Posted on 3 Comments on Flash Fiction Friday #37: Une Nuit Dans Les Bois

Flash Fiction Friday #37: Une Nuit Dans Les Bois

 “They just don’t respect us any more, Anansi. Hunters come and go as they please, and they don’t tell the stories like they used to. Ask the children who Papa Bois is and they think is some guava switch to jumbie them into behaving good in school!” His leafy beard rustled as he shook his head.
 “You complain, Bouchon, but at least they talk of you. You know who they replaced me with? That stinkin’ Brer Rabbit. A rabbit! What part of Anansi the Spider-man did they miss? Cho, thinking about all that foolishness have me irate. You have any pear to calm me down in this big old forest of yours Père Bois?”
 Pears?” Papa Bois asked in confusion. “I can’t really leave the forest in this condition.” He glanced to his pair of cloven feet.
 “Not dat kind of pear, man. Avocado pear, what unno call it around here? Zaboca.”
“Ah,” sounded Papa Bois. He snapped his fingers, and the two old men peered into the darkness of the woods. 
 The rotting leaves of the forest floor quieted the backward footsteps of the small childlike creature that delivered the dark green avocado to the pair. He tipped his brimmed hat at the gentlemen, then disappeared back into the thicket. Anansi gave an exaggerated shudder. “Dem douen always disturbed me. I don’t know how you take care of them.”
Papa Bois sighed. “I don’t like them either. And I leave the minding to Mama D’leau. They like the water anyway.”
He tossed a small hunting knife to Anansi, who caught it deftly and began to pare his avocado.
 “How did you get here anyway? Surely not by flying, I know you don’t like to go any higher than a coconut tree,” asked Papa Bois.
 “I have my ways,” said Anansi mysteriously, pausing for a moment, then laughing boisterously. “No, I came in by boat, then took a taxi in from the pier. And the taxi driver made sure I wasn’t going to hunt.” Anansi cleared his throat and continued in an impeccable Trinidadian accent, “Doh try an hunt out of season eh, ‘cause Papa Bois go well do fuh yuh. I had a breddren who-”
 “Yes, yes I know. He had a ‘breddren’ who I caught and punished,” interrupted Papa Bois with a chuckle.
 “You see Bouchon? They didn’t forget us completely yet. Now eat some zaboca and enjoy the night.” 
Posted on 1 Comment on Flash Fiction Friday #35: Rites Of Passage

Flash Fiction Friday #35: Rites Of Passage

First fff written for the new year. (not the first given eh… this one is a good 2 and half weeks old…. but it was hard to find something that wasn’t dirty.…)

 “Drink it nah boy!”
Jason hesitated. The clear liquid in the purple plastic cup stank. In fact, it smelled almost exactly like the methylated spirits his mother had used to clean his grazed knees last month. The same mother who would deliver the spanking, no, it was safe to say he would receive a cut-ass for this, if she found out what he was doing now.
 It all begun when Kwasi, the eldest of their group, decided, thanks to his older brother, that alcohol was what really separated boys from men. So the vodka had been borrowed from someone’s liquor cabinet, and Jason did his part by bringing the plastic cups he knew his mother wouldn’t miss.
 “Yuh ‘fraid or what?” someone goaded.
That was enough. Jason drank it down in one gulp to the whoops and hollers of his friends. The cup was refilled and passed to the next boy, and Jason was once more secure in their ranks, until some new stipulation of manhood was discovered.
Posted on No Comments on Fruition

Fruition

(Clearly i’m on a roll today! must be the no sleep).

The words form like fruit in the tree of the mind,
If left too long, the birds of distraction
Peck away, leaving only, and even then
Only perhaps, a husk to make more fertile grounds.
Pick it too soon and hope against hope
As you force it to ripen that comes out right,
But the skin is too green and the flavor is wrong,
Though sometimes you can catch it at
Just the right time, and nurture it in a
Paper bag, and when it is ready,
Even through the slight tartness,
You can barely tell the difference.
And sometimes, the fruit falls,
Perfect in it’s form, succulent in
Its cadence, from the tree of the
Mind, directly to the mouth.
Posted on No Comments on Insomnia

Insomnia

They promised that insomnia
Would bring words
Like long awaited rain,
But instead it
Keeps you awake too late
With your distractions
And makes you miss your thoughts,
Then sleep long enough
For the days
To seem one.
Insomnia only brings
Diversions,
Frivolity
And agitation,
And when that
Wears you out,
A sleep too black
For thought to thrive.
Insomnia doesn’t bring rain;
It is the storm grey
Cloud that teases
And threatens,
Then flitters away
Whispering promises
To come another day.
Posted on No Comments on Tricks

Tricks

i’m really not amused. must this really be the theme of my first piece of the year? sigh. also, i’ve added a like button to all content. feel free to use 🙂


I know your secret.
You wait until the taste
Of you has 
All but faded
To spring forth
And remind me
That you’re still there,
To make sure
I never forget.
I know your trick,
But that doesn’t
Mean I don’t
Fall for it every time.
Posted on 3 Comments on Tabanca

Tabanca

I have a tabanca.
I miss the warmth,
The sunshine,
The shade of green,
I miss the freedom that comes
With knowing exactly where you’re going
‘Cause is there you born and raise,
I miss the kiskadee song in the day
And the cricket chorus at night.
I miss the twelve hours of sun,
I miss the sno cone,
I miss the red mango.
I miss the soca
And the piccong,
I miss St James 
And the way it’s
Never at rest.
I miss the view
Of the city from
Lady Young Road,
I miss the renegade
Poui trees that decide
Now is the time to bloom,
I miss the hibiscus.
I miss the way
You know Christmas coming
Due to the smell of paint
And the new curtains,
I miss the sound of rain
On a galvanize roof,
I miss home.
Posted on 2 Comments on Flash Fiction Friday #34: The Traveller

Flash Fiction Friday #34: The Traveller

So i decided to play a lil ambitious with this one, i wanted to get an epic poem feel, then i kinda didn’t feel like settling down to write, hence the delay. not sure if i’m completely satisfied with the end result, but i certainly don’t hate it.
i could have gone subtle with the words but i decided against it.

The traveller had been warned against this route
Though it promised to be quicker.
Brave,
Strong,
Could survive anything
that was thrown at him,
Was his boast,
Though the weariness that licked his feet,
The hunger, his belly,
And the cold, his back,
Threatened to prove him wrong.
Before he could regret his pride,
In the distance appeared a light,
Luck was still at his side.
He made it to the door
and knocked thrice upon it.
It was opened to reveal
A kindly old widower
Who offered,
In return for his company,
Free lodging and even fare for the night.
Once inside and warm,
With promises of food to follow,
Our traveller settled to listen
To the old man’s yarn.
He spoke quite fondly
Of days that had been too long past,
And lovers long dead,
And the ways things 
Should have turned out instead.
When the traveller received
His warm meat
And cold ale,
He proposed a toast
To warm feet,
A good roast,
And goodwill to all men.
When our traveller awoke
By the light of the dawn,
His benevolent host
Was no where to be found.
The room was far less attractive
Without the light of the fire,
And the hearth seemed
Too cold for a flame
Only hours expired.
Nonetheless he gathered
His effects and dusted his coat,
And continued his journey
To where he was bound.
Only when he was
Well along his way
Did it occur for him to wonder,
That perhaps his host wasn’t human,
Perhaps his host was a ghost.