The dialogue of MISFITS

Siblings, Arrow and Star, spend most evenings in their basement. The door is paddocked from Botha sides. One, so they won’t get out. The other so their parents can’t get in.

Star:  “So, do you think we could actually do it?”

A moment of brief silence.

Star:  “Kill someone.”

Arrow: “Sure, I mean, all you have to do is hit the person over the head. With something; extremely hard.”

Star:  “what about motive?”

Arrow Finishes folding a paper plane.

Arrow: “Simple, curiosity. “

Star:  “Curiosity… “

Arrow: “Yeah.”

Star nods her head she leans in to her seat.

Arrow: “Mom or Dad?

Star:    “Sorry?”

Arrow: “Kill, I mean. Mom or Dad?”

The following dialogue is very direct.

Star:  “Dad; you?”

Arrow: “Mom.”

Both nod silently.


via Daily Prompt: Measure

He whispered in her ear, “Be sure to get the measurements right.”

His pale hand resting on her shoulder, at the back of her neck she could feel the wet, heated prickles of hair. He was watching her. Studying her every movement. The gestures she made with her hands.

“Quiet!” She snapped, “I can hardly think.”

“Hardly?” This from a faint, high voice. “I would think you more capable.”

The woman’s piercing eyes bore a signature she would never forget. It was useless arguing. She knew that they would only hush down once the mixture was finished. But the nuisance! Oh, the agonizing parallel of her mind. they could not leave, let her measure in peace. No. That would be a catastrophe, for they would have no fun at all. She begged and pleaded, but in the end they stuck around. Worst of all, the girl, with her cunning and seductive voice. She was her first ‘friend’ in you may. The one that stuck around. She did not mind her that much. Slowly, however, she accumulated friend of her own. Without so much as a please, they moved in to.

“I have work to do. Ethule!” She told them.

Ethule, ethule ethule!” The girl laughed. “How_ADORABLE. you should have a temper often.” She sighed and lifted her shoulders. She was sitting, barely clothed, legs folded on the table top. Staring at the items in her host’s hands.

“Tell me_” The woman paused to blow her nose. ‘What do we do after this” The woman gestured to the surroundings, more specifically the items on the table ready for measurement.

“Oh yes, do tell. What’s next? Where do we go? Who do we meet?” The girl sat up strait as she said this.

the mixture was brewing. The man, pale, horrid, crept closer to her once more. The girl jumped down from the table and joined them. The woman stood still for a moment, she lost interest. Non the less she to joined. She -and her unwelcome guests- stood by the stove watching the mixture cook. The measurements done perfectly, the transparent liquid smelled of poppy and cinnamon.

She spoke to them now, kind and oddly helpless. “You are going to like this one. He is dreamy. Nice too, much nicer than you were.” That directed at the pale man. “I thought he was a bit odd, I was hoping to play for longer.”

The girls came up behind her, putting both arms around her waist. She placed a soft kiss  on her shoulder, then her neck. All the way to her ear. Her whisper, silky, sweet, not like the pale man. “Can he stay too?”


Popcorn flames


“Can you smell it?” He asked.

Her head moved, her eyes now following him as he gallops from cupboard to drawer. She smiles but says nothing. Her eyes fall back to the page she is holding. He stopped in his tracks, turns to look at her and clenches his jaw. His muscles stiffen. He breathes in deep and exhales.

In sink with his reaction she falls into the couch, dropping her page and closing her eyes. She runs her hands through her hair, traces her ears, her neck, her shoulders. She presses down on her deltoids. Her eyes open, she releases her hands. Turning her head to the left to look at him, still he gallops from here to there. She giggles and throws her hands over her mouth. He lifts up his head, hands pressed to his eyes. He flings his arms down, like a kid trying to prove a point. Then he turns to her once more.

He tells her, “I am going to burn it and you will have to eat charcoal.”

‘So animated’ she says to herself. She pushes herself off the couch and walks toward him. She hugs him from behind. Traces his shoulders with her finger and goes to stand against the cupboard next to the stove. She takes a deep, exaggerated breath, exhales and grins. She gives a soft humming sound as response and heads back to the couch. She plants herself in the same position as before. Picking up the piece of paper she notices his glare.

“It smells lovely,” she says.

Watching a Raven

I saw it today, I walked past and it was just standing there. The darkness of silky feathers screaming out against the bright greenery of the park. It stood there; calm and peaceful, looking about at all it owned. It was bigger than I’d imagined, yet not as terrifying. In fact, I think, it was not terrifying at all.

No. No, not frightening either. Rather; it seemed peculiar. It was still. Holding an air of grace as if Gods bowed down to him. Giving off the sense of masculinity, fearlessly provoking bystanders. It was an odd little thing. A beautiful, odd thing. I would stare at him for hours if he’d let me. As if feeling my presence; that momentous lingering that would make any man turn. He cocked his head with the instant crackling of leaves, bolted his chest, lift his wings and let the earth give way beneath his claws…

He was gone. Calling to his friends, the wind and trees.

I wonder, perhaps_ What a strange character, almost intuitive. His glowing feathers that formed a black mold of perfection… Is there any truth to the stories of old? The legends, curses and tales of a Raven.

Perhaps, I wonder.

Bad luck or fortune, what will come my way?

Altyd Gevangenis

Just to assure there is no confusion, this is a poem written in Afrikaans. For those who are not familiar with the language my apologies.

~for Faye Dollie~

Altyd gevangenis

is ek tot jou oë

is jy tot haar glimlag

en ook die eenderse


Ons sê jy’s n POP,

oulike ore en jou grootte kop.

Nes jou pa

‘maar ek’s ma’

wat was jou woorde?


nooit sal ek weet,

nooit vergeet,

maar liefde is

altyd jou gevangenis.