Amaranth steps forward.

Looking at the infant, Amaranth does admit that she is a darling. But unfortunately, the girl has such careless guardians. Amaranth smiles politely at the King and Queen before speaking.

Amaranth turns to the court, "For my blessing, I'll grant the beloved princess eternal sleep. She'll prick her finger on a spindle on the year of her 16th summer. And die!"

A ghastly blue ring circles the princess as Amaranth's curse lays upon the King's daughter. The Queen sobs and begs for her daughter's life. The other fairies hiss in disgust as Amaranth gloats in the face of the nobility. Their threat was clear, and no one was foolish enough to stop them. Amaranth believes no one will ever snub them in this lifetime again. Summoning their overtunic to them, Amaranth puts it back on and leaves with a flourish. None dared to stop them as they rode their dragon-drawn chariot away.

As 16 summers came and went, Amaranth continued with their work of maleficent magic. Currently, they're working on creating an unbreakable egg for Lord Bluebeard. He desires an egg to give to his new bride. Amaranth believes that this would be bride number 11 this summer. After placing the finishing enchantment upon the egg, Amaranth learns that Lord Bluebeard has arrived. They put the egg inside a velvet pouch to hide it from view. Leaving their lab, Amaranth goes to receive Bluebeard.

"You're just in time, Bluebeard. I've just finished with your request," Amaranth hands him the pouch.

Peering into the pouch, Bluebeard sees the enchanted egg inside. He hands over the gold owed to Amaranth with a wide smile.

Lord Bluebeard fiddles with the pouch string, "Have you heard of the kingdom's most pressing news?"

A wicked smile takes over Amaranth's face, "I must say sleeping death is a beautiful curse that makes it impossible for the recipient to avoid."

Bluebeard nervously laughs, "Then, I'm sure you're aware that the princess you cursed isn't dead. Instead, she has fallen into a 100-year sleep."

"And who saved the girl from my curse!"

"I believe the fairy was Ellowy Lilymoon. The princess is said to wake up when a deserving prince is ready to wed her."

"I'm afraid we'll have to cut your visit short, Lord Bluebeard. Come back at a later time." Amaranth escorts Bluebeard out of their castle.

Leaving their castle, Amaranth searches for Ellowy. It took them almost three weeks, but finally, they found the other fairy. Taking Ellowy by surprise, Amaranth traps the meddling fairy inside a mirror. With Ellowy trapped within, Amaranth places a curse on the mirror, making it impossible for Ellowy to escape. Wishing to punish Ellowy further, Amaranth decides to gift the magic mirror to someone. After a minute of consideration, Amaranth remembers a cruel stepmother and her two vain daughters. The three noblewomen would drive the captured fairy insane with their selfish desires and haughty nature. After a quick visit to the family, Amaranth visits the sleeping princess.

Calling in a favor or two, Amaranth learns that the princess resides at her family's summer palace, surrounded by an idyllic hunting forest. What was once a welcoming forest is now a near-impenetrable barrier to nature. Yet, despite Ellowy's magnificent display of magic, Amaranth quickly passes through the enchantment. Amaranth searches for the princess, ignoring the slumbering servant scattered about the palace grounds. Bypassing rooms upon rooms of expensive furniture, Amaranth finally finds the princess atop a bed of silk embroidered with silver and gold. The princess sleeps as Amaranth whispers a new curse into her ear. Then, with Amaranth's last blessing ringing inside the sleeping princess's ear, Amaranth leaves the summer palace.

A 100 years go by, and Amaranth hears about the sleeping princess waking up and marrying the worthy prince who found her. Just the happy ending Ellowy wanted for the princess. After a few years of marriage, the young royal couple has two beautiful children. And with the passing of the prince's father, the country requires a new King and Queen. It's this moment that Amaranth has been waiting for. The height of the new Queen's happiness. Locating the magic mirror, Amaranth presents it as a gift at the royal couple's coronation. After all, Amaranth does need to deliver an honored guest to the new Queen.

