Don’t Make Me Come Up There – Flash Fiction

Photo by Ryan Hutton on Unsplash

“Don’t make me come up there,” he bellows at the sky. His face is murderous, the scowl etching deep lines into his forehead. The frown isn’t visible on his mouth as his thick beard covers from nose down.

“Darling, who in the world are you yelling at?” comes the soft, and slightly worried question from the woman leaning out of the sliding glass door. The light behind her casts her in an elegant silhouette and the burly man glances back at her, his scowl softening slightly.

“The damn twins are arguing again,” he mutters, jerking a thumb upwards towards the scintillating star-studded black sky framed by tall conifers.

The dainty woman arches a fine brow and glances upward. She doesn’t hear a thing; the forest is so dense and thick she can’t even hear the lake that is just a couple minute’s walk from the glamorous mountain home.

“I don’t hear anything,” she finally says, holding out her palm for him to take. He reaches out and his hand engulfs her, but he allows her to tug him back to the warmly lit interior. He gives one more ferocious glare back at the “silent” sky, then follows her back inside, sliding shut the door and pulling the blinds closed.

“Now where were we before you decided you needed to go out and yell at the sky?” she teases as she hands him back his half-drunk glass of wine and picking hers up as well.  She sinks into the sofa and tugs him towards her.

“When Cass and Pol start arguing, no one can hear a thing,” he mutters, settling down next to her.

She just shakes her head, not having a clue who he is talking about.

But how is she to know she is sitting next to a god?

PAD Day 22 – Stars – Stark Raving Mad Star Painted Skies

March Hare

March Hare (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Stark Raving Mad

is what the March Hare
calls Alice
who really must be a writer
because who else has dreams
like that?

The first poem is due to Robert’s lovely suggestion he’s totally fine with prompts that get bent a bit. I couldn’t resist. And honestly, aren’t we all a little stark raving mad?

Okay, now onto Stars (blank) poems. I really could have gone so many ways with this. I love astronomy and Greek mythology. I love how the mythology is in the stars and I love star maps. Constellation guides. I love seeing the blue fields filled with the lines of the constellations. I love learning the names of the stars. Vega, Aldebaran, Rigel, Arcturus, Betelgeuse, Procyon, Sirius, Capella……

I also love Enya’s ‘Paint the Sky With Stars’. Anything to do with stars I’m kind of a fan. I even fold paper stars. Heck, I need to write a poem about paper stars.  Oooh, I think I found my evening writing prompt.  I will come up with something I can add in for tomorrow’s post.  I have also been humming Corinne Bailey Rae’s “Just Like a Star’ in my head a lot. It’s on of my favorites of hers.  It’s just a really smooth song.

But for now, enjoy my three other star poems.

Starry Sky

Midnight blue field with silvered dashes
connecting alphas and betas and iotas
till Orion bursts forth as the mighty Hunter
shooting across the sky as the stories
ancient stories unfold
The lions, great bears, and bulls
circling around the mighty men
the dreamers and beasts
wrapped into a dome of magical light
whirling around and around at dizzying speeds
as the sun sets and the moon rises and
the reverse in seasons and moments
and arc minutes and right ascensions
till they pinpoints bleed into the galaxy that
we call home as far off distant light shoots forth
A star? No, another world light years away.

Star Painted Sky

Paint the sky with stars, in silvers and golds and blues
and dash all the constellations until the disk is
filled with the light and the stories and the music
and the tales from long ago myths
Paint the ceiling with stars, in bold yellows and reds
giants and dwarfs and suns spinning round
twirling us in a golden ratio of mathematical delight
a seashell of magic and spirals
Paint the summer with stars, crashing and slamming in sound
the silence is only in your head as the clash of
oceans of stars collide in a symphony of light spinning
spinning around and around and around.

Star Wishes

She wears a star on the inside of her wrist
a memory of a wish she made
and hopes that one day the wish she made
will turn out and really exist
But dreams and wishes seem so lost not found
as time slips slowly on by
and time is just but a memory
she wonders if the wish will ever be profound
But she wishes and wishes the same
hoping for something to come true
and wishes are true in ones dreams
These wishes are a burning flame


Christmas Stars

Twinkle, Twinkle little star, what a miracle you are, wonder how you ever came to be…


Stars at Christmastime is almost as synonymous as snow and Christmas. Clear, crisp nights with stars so bright you could almost touch them. Little diamonds in the sky. Orion shooting across the sky, trailing Taurus, and Leo chasing him.

Snowy nights with the stars above. Twinkling, twinkling, always twinkling.  Yes, stars are winter, and stars are Christmas. And it finally dawned on me the other day, why stars are so important this time of year. It’s all because of one star. The star in the sky that led the wise men to Bethlehem where Jesus was.  That was one very important star. The star the shepherds saw in the sky that led them to the stable. The star that remained in the sky for two years, leading those wise men west.

How very important a star can be.

