Oh, Sylvia

"The Heart"

by Alfredo Caceres

Every good story has two versions. Which would you prefer to hear, dear reader?

One.
Sylvia finally found love and...

Two. 
Sylvia took the scoundrel's beating heart and...

Birds of One Feather

Artist Unknown

Phineas woke up one Fall morning

To find the leaves turned brown and withered

He donned a sweater and a scarf

And human hands to keep him warm

At the wharf, he met a sage

Handless, hairless, and lined with age

"Fortune, fortune, will I read,"

Cried the sage, to mislead

Chirping and whirring with delight

Phineas agreed to pay any price

The sage raised his stumps, a dark, dark blight

And looked askance at Phineas, twice

"Fortune, fortune will I read,

For your warm mittens and a bead,"

The sage was sly, and Phineas simple

A devil's deal...if 'twere not for Kimpel

 Kimpel the Fisherman, young and wise

Had made a pledge to his mother dear

To protect the innocent from false scries

For to one, she lost her heart sincere

Throwing aside his fisher's creel,

A strong, firm hand did Kimpel use

To halt the lies, the steal, the deal

And stop a most unfortunate ruse

Cries and howls, unholy to hear

The sage let loose with a single tear

Phineas, simple and kind at heart

With his mittens did he gladly part

Alarmed by kindness, the sage did pause

As the cold shriveled the boy's poor claws

"Ye are good," the sage did say,

"I am changed, from this 'ere day."

Kimpel assessed and judged and nodded

Truth was told, redemption awarded

So the boy, the sage, and the fisherman together

Became fast friends, Birds of One Feather

The Lonely Year

Artist Unknown

I was rooted.  All my life, rooted to the ground.

I watched my leaves break off, fly or fall, and leave me.

I watched the birds on my branches, flock and fly, and leave me.

I watched my brothers cut down, uprooted and stolen, and leave me.

I was filled with this unnameable desire, to leave this ground

that felt lonelier and lonelier

every year.

So, every day, I worked my roots out of the ground, little by little.

It took me years, and with every ring that grew around my bark,

the ground released me inch by inch.

I grew taller and older, lonelier and lonelier,

but shook the earth from me, day by day.

Until one day, my roots tore free.

Now, I am free to leave.

I am free to follow my leaves.

I am free to follow the birds.

I am free to wander the earth.

I am free to be rootless.

Best Intentions

This blog is begun with the best intentions. Its purpose is to introduce me to the world, which is both thrilling and embarrassing.

I am, like so many others, an aspiring writer. I am too narrowly focused, too lazy, too respectful, too passionate, too [fill in the blank] to research trends. I write what I like, and I try to write without fear. And there's a lot of hope that readers will enjoy my work for what it is - good old-fashioned storytelling.

A few of my other blogs have died quiet deaths. So, like any good human, I'm going to harvest some of my old posts, stitch them onto this blog, and resurrect them here. I hope they go on to live long, prosperous lives.

I look forward to getting to know you, readers and fellow authors. And I hope you enjoy getting to know me.