During the coronation, the new Queen couldn't hide her happiness. Tears of joy sparkle at the tips of her eyelashes as her flush cheeks frame her dazzling smile. Although many things have changed during the 100 years she slumbered, much remained the same. The young Queen now has a beautiful family and a peaceful kingdom to rule over, as is her right. With the ceremony over, the King and Queen inspect their congratulatory gifts. Servants present one extravagant gift after another, with the most curious present being a mirror. Strangely, the Queen finds herself drawn to the mirror despite vanity not being a vice she possesses. Gazing into the mirror, the Queen receives 100 years of endless cruelty. Overwhelmed by the sensory overload, the Queen drops dead before her husband, children, and guests. Hysteria takes hold of everyone inside the palace as no one understands what caused the Queen's sudden death. Figuring that the Queen's untimely demise has something to do with the magic mirror, the King deems it cursed and has it thrown out of the palace. News of the newly appointed Queen's death spreads across the kingdom. Far and wide, from the nobility to the peasantry, quietly speculate the cause behind the Queen's death. During the mourning period for the lost Queen, Amaranth discovers the magic mirror again.

"I believe the neighboring kingdom has just welcomed its new Queen. She's the second wife of the King and the stepmother of a princess with snow-white skin and ebony hair," Amaranth smiles at the mirror, "I think you'll serve this Queen well." END.

Patreon Request 28: A Short Guide to Safely Watch Starlight Faeries

 2022 is almost over, and this year has been rough. Hopefully, 2023 will be better, and I'll be back in college getting my Bachelor's degree in Creative Writing. If you're interested in supporting me finically, join my Patreon and buy my poetry book "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems." Don't forget to follow me on all my socials, and on to the story!

The SVN Gazer Company

Location: Lost Sierra, California

Tour Hours: 8:30 PM to 2:30 AM

Guiding Gaze Groups: Cancer, Capricorn, Leo, Virgo, and Sagittarius. Each group serves ten guests.

Starlight faeries are nocturnal faeries that appear on Earth where the stars are visible. Their passions lay in the eldritch mysteries of the cosmos. The unsettling silence of space is their breeding ground. Earth's magnetic song is the womb from which all starlight faeries are born. To have an opportunity to meet one is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Starlight faeries have either space blue, blackberry purple, or dark magenta skin. They have long elfish ears pierced with a row of small hoops. Their body is freckled with glittering star-like patterns. It's been concluded that these patterns are random and not based on any star system. They all possess black eyes and silvery-blue hair. Each starlight faerie's wings are unique. The design found on each faerie's wings is a variation of an infrared wavelength. They're draped in inky-black clothes that are layered in a flowy material. They wear metal jewelry decorated with oily black stones. The oily rocks are likely meteor chunks, but how they are gathered is a mystery.

Starlight faeries travel across the globe to document the flow of Earth's esoteric patterns. However, most people can't see them because of light pollution. Nevertheless, it is possible to catch a glimpse of a starlight faerie during stormy weather. If you start a conversation with a starlight faerie, remember to be polite and never give your full name. They are inclined to humans interested in the esoteric truth of the universe as they love falling into deep discussions about the macabre and ethics of an unfeeling universe. It has been confirmed that starlight faeries have taken up long-forming bonds with humans. But if these relationships resulted in conception is still unknown.

The current ruler of the starlight faeries is their eminence, Luminary Lucienne. Luminary Lucienne is considered the wisest among the starlight faeries, which is probably how she achieved her Luminary position. Starlight faeries appear democratic as they vote in the Luminary's advisers. This voting cycle happens every six years. They're about 200 known advisers to the Luminary, although that number seems to fluctuate. Only ten starlight faeries were observed to speak directly with the Luminary. This information was provided by a willing member of the Luminary Lucienne consul. Because of the importance of Luminary in starlight faerie society, it is impossible to meet them directly. 

It is advised not to try approaching any starlight faerie without your Guiding Gaze group leader. Additionally, all electronics except for medical necessities will not be allowed. Instead, the company will provide in-person instructions, an approved light source, and a walkie-talkie. We hope that you enjoy your experience with SVN Gazer Company, and contact us if you have any questions. May your gaze be captured soon! END.

Patreon Request 27: After Hours at the Bronte Visual Arts Museum

 It's time for the October post, and this story is a haunting one to fit the season. If you would like to support my writing and allow me to continue with frequent updates, visit my Patreon and become a patron. You can also purchase my poetry book, "Living Day By Day: A Collection of Poems," and leave a review. If you aren't interested in becoming a patron or buying my book, you can support me through Paypal.Me.