And while I know stars are just flaming balls of hot gas in space, somehow I can’t ever seem to remember that scientific fact when I’m looking up at their magical diamond-ness.  No, I just can’t look at it as anything but a magical, very important thing.

I love the stars. I love looking at stars and the constellations.  The stars are my ‘friends’. I never can get enough of the night sky. And I think of the majesty contained in those sparkling pinpoints of light. They were put there for a reason, and I thank God for them. Somehow they seem to bring Him just a little bit closer.

William Blake wrote, ‘To see the world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.”

The stars are infinity and eternity.

Anyways, it’s that one star from so long ago that was so important.  I have the Gaither Trio’s song in my head. “When they saw the star, they rejoiced with great joy….” It used to be one of my favorites.  And at this time of year, as Christians, we rejoice.



Pacific Crest Trail logo

Pacific Crest Trail logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Every once in a while a story touches you and you just can’t help but want to tell people about it.  The other day was one of those instances.

Where I live we are very near the Pacific Crest Trail, and it is a common site to have hikers come down from the trail to our town to resupply and well, just take a break from the trail.  On Tuesday Mrs. Day and I were setting up our produce stand in town and this one woman hiker came over to check things out.  She looked around then went ecstatic when she saw our bowl of origami paper stars.

stars 3Mrs. Day and I spend the quiet times when we watch shows, and the winter, folding paper stars.  It’s not really for any reason other than it’s sort of relaxing and it keeps Mrs. Day awake.  Me, it keeps me from picking my nails.  We just use magazine paper, the ads, and have fun.  We have folded a lot of stars over the years.  Thousands of them.  Picture those big ice cream tubs.  Two or three of those full, not counting the ones we’ve given away.Well, this woman was thought the stars were so cute.  Mrs. Day asked if she had ever heard the Perry Como song “Catch A Falling Star”, because that is how we always think about the stars. A handful you can have in your pocket.  The woman hadn’t, but she said that she and her husband always look at the Perseid meteor shower but he’s in Kuwait.  She teared up while she told us this.  Her husband is in Kuwait for three years, and he comes home next year.  So she is hiking the trail this year.

Well, it was just so sweet how the stars made her think of her husband ( she pulled out one star that had a flag design on it) and just her little story was nice.  When she left, I couldn’t resist and filled a little box with about twenty or so more stars, added a note that included the first stanza of “Catch A Falling Star’.  I tucked it into her backpack which she had left at the Post Office while she went about town.

I hope she got it, and I hope the stars keep her thinking about her husband and when he will be home, though I’m sure she didn’t need stars to do that.

Well, that little story about her just touched me and I think it will linger with me over time.  I thought it was so sweet how she wanted to tell about him and teared up. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have your partner gone to the middle east for such a long time.  On the plus side, at least he’s in Kuwait and not Iraq or Afghanistan.

Signing off


Flash Fiction : Stars Are Like Wishes

Mia sifted her fingers through the stars.  Red ones, blue, turquoise, forest green, canary yellow, lavender, magenta, toffee brown.  All the colors she could ever name including coal black and a pure white.  Her thoughts tumbled to Perry Como’s song. 

“Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away,” she quoted softly.

Stars were like wishes.  Hard to reach and impossible to hold onto.  Wishes changed and morphed into new wishes.  Wishes that sounded silly or fantastic became serious and much more grounded the more one thought about them. You reasoned them out so that they would, or could, become possible to achieve.  From ‘I wish there was never any dust, to I wish my dust rage would hold more.’  Definitely more sensible.

But while Mia’s wishes had become more pragmatic over time, she still had moments she wished for the impossible; or the fanciful.  She would wish for the smell of violets in October or waking up to a batch of blueberry muffins hot from the oven.  While one might think those sounded reasonable, she knew that violets never bloomed in October, and since it was just her, the only way there would be muffins in the morning was if she made them.

She’d long given up the juvenile wishes of magic wands, flying carpets, and dashing Prince Charmings riding up on a pure white charger, sweeping her off her feet into wedded bliss.

She hadn’t given up on love, per say, but she had stopped expecting that ‘wow’ moment to come along.  If she was honest with herself, she still wished for Prince Charming.  Oh, not the kind of hero from fairy tales who slew dragons.  The kind of man who was almost too unreal.  No, she wished for the Prince who cared about her, loved her, and had a healthy respect for her life.  Someone who wasn’t out to change her, but would be her companion.  Well, okay, good sex was wanted too, but she hoped that was a given.

Mia is my heroine from my ‘novel’, Bookends, a story that I started years ago.  She owns a bookstore called, Bookends.  I decided to play around with something and this is what came from it.  I’ve started incorporating bits of thoughts into fiction, something I am not very good at. The stars are little origami wishing stars, or lucky stars.  My mother and I make these by the dozens for fun, and we sell them too. There is something therapeutic about sifting your fingers through a bowl of them.  (the link in the picture takes you to where someone else was selling them).

I hope you enjoy this bit of flash fiction.

Signing off