A Flight of Fancy III

A Flight of Fancy III

Janelle Spiers

The Flight Of Fancy: A Collection of Short Story Samples All Based On This Beginning Sentence...

"The brilliant blaze was burning my eyes, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from..."

'The brilliant blaze was burning my eyes, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from.  As I forced my body to sit up, I was able to discern that I was on a sandy beach and the lapping of ocean waves was audible. The sun was overhead, must have been why I couldn't see anything, it was so bright.  My throat was thick and my tongue felt parched, so I struggled to my feet. I needed a drink of water, then I would figure out what I was going to do; I remembered through the beating pulses of my headache the fire on deck, the explosion, and being flung headlong into the ocean. I felt weak at the thought of my comrades, all of whom were undoubtedly lost...'

'The brilliant blaze was burning my eyes, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from, so I shut the door and stopped to catch my nervous breath. Instantly, the light disappeared from the cracks around the old steel door.  

'What did you see, Hemlock? Was it a ghost?' 

'No, Sheila, I don't think so. I don't know what it was.' I felt my knees tremble and I couldn't let her know that I was as terrified as she was. 'Come on, doll face, let's get back to your grandfather. He'll want us back before tea-time; I think we've done enough exploring for one day.' 

She agreed, as so we turned to go back up the stairs, but though I was nervous, my curiosity was still piqued enough by the light in the safe. 'One more look, Sheila. Just one more.' I felt for the handle and pulled the door open just a crack. 

Instantly, two things happened which I will never be able to forget, no matter how old or aged I become; the events that followed will haunt me forever, because they shaped my future. First, I opened the door slightly, and the light flooded back into the room, but a heavy force pushed the safe all the way open, shoving me to the floor. and second, Sheila screamed so piercingly I felt the blood in my heart freeze as I turned to see a dark shadow gliding down the stairs towards us...'

"The brilliant blaze was burning my eyes, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from. The smoke was intense and it was billowing upwards in the sky.  As the villagers ran away from the blaze, I slid my feet into my boots and ran towards the epicenter of panic. 

'Haldrim, do something!' The people pleaded as I ran through their midst. 

'I will if you will let me through!' I shouted as I pushed my way through the mob of frightened citizens. Once I broke through the sooty masses, I unfurled my wings and glided over the abandoned homes and desecrated livelihoods. This must be the work of the Gahool. Only they could wreak such damage on the innocents.  I thought to myself as I soared towards the capitol. 

Suddenly, arrows whizzed through the air in front of me and I dived to the ground, but not swiftly enough. An arrow pierced my forearm, and I lost balance; plummeting harshly to the ground. I barely had time to get to my feet, much less remove the arrow and bind my wounds before three archers came running with their weapons at the ready. 

'Stand down, creature.' They called in bold voices, but I could read the fear in their eyes like poetry; they were terrified, and I found that beautiful. 

'Nay, fiends. Why should I bow down to my assailants? If you want me, you'll have to come and get me...'

...A Flight of Fancy... 

A Flight of Fancy II

A Flight of Fancy II

Janelle Spiers

The Flight Of Fancy: A Collection of Short Story Samples All Based On This Beginning Sentence...

"I turned around and was shocked to see..."

"I turned around and was shocked to see the slim figure of a girl standing in the doorway. 

'Surprise!' 

'Jillian?  But you weren't supposed to be here until Friday!'   

'That's what you thought.  I wanted to be home for your birthday.'  

Tears of joy sprang into my eyes as I beheld by best-friend with a mixture of disbelief and extreme thrill. Her short red hair contrasted nicely with the black tank-top she wore and I hugged her tightly.  Stylish but sweet, that was my Jillian.  

'Oh, you don't know how much I've missed you.' 

'Oh, you bet I do!' 

'Oh, no you don't!' I cried. 

'Oh, you bet...' she paused, 'never mind.' 

I was surprised once again.  This didn't seem like my Jillian; she would never have given up an argument when I saw her last.  What was wrong with my friend? ..."

"I turned around and was shocked to see a huge winged horse floating gracefully in the air.  She flapped her silvery pinions and the air blew past me with a sweet aroma.  All about her in the sky were others, giant pegasus' floating in the among the clouds. 

'Do you like them?' 

I turned to my guide and nodded, because I felt that I could not speak in such a present time.   

Her face was glittery as she laughed, 'Oh, good.  The Trey Father will be very pleased to know that you admire his livestock. Now please, come this way."   

I followed the gliding girl down the winding stair that we had scaled to see the beautiful creatures.  The descent felt much shorter than the climb and I was not so nearly out of breath when we reached the bottom.  The emerald roof glittered like the maiden's hair and I wished that I could float like she did.  

'You will not be able to meet the Trey Father, until you have passed the three Trials of Knowledge.  If you pass, then you will be admitted into his presence.' 

'What are the three trials?' I asked with some nervousness. I had never been good at tests. 

'First, you must evaluate the character of the Wingdu, second, you must determine the photonesis of a living Vefre, and third, you must state your philosophy on Firet breeding.  If you are correct in your evaluation and determination, and have made a reasonable philosophical statement, then you will be allowed to sit at the feet of the great Trey Father. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat.  I had failed already."

"I turned around and was shocked to see Jesse James McFlavitt coming out of the Hokey Pokey Saloon; I had been looking for him for twelve years, sure as the whiskers on my chin.  I drew my gun and said, 'Stop you two-faced varmint, or I'll stick you full of lead.' 