    "Ding, ding, ding," a shaky hand silences the quiet alarm. Yawning, Dorian checks his phone. At first, the hazy numbers didn't make sense. Then, as his eyes began to focus, he read the time clearly. It's 7:43 PM. The museum closed 43 minutes ago. How did nobody spot him and tell him to leave? Thinking back, he started his nap at 3 and should have woken up at 4:30 at the latest. The museum staff would have never let a stranger just sleep past closing. What if he stole something? Better yet, what happened to security? A security guard should have kicked him out by now! Although, the actual mystery is how he can stand sleeping on the oddly shaped couch. Dorian finally gets up and shakes the numbness out of his body. He looks at his phone and sees that it only has 17% battery life left. Checking his backpack, he doesn't find his phone charger. Of course, it would still be in his car. With little battery left, Dorian chooses not to call anyone until he leaves the museum.

Taking a look around, he notices that the museum looks off. Artworks are either warped and placed elsewhere or are missing. As far as Dorian knows, none of the missing artworks could have been moved soundlessly. An uneasy shiver takes hold of Dorian's shoulders as a strange chill takes over the room. Unsettled, Dorian abandons his resting place and hurries to find an exit. The confusing hallways usher Dorian left and backward to deeper and darker spaces inside the museum. Until Dorian came across the 'Lying Portraits Room,' he stopped walking. Then, an unnerving call from within the room pulls Dorian to look inside. He's briefly blinded by the humming white lights. When his eyes adjust to the lighting, Dorian faces six paintings. 

Each painting shows the same beautiful young man in different poses. Besides, each portrait isn't a description but directions. Dorian gets closer to the pictures and doesn't realize that the doorway behind him seals close. The moving walls are unwilling to allow Dorian to take a step back. Moving forward, Dorian inches closer to read the plaques. For some reason, Dorian feels foreign eyes watching him. Unable to shake the feeling, Dorian looks around the room. It's then he realizes that the room is completely sealed. In a panic, Dorian rushes around the room, feeling for an exit. 

With nothing left to do, Dorian goes back to the portraits. From the far left, Dorian starts reading the six different plaques. "Force your way right, no matter how dark it gets." Dorian moves to the second sign. "Left, left, left, right, left is the way you must go." Unable to see how either direction could help him, Dorian reads the third one. "The first portrait will have you swallowed up by the dark. Trust the second painting only." Remembering he's inside the "Lying Portraits Room," Dorian discards the second and third pictures. Moving on to the fourth painting, the sign reads, "As long as you have a light, no darkness can claim you." Seeing this, Dorian knows not to trust the first and fourth plaques. Hopefully, one of the last two signs will have the answer to escaping the museum. "Chase the light even if you feel you're going backward. Be patient, and don't rush in dimly lit hallways. Stay in the light; the exit will appear." Not wanting to get his hopes up, Dorian moves from the fifth plaque to the sixth. "Don't trust what the fifth painting says as they're lying. Only trust what the fourth portrait has to say." Dorian smirks and mindlessly announces aloud, "Seems like I'll be following what the fifth plaque said."

Turning away from the painting, Dorian rechecks the room for an exit. Spotting a doorway that wasn't there before, Dorian moves toward the doorway. A violent rip is heard behind him, and Dorian quickly turns around. The beautiful man in the six pictures is either disfigured or killed. The first picture has the man blinded with a bloody knife in his hand. His eyes bleeding black shadows. His twin in the second portrait has the skin on his left side peeled off. Within his right hand is the knife used to remove the skin. The triplet in the third painting is gushing blood from his mouth. His tongue was likely cut out by the version of himself from the first picture. The quadruplet is a mess of tears and snot, surrounded by endless shadows. Only the dying candlelight keeps him safe. Strangely, the quintuple isn't within his painting. Merely a well-lit room with an open door to the outside. The last portrait has the beautiful man torn to shreds by the bleeding shadows. The longer Dorian gazes at the corpse, intensify the metallic stench of blood invades his nose. His eyes burn and water the longer he looks upon the painting. With the stinging becoming too much for his eyes, Dorian looks away.

Taking the hint, Dorian leaves the "Lying Portrait Room" and resists the strange call the space had on him. Fleeing through the reappeared doorway, Dorian chases the light. As he runs, he hears something lurking behind him. Slowing down, Dorian peers back and sees the darkness unleash shadowy tentacles his way. Unwilling to meet death or capture, Dorian picks up his pace and follows the golden light. For hours he runs and is nearly cornered by the darkness in several dim hallways. Until he finds an open door. A glowing red sign reads "exit," and Dorian breathes a gasp of relief. With a last burst of energy, Dorian dashes through the door. He's welcomed by a blinding white light and an unsettling feeling that he didn't make it out of the museum. END.

