the battle

The Prince strode confidently to the field of battle and stared into the endless stretch of darkness that rose to meet him.  He had fought this faceless foe before, many times, without victory but he was undeterred.  He would fight on again and again regardless of the outcome because it was his nature to do so.  No retreat.  No surrender.

His parents, his guardians and fiercest supporters, urged him forward.  They wanted him to meet the enemy head on, and while he was confused by their desire to see him enter the fray so frequently, he trusted they wouldn’t let him come to any true harm.  He hoped, in time, he would understand their motives.

With one last look into each of their faces for confirmation that they once again wished him to meet the encroaching darkness, and receiving nods of assent, he pulled forth Scream, his mightiest weapon, and hurled himself into the clutches of the evil foe.

The darkness clutched at him and he used Scream to fend it off.  Brandishing the weapon to the left and to the right, tensing his muscles, throwing every ounce of his strength into his counterattacks, he managed to hold his ground for a long time.  His parents sang songs of his ancestors, encouraging him, lending him resolve and calming his nerves.  He fed off that energy and his battle gained momentum, for a change he was fairing better against his nemesis.

But, the longer the battle raged, the more tired he grew.  Scream became unwieldy and difficult to control.  His muscles weakened.  His eyelids grew heavy.  The cool clutches of the darkness recognized its chance to pounce and quickly conquered the young hero.

In the background his parents sighed with relief, kissed his little forehead, and wished him sweet dreams.

Special Guest: Matticus and The Little Prince’s Playlist

Sheena is a … Well, she may or may not be a punk rocker, but she is awesome and you can find me today guest blogging over in her piece of the blogosphere. I wax philosophical about the power of music and parenting. Either that, or, it is a bunch of a silly. Regardless, you should click over and check it out!

in the middle of the night

I’m awake again.  Why am I awake again?  It’s dark.  It’s very dark.  I can sense that mom and dad are nearby but they aren’t moving.  I hope they are okay.  What if they aren’t?  That.  Would.  Be.  Terrible!

*whimper whimper*

Oh, okay they are stirring, so they are okay.  But, they still aren’t awake.  And I’m still awake.  Why am I awake?  Why aren’t they awake?  Something must be wrong.  Something must be horribly awfully wrong!


Oh, they are okay.  Mom is comforting me now.  And Dad has rolled over completely so he’s okay too.  And they are both awake.  That’s good.  Everything is good.  I feel okay now.  I’m not sure why I’m awake.  I guess I could go back to sleep.  Maybe I’ll just close my eyes again…


Uh oh.  The little hairless kitty is awake again.  How come the two big hairless cats aren’t better at telling when he is awake.  I can tell.  I know my sister can tell too.  I think the big hairless cat that pets us can almost sense when he wakes up, but not like we can.  The big hairless cat that feeds us is pretty much useless.  But, he’s always up first, and he always makes sure we have food and clean water, so I guess he’s not entirely worthless.

Though, if one of them doesn’t wake up soon, the little hairless kitty is going to start screaming.  He has already started squirming and making that weird mewing sound.  He sure doesn’t sound like a cat.  But, then neither do the big cats most of the time.  But, that’s off point.  One of them needs to get up now, or…  Too late.  There he goes.



*licking paws*

*slinking off the bed to disappear into the darkness*

I think I’ll find someplace else to sleep for a bit.  I’ll come back so I can snuggle up with the big hairless cats again after they get the little one settled down and sleeping again.  I wonder where my sister is?  Maybe I should go find her.


This bit of silliness brought to you in part by the Weekly Writing Challenge, my ten month old son, and one of my two cats.  The challenge this week was to “consider things from a different point of view — to walk a mile in someone’s shoes. Leave your moccasins and bunny slippers at the door, and tell us a tale from a fully-immersed perspective that is not your own.”

I opted to tackle the challenge using a combination of two of the suggested prompts: I picked a family member (or two) and went with split perspectives.  I probably went a bit sillier with the whole thing than was being asked for, as I didn’t really dive all that deep into how my characters view the world around them.  But, I did offer a glimpse into how they could see the very specific occasion of my son waking up the house in the middle of the night.  So, hopefully it’s close enough that nobody will call me on it.

What about you?  Did you link up to this week’s writing challenge?  Are you normally adept at seeing things in your life from different perspectives?  Do you think I stayed within the guidelines of the challenge?

a cry unleashed

A faint cry rolled through the room, like thunder through a valley,
To take a quick glance towards the clock, my strength I needed to rally.
Once confirmed, my deepest fears were true, I steeled myself for the cold,
Only an hour and a half had passed since last his voice had been so bold,
Sweet little prince, hungry again and needing a change,
His cries over several octaves did range,
Threw back the covers from their place,
And over to his side I did race,
Where I pulled him into my arms lovingly,
And sang to him words so soothingly.
My son, my son, whatever is the matter,
You don’t need to shout with such a forceful clatter,
We’re right here, next to where you sleep,
And never do we dream so deep,
That’d we missed coming to your aid,
That is a truth of the finest grade.
Calm your voice, and your heart,
Take a breath, we shall never part.
Yet the screams continue throughout the swap,
The only way I can help, I’m just the pop,
Then freshly dressed I hand you over to the queen,
And your eyes get the widest I’ve ever seen,
Your cries cut short, you are happy once more,
Food, you needed, and there is plenty in store.
Then back to sleep, rest your tiny little head,
The queen and I return to our own bed,
And wait to hear you return to your slumber,
Sometimes you snore like saws at the lumber,
But we know that even when you do finally nod off,
The next wake-up call is never too far off.
That’s okay, we wouldn’t change a thing.

Until then, sleep, my sweet little prince…