That one eyed good-for-nothin' spit his tobacco in the street and shouted loudly, 'Wesley Owens?  Is that you, you old rascal?' 

'It's me, all right.' I hollered.  'Now draw your pistol, or I'll draw your blood!' 

J.J. McFlavitt pulled out a shiny Oliver McGuffery .65 Platinum, newly cleaned and polished.  I was feeling a bit nervous by his choice of weapon, but a cowpoke don't never back down in a fight. 

'Twenty paces.  It's fightin' time, you yellow-livered maggot.' 

The sun was high and mighty in the sky as it shown down on Spooksville.  I pointed 'Ol Green at J.J. McFlavitt's scaly rat-face and the showdown began... "

  

... A Flight of Fancy...

Unintentional Success

Unintentional Success

Original Poem Written 

 By Janelle Spiers  

Dedicated to Lauren Spiers

I'm trying to write a poem,

But I don't know what to say.

I thought it ought to be profound,

Someone lost has now been found,

Or maybe something really sweet;

In a blissful glen two lovers meet.

Perhaps I'd write about a fight,

With bloodshed in the dark of night.

Or, I could write about a fawn,

A little doe out on the lawn.

But that wouldn't work, no indeed,

'Cause I can't find the words I need.

I wish there were a simpler route

To make my brain know what to say.

I'm so indebted to the guy

Who decided, by and by,

To make a button called, 'delete'

So I can have a new blank sheet.

Where are all the words inside

This funny little head of mine?

Where are all the useful rhymes?

They come and go at random times!

I don' know just what to say,

but, I'll keep trying, every day.

Yes, someday, I will write a poem,

Someday, I'll know what to say!

I'll write about a valiant knight

Who saves his damsel dressed in white.

Or a touching sonnet about love

The gentle beauty from above. 

I'm trying to write a poem, 

Though I don't know what to say. 

I'm wracking my brain,

And it is such a pain,

I'm trying to write a ... hey!

I think I wrote a poem anyway. 

A Flight of Fancy

A Flight of Fancy

Janelle Spiers

The Flight Of Fancy: A Collection of Short Story Samples All Based On This Beginning Sentence...

"The rain continued to pour steadily, and I was getting sick of it."

The rain continued to pour steadily, and I was getting sick of it.  Grandmother's home was comfortable enough and was by no means unpleasant, but I was longing for a chance to stretch my legs and run around without danger of breaking an antique tea-set.  "Billy," Grandmother said with a dull tap of her cane on the wooden floor, "come sit beside the fire and read to me." 

I swung my legs wildly from where they dangled over the side of the sofa.  I was too short to reach the floor, and the distance between hard ground and my feet was a bit alarming when trying to get down.   

"Must I, Grandmother?"  I asked.  I liked the whispering sound my teeth made when I said, s. I had just lost a tooth and the hole was pleasurable for a seven-year-old to explore with his tongue.   

My Grandmother rapped on the floor again, "Yes, child.  You might as well come do something instructive and worth your young hours until the rain subsides." 

I looked at the distance between the floor and my stockinged feet.  I was going to have to jump and I prayed a little honest prayer to God, asking for his protection from splinters.  I screwed up my mouth, squeezed my eyes shut, and launched myself off the sofa.

The rain continued to pour steadily, and I was getting sick of it.  No, sick was not the right word.  Oh, poor me! I couldn't think of the word I wanted, I was too wet and shivery. I whimpered mournfully as the rain splashed onto my nose. If only Tony would have patched the roof last Saturday like he was told to.  I had overheard Mom tell Tony to, 'Fix the doghouse roof. It's got holes in it and it's supposed to rain this week.'

But Tony didn't do it, and now I suffer. Oh, poor me! The rain kept splashing onto my quivering black nose and I couldn't shake it off inside the doghouse. I made up my quaking courage to go to the Big House and see if Mom would let me in.

The rain fell harder and faster when I scooted through the mud, oh me!  All of the little drops were making me feel so sad. I climbed up to the porch and scratched at the door with timid wetness.  Mud streaked on the door, oh, poor me!  I made a mess and was likely to 'get it!' like I always do. But suddenly the door opened and Sophie stood waggling her little golden braids and chewing on fruit. My poor stomach growled like the thunder.  

 "Mom!" Screamed Sophie, "Julius is trying to get inside!"

Mom came to the door with a towel in her hand, drying a human dog-bowl, all white and shiny.  "Julius, go lay down."  She pointed with her hand towards the leaky doghouse.  Oh, poor me! I couldn't go back!

"The rain continued to pour steadily, and I was getting sick of it."  Ruth-Ann put the page down. "What do you think of that?"

Dexter pushed his glasses back up on his nose and said with knowing air, "No, no, no. It needs more drama.  More thrust!"

A nub of pencil flew over the page with extreme rapidity.  Ruth-Ann adjusted her scarf, cleared her throat, and said, "The torrent continued to pour violently, and I was feeling ill."

"No, no, no!" Dexter sighed.  He snatched the paper with a superior flourish and took up his pen.  After a few moments of tense silence, he spoke clearly and loudly, "The cloudburst on the northern horizon persisted to gush from the heavens with staunch fervor, and as for myself, I was becoming weary of such torrential rain."

Ruth-Ann wrinkled her nose. "I don't think that it sounds quite right for a children's picture book."

"Of course it does," Dexter said with a pompous wave of his hand. "I know exactly what children want, and this is what they want!"