Patreon Request 26: Childish Curiosity

  I was but a girl when I spoke to the empty darkness below my bed. The lights were off, and I believed I was too old to sleep with a nightlight. But I wasn't too old for a stuffed teddy bear beside me. So, as a joke to myself, I checked under my bed for monsters. I couldn't see anything in the pitch-black room. So upside-down, I hung over the wall-less side of my childhood bed and called out.

"Hello under there, how have you been," with barely suppressed giggles.

With a grumble, the monster said, "Fine, go to sleep." END.

If you want to support me, you can purchase my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems," or my Paypal Me. If you want to consistently support me, join my Patreon and become a patron.

Enter Hippolyta Blackout Poem

Act I Scene I

HIPPOLYTA

Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;                 

Four nights will quickly dream away the time;                      

And then the moon, like to a silver bow                                 

New bent in heaven, shall behold the night                            

Of our solemnities.                                                                  

 

Act IV Scene I

HIPPOLYTA

I was with Hercules and Cadmus once,                                  

When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear                         

With hounds of Sparta. Never did I hear                                

Such gallant chiding; for besides the groves,                         

The skies, the fountains, every region near                            

Seem all one mutual cry. I never heard                                  

So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.                             

Patreon Request 25: Following After a Fox

    The crisp spring air whispers through kinky black hair. The late morning sun rests comfortably above the meadow blooming with wildflowers. Silly, rosy, and dandelion color ladybugs bumble through the air. A young lady in a pure white summer dress lays back on the fresh green grass. Domesticate animal shape clouds prance atop the vast blue sky. Soft brown eyes lazily blink towards the skyline. She sluggishly raises her deep brown hand to catch a white kitten playing on the blue carpet overhead. Sadly, the kitty got away. A disappointed hum escapes her chest. However, she isn't distressed about missing the cat and instead turns on her side. She felt it would be nice to doze off again after she tried so hard to pluck a cat from the sky. Slowly, dark eyelids hid away gentle brown eyes. She locks away the daylight out of her sight.

    An hour or so passes without the maiden waking. The surrounding woods bustle more as time glides on. Finally, unable to ignore the afternoon noise of the meadow, she's encouraged to start waking up. An upward stretch of her arms and a downward stretch of her legs help in waking her body. The crack of toes assists in blood circulation, and she finally sits up. Upright, she picks up her loaned book. An abstract art bookmark slips out. In blue ink, Mary, is penned. Picking up her fallen bookmark, Mary slips it back in its place. Mary pulls her light brown wicker basket purse toward her. Lifting the mouth of the basket, she tenderly places the book inside and removes her cell. Looking at the time, she realizes that it's half past noon. Looking around for her white sandals, Mary finds them a full stretch away. Not wanting to get up and grab them, she chooses to try and take them from where they sit. Mocking her efforts, Mary relents and crawls a bit towards her shoes. Once in hand, she puts them on as small huffs leave her mouth.

    Standing up with purse in hand, Mary scans her surroundings to ensure she has everything. A flash of red catches the corner of her eye. Turning, she spots what it is. A fox stares at her, and she recognizes that the fox must have been there for some time. Cautiously, Mary approaches the curious fox, not wanting to spook it away. Understanding, what she wants, the fox inches itself closer. Its moist snout twitching and the cute snout sniffs the air. The scent of wildflowers and sugary grass perfumes the air, not letting the fox smell Mary too well. Flush with confidence, Mary draws nearer. She tries to give the fox another chance to smell her, but a startling sound is heard that spooks it. With the possibility of danger, the fox scurries away. And without clear thought, Mary chases after.

    Running away from daylight, Mary plunges herself into the woods after her fearful companion. Within the depths of trees and foliage, the sun is cast aside. Navigating unfathomed pathways crushing unseen life, Mary charges onwards. The imitating trees obscure sunlight causing the woods to feel like night. Just the flickering red ahead is Mary's guiding light, faltering over plant life and disturbing insect homes. A stubble here, a trip there, did perturb Mary from her desire. The false night won't stall her, as the fox is just there. It's within her reach, so her legs can't give now. With labor breath and burning limbs, she forages on. Salty sweat stings Mary's eyes and burning tears battle with salty sweat. With blurry vision, she trips, and this stumble manages to make her fall. Grassy earth stains Mary's white dress and her dark skin. Bruises scream as Mary struggles to pick herself up.

    Peering ahead, she watches as the fox goes on deeper. As eruptions explode throughout her limbs and salty rain blinds her eyes, Mary compels her body to get up. The fox isn't too far ahead. She can seize the wavering red. Trembling forward, her feet are below her head, and she manages to stumble onward. Despite lacking strength in her body, Mary starts to run again with determination as her only fuel. With a slight hesitant step, the fox dashes away from Mary, leaving her behind. Refusing to lose sight of the fox, Mary gasps onward and plunges deeper into the dark woods. The sunny-filled meadow is long forgotten as Mary loses herself to the night-filled woods. Becoming a lost maiden forever. END.

If you would enjoy my writing, consider joining my Patreon as I post frequent updates and patron-only posts. However, if you can't become a patron, you can also support me by purchasing my poetry book "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leaving a review.

At Witching Hour in the Parlor Room

    

    The blackened 1870s Louisiana mansion looks straight out of an Edgar Allan Poe writing. The architecture exudes southern gothic magnificence among the humid autumn twilight. When enveloped in the crimson parlor bathed in yellow lighting, you'd expect a vampire to make an entrance. And in jest with yourself, you stay awake until midnight in false anticipation of the supernatural. Your eyelids sluggishly droop as midnight passes. Nothing happened. Without realizing it, the witching hour is upon you. The third chime of the grandfather clock causes an unnatural mist to blanket the room. The door creaks open as someone walks in. END.

I hope you've been doing well this July. If you want to support me, you can join my Patreon or purchase my poetry book, "Living Day By Day: A Collection of Poems." If you buy my poetry book, leave a review as it helps my book become more visible.

Humpty Dumpty

    Happy pride month, everyone! I hope you have all been good. I've been doing alright and have been making progress on the final miniseries "Inquiring, Cheshire Cat." Check out this post for further information. I will be posting the first part of the "Inquiring, Cheshire Cat" miniseries soon. If you want more details, join my Patreon. You can also support me by buying my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leaving a review.

    There once was a new boy who joined the neighborhood kids. His parents were divorced and had a tall wall splitting their house in half. This new boy gets nicknamed Humpty Dumpty as he would saddle this towering wall. The left side of him was on his father's side, and the right side of him was on his mother's side. Then he'll lean over left and right, showing off which parent he felt more similar to. When drifting to the right, he'll hop off the wall and spend that day with his mother. During the days he leaned left, he'll leap off the wall and have a fun day with his father. During the first summer weeks, the other children saw him doing this caused quite a fright. But in the mid-summer weeks, all the kids had grown used to his silly habit. As Humpty Dumpty did this quite often, the rest of the neighborhood children never worried that he'll fall. They all wondered if Humpty Dumpty did this before his parents divorced.

As summer ends and fall begins, all the children, including Humpty Dumpty, return to school. With school in, Humpty Dumpty doesn't scale the towering wall. Instead, he flipped a dime for which parent he'll stay with that day. If the coin lands on heads, then Humpty Dumpty stays with his mother. If it lands on tails, he goes with his father. However, none of the other children knew if that was what he decided. He could have changed which face represented which parent by the day. Throughout fall and most of the winter, Humpty Dumpty would flip his coin. The neighborhood kids started betting on which parent he would stay with for the day. 

During the winter holidays, he once more sat atop the dividing wall. The towering wall had a blanket of snow and was likely terribly cold. But Humpty Dumpty didn't seem to mind. All the children are staring at him as he drifts left and right in a dramatic fashion. It was a truly frightening sight. And like the summer before, that was how Humpty Dumpty decided what parent he'd stay beside. When school was back in, he started flipping his coin again. As the snow melted and spring returned, he used his dime less and less. Then spring break came, and all the neighborhood children rejoiced. That week Humpty Dumpty stayed with his grandparents on his mother's side. The wall was lonely, but a week is short, and Humpty Dumpty was back again.

All through the spring, he sat atop that dividing wall despite still being in school. But saddling the wall was how he liked to decide which parent he was similar to. It was determined by the neighborhood children that Humpty Dumpty had done this before. Sometimes he would lean one way for a whole week. Beckoning to the other children, Humpty Dumpty makes a show of which parent he was like that week. No one saw it strange as he was half his mother and half his father. And either parent was awful, at least to the neighborhood kids. The children understood that they were more like one parent than the other. It makes sense to them. The days seem longer as summer gets closer, and Humpty Dumpty and the neighborhood kids try to rush time so summer could come faster. They had to be patient because time won't move swiftly to please a group of school children. Days, weeks, and months pass by. And at last, the school year was over, and summer was finally here.

Without distraction, Humpty Dumpty spent most of his time on the wall that divided his parents' house. On hot summer days, he would wear swim trunks and hose down the towering wall before he sat upon it. He did this every day, and on the hottest days, several neighborhood kids would ask to be hosed down by him. Of course, the children would be wearing bathing suits so their clothes wouldn't be soaked. With summer days dwindling, and fall on the horizon, talk of the new school year started to happen. The last few days became precious as the hope of an unending summer gets smashed. But there Humpty Dumpty was, tilting left and right. On a windy late summer day, Humpty Dumpty was leaning too hard on either side of the wall. Then the expected happen. A gush of wind thrust him forward. CRACK! Humpty Dumpty plunged onward and fractured in half. His right side plummeted towards his mother's side. And his left side crashed towards his father's side. Seeing Humpty Dumpty broken, everyone knew Humpty would never be whole again. END.

Patreon Request 24: A Coyote Through the Desert

     The endless sea of sand crunch beneath the toes of the coyote as its nails scrape the dried earth. With the sand being so dry, it's easy to lose traction of one's footing. During the day, the coyote found itself constantly slipping from the sluggishly shifting sand. When the coyote did plummet to the ground, the sand burned the hairs off it. It has burnt flesh beneath the fur and is full of scars from the burning pebbles. Parched air whimpers throughout the wasteland, begging for moisture. But there's not a hint of water to drink. The fat beaming firefly drags itself across the cloudless blue sky. All the coyote can do is slowly crawl through the wasteland.

Through the unending hours, the pulsing firefly buzzes through the dull blue. As it moves through the sky, the sky grows dark until the firefly crosses the distant horizon. The sky changes from a dying light blue to inescapable black. The yellow firefly had fallen hours ago, with the mostly squished white firefly stealing its place. The white firefly is a slither of white, barely lighting the sparse landscape. There're billions of distance burning fireflies caught in a net of black that graces the desert with enough light to see invisible paths through the sand. The coyote goes swimming through the uneasy evening. Soaring inside the inky netting, a few fireflies manage to move within their trap. Most fireflies stay pinned inside the net, with only a few fireflies able to fly. With the night, it's easier for the coyote to travel the desert.

As the coyote searches for a safe place to rest, it follows the directions of the trapped fireflies. Whispers of wind stream past the coyote's ears. The harsh whips of air cause the coyote to fold its ears down to protect the sensitive insides. Even when its ears are folded down, the whistle of the wind pierces its eardrums. The minutes are on until finally, the breeze dies. The coyote freezes for a second to observe the area. Black eyes drag across the land. Cactuses and sanded over rocks sparsely litter the desert. There's nothing much to hide behind to take advantage of the coyote's tired state. Any threat to the coyote has possibly taken to slumber.

Sleep is the most desirable activity at the moment. But rest won't be easy for the coyote. Without packmates to watch its back, danger could strike as it slept. A night of rest is useless when the mind is on constant alert. The coyote's dreams are abandoned, as its mind is abuzz with the anxiety of possible danger. The coyote has to carries on, as there is no possible shelter to find here. It must follow the untouchable fireflies through the wasteland. Even when its paws bleed and its legs give out, causing the coyote to crash to the ground. Rest is useless, as only the promise of the desert end will allow the coyote to stop.

Hours have passed since the coyote started making its way across the sand. Lazy sand tornados twirl in the air. Distance chirps of desert bugs tickle the coyote's ears. Sadly, no friendly howls run through the night air. There's no chance of joining a pack or being adopted by a pair of older coyotes. The coyote is left to drift through the unending wasteland. Thirsty for security that solitude can't grant. But wallowing in despair isn't going to lead the coyote out of the desert faster. Forward it must go if there's any chance of survival. Twirling sand tornados die off as the coyote continues its forward pace.

The broken white firefly is behind the coyote as the pinned fireflies flicker ahead. It's a frosty night as the temperature drops further. Better to walk atop icy sand than burning pebbles that wedge between toes and claws. During the day, each step is a scorching pain without a place to rest. Sanded over rocks is nothing more than a taunting resting place that oozes heat. If rested upon without scales, blistering burns will scar the flesh that made contact with the rock. But at night, these rocks provide shelter for serpents. Some of which are venomous. Although the snakes are asleep, disturbance to their slumber is risky. The coyote carries on as the end of the desert should be near. Just ahead is the horizon where the fat yellow firefly fled. It is there that the wasteland ends, and so the coyote strives forward in solitude. END.

If you want to read more from me, check out my Patreon and become a patron. You can also buy my poetry "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leave a review.

Patreon Request 23: Three Archways

 It's that time of the month, and welcome to the newest post on Learning to Stand. It's been a while since I've posted a poetry prompt. If you wish for me to post twice a month, then head over to my Patreon and become a patron. Patrons get to vote on patron-only polls, read patron-only posts, and have access to blog posts early. If you are unable to become a patron, you can purchase and leave a review on my poetry book "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" as that also supports me and my writing.

Years ago, in a big transition in my life,

I witnessed three rainbow archways.

Framed by sun-kissed red apartments,

The setting sun kisses goodbye to the cloudless sky.

I took a picture then, between the runs from my old home

and my mother's car. Glistening brow and squinting eyes,

I raised my phone, holding it horizontally, 1...2...3.

I remembered an old meme about double rainbows,

but I found three. Back to putting cardboard boxes into the car.

The pictures were blurry, unfocused, and slightly fuzzy.

Like a memory, from one phone to the next, 

The photos get transferred. Until one day, I've lost them.

I hadn't a guess where they went, lost to time probably.

Now I have slightly fuzzy archways to remember within.

One archway for the home I'm leaving behind,

Another for the latest transition to my new life,

And the last for the future I do not know.

A rainbow, a rainbow, a rainbow 

Three distant rainbows I have no proof of, oh well.

I need only to remember to ensure they don't fade away.

Patreon Request 22: The White Scorpion

   Hello Everyone! I hope 2022 hasn't been going too bad for you. I've been dealing with insomnia a lot recently, but I'll get my sleep schedule back on track. If you would like to support me and have blog posts twice a month, consider becoming a patron of my Patreon. You can also support me by purchasing and reviewing "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" as that also helps.

    As the garden swiftly gets flooded from the sky's sobs, a white scorpion is at risk to drown. The salty tears drown more land as time goes on. With the threat of extinction, the scorpion dares to pray for safety. But it may be the scorpion's fate to drown. Then a frog came around and offered to help. Here's the scorpion's chance. Telling a white lie, the white scorpion crawls onto the frog's back. Halfway through the river of tears, the scorpion strikes the frog in the back. The poison permeates through the frog's veins.

    "Why?"

    "Betrayal is my nature."

Patreon Request 21: Blood Bags Only Club

Here's the February blog post. If you're interested in supporting me and check out my Patreon and become a patron. Doing so helps support this blog and lets me continue doing what I love. If haven't already, please consider buying my book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leave a review.

   "It's completely all right that you have no desire to drink from any human personally, Canary. There are plenty of vampires just like you. I can ask the other local coven heads if there's a place where vampires like you meet to drink frequently."

    Two weeks later, the newborn vampire, Canary, attends her first no-contact feeding meeting at the nearest community college. The theater hall hosts theater majors during the day and vampires at night. Classical music bleeds from the door. With a hesitant breath, Canary sheds her nervousness and proceeds through the door. The intimate gathering of other vampires is fewer than she imagined. While she's happy that she isn't the only one here, the fact there are so few other vampires like her is distressing. Could this be a rare condition that vampire society as a whole pushes aside? What if this meeting is to test if something is wrong with her instead? Before her thoughts can race any further, an unfamiliar voice breaks her mental cage.

    A vampire woman, who Canary can sense is quite a bit older than her, interrupts her overwhelming thoughts. "You must be Canary. I'm Alexandria, the leader of your first meeting."

    "It's good to meet you, Alexandria. Is there, are there more vampires like us?"

    Placing a reassuring hand on Canary's shoulder, Alexandria answers, "There is. Because this is your first time feeding without any coven mates, I thought it best to expose you to a small number of similar vampires. Outside of myself and Marcellus, the others in this group are like you. Only in their first few years as a vampire."

    The tightness in Canary's chest relaxes. There are more like her, and for her comfort, she's starting with a small group. Less shy, she follows after Alexandria and sits beside her at the round table. Looking at the others, she can tell who Marcellus is immediately. She's reassured, the other four members at this meeting feel about her age in vampire years. Getting settled in, Marcellus nods to Alexandria to start the greetings.

    "As you all see, we have a new member for our little gathering. For the next couple of group feedings, it'll just be us seven. Once everyone is comfortable, we'll have the regular number of members again," taking a look beside her, Alexandria smiles, "Now onto introductions. I'm Alexandria.

    "Hello, I'm Canary. It's nice to meet all of you."

    "I'm Reyes. Nice to meet you all."

    "I'm Marcellus. I go by they/them and he/his pronouns. I'm also the group leader along with Alexandria."

    "Good to meet you all. I'm Emma. I go by they/them and she/her pronouns."

    "It's cool meeting everyone. I'm Nirvana. I go by they/them pronouns."

    "Lawrence, hi."

    "Okay, with that out of the way, I'll go grab the blood bags!" Alexandria walks off to an unnoticed area.

    "Have you ever fed from someone before Canary? Or does just the thought of doing so make you uncomfortable?" Reyes turns his full attention to her.

    "I have fed from a coven mate's human partner before, and I didn't like the experience. I'm just not that interested in feeding on a human directly."

    "I prefer to feed on my human partner than a volunteer. Since I'm not seeing a human girl right now, it got suggested that I join a blood bag feeding group."

    "I'm the same way, Reyes," Emma goes on, "My ex-girlfriend was the one I used to feed on, but now I'm here."

    "I've never liked drinking directly from anyone, nor am I'm interested in having a partner of any kind, so drinking from a blood bag makes the most sense to me," Lawrence shrugs.

    "I only date other vampires, so blood bags are a must," Nirvana smiles with their fangs visible.

Looking at Marcellus, Canary asks, "How about you, Marcellus?"

    "I've rarely dated humans and prefer to drink from a blood bag. As for Alexandria-"

    "I was never interested in direct drinking like Lawrence. Here's everyone's mug!" Alexandria places a hot mug of blood in front of each seated vampire.

    Taking a deep drink, Canary feels more comfortable with the mug of blood than she ever was with a human feeding. It was clear that everyone else was content with their meals as well. Maybe in the future, they'll be a human she would like to drink from unless her partner is a fellow vampire. Either way, this meeting is a much better start to her new life as a vampire. END.

Pulsing Floor

I hope you're doing well this new year, and welcome back. It's been a minute since I've posted a poem. I wrote this poem while listening to the song "Whirl" from Soft Kill. If you would like to support me and my writing, become a patron of my Patreon. You can also buy my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" as that also helps support me.

Standing there in the middle of the dancefloor

Paralyzed

Not knowing how to move.

Close your eyes, feel the beat, 

Thumping through your feet

Right to your core.

There you go 

Making your way through the song,

Dancing, getting lost along the way.

You didn't feel like you fit on the floor,

It's okay

Stay away from the door.

Give yourself a chance,

Let the song lead the way.

Getting lost to the beat, 

On the dancefloor.

The beat pulsing through your feet

Here you're in the moment,

Feeling it in your core.

Getting lost along the way,

Unable to run away.

Paralyzed

Here's the chorus, sing along

Even if your words are lost.

It's alright, no one can hear you,

Sing loudly

Getting lost to the words.

Pulsing through your core

Go along, 

You can sing the song all the way.

From the song, the dancefloor holds onto you.

The door's too far away, 

Don't slow down.

Can't you feel the floor pulsating?

Your heart's in tune.

Down to the soul,

Away from the door,

Getting lost along the way.

Don't let yourself escape.

Stay, 

You're not paralyzed.

Patreon Request 20: New Year Bell

For January, there will be two posts instead of one since it'll also be my birthday soon. If you would like to support me and my writing, become a patron of my Patreon. You can also buy my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" as a birthday gift to me!

    In the old part of the overgrown graveyard, a wailing bell rings. The autumn wind howls along with the blaring sound. A dull thud, thud, thud, is heard from where the ringing bell is. The restless body of Jemima May is desperate to get out. She "died" at 15 in 1912. At the death of the previous year Jemima May, reminds everyone she's still alive. But the public turns a blind eye.

"It's just the wind."

"A storm is coming in."

The screams from the overgrown graveyard drowns these words out. The wailing grave bell welcomes the New Year again. END.