time in the hole

He paced his cell to burn the surge of energy coursing through his body.  He was agitated and antsy and knew he would go mad if he didn’t do something to channel all that energy.  So, back and forth he went.

He didn’t mind the darkness, he’d spent time in solitary confinement before and his eyes quickly adapted to the absence of light.  He didn’t mind the solitude either.  People, on the whole, tended to irritate him.  That’s how he had ended up in his cell in the first place.

But, the walls, the cage, the bars, he minded a great deal.  He suffered from claustrophobia and the feeling of being trapped weighed heavily upon him.  It got his adrenaline pumping.  It got his blood surging.  Hence, the pacing.

After what had seemed like weeks, days spent doing nothing but walking, not sleeping, not resting, just moving around his cell to unleash his energy, his jailor came to check on him.  The door cracked open and a sliver of light poured into his cell, casting a shadow on the floor to match the silhouette at the cage’s opening.

“Honey, it’s been 30 minutes.  Have you calmed down?  Have you thought about what you did wrong?”

He stuck his tongue out at her.  He knew that would mean more time in the hole, but he couldn’t help it.  No, he hadn’t calmed down.  No, he hadn’t thought about what he had done wrong.  And, no, he wasn’t ready to do either of those things.l

The jailor shook her head and sighed as she shut the door to his room, leaving him alone in the darkness once again.  His time in solitary would be extended by at least another 30 minutes.  Hard time, and easy time.  The pacing would continue and so would his fight against the creeping madness.

In the end he would be released, but before he had apologized for pulling his sister’s hair and promised to behave, he would once again relish her scream of pain.  He smiled in the darkness.  His little feet carried him in circles around his room.


Hooray for another silly Inspiration Monday prompt and post:


The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.


No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:


a scarred wall

“But, they are ugly,” Julia fumed, slamming her foot down for emphasis.  Her tiny hands curled at her hips and her lower lip seemed to protrude much further than should have been possible for someone so small.

“Oh, honey, when you are older perhaps you will change your mind.”

Julia’s glare was the only response her mother received.

“It’s how we tracked my growth, too.  And my mother’s before me.  It’s a tradition that has been passed down for many generations.  Think of what that means.  Think of what you are now a part of.”

Julia was not swayed.  She loved her purple walls exactly as they were: purple, unblemished, and perfect.  The graphite etchings from her mom’s pencil, height and date, stood out hideously against the rest of the brilliant hue.

“They are like scars.  Horrible.  Ugly.  Scars.”

Julia’s mom sighed and smiled, “Yes, darling, a history in scars.  Those often lead to the best stories.  Trust me.”

The little girl looked from her mom to the blemish on her wall and frowned.  She wanted to trust her mom, but she couldn’t get passed the defilement of her beautiful painted walls.  She shook her head, her pig-tails bouncing back and forth, and pouted further.

Seeing her daughter distress over something so trivial brought a smile to Julia’s mom’s face.  Julia would grow, and in time, she would understand the importance of those marks.  In time she would learn that the world is perfect, and there is plenty of beauty to be found in mistakes, blemishes, and scars.

“Come along, little miss frowny, and let’s see if we can find some ice cream to put a smile back on your face.  What do you say?”

Julia looked up at her mom hopefully, without having forgotten the injustice of what had just occurred in her room.  The frown did disappear, though, and her eyes lit up with equal parts mischief and giddiness.  A small smile appeared at the corner of her lips and she couldn’t keep from bobbing her head up and down.  Ice cream would definitely turn the situation around.


This bit of silliness brought to you in response to one of this week’s prompt words from the Inspiration Monday Writing Challenge:


The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.


No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:


a letter from my son at six months old

Dear Daddy,

I’m not sure I’m going to call you daddy when I find my voice.  I may go with dad, or da, or pops, or father-o-mine, or daddy-o.  Daddy will work for now though.

I see that you and Mommy are doing your best to comfort me, play with me, and teach me.  I appreciate all of your efforts, that’s why you get as many smiles and giggles as you do.  I figure the learning thing will become a lot easier for all of us when I learn how to do that talking thing you and mom excel at.

I hear the kitties talking too, but their words seem different, and I hardly ever hear you and mom use the same ones.  Sometimes you do, but I get the feeling you do it just to be silly.  Yes, I can already tell that you are very silly.  I like that about you.

I’m sorry that I scream when you change my diapers.  I wish I could help you understand why I do that.  I wish I understood why I do that too.  I think it has something to do with being confined to my back and I don’t understand why no one else has to lay down to get dressed.  I just want to help.  Don’t worry, I’ll keep trying and we’ll figure it out eventually.  I do have to say, though, my diapers are much cooler than yours.

I can see that you worry about me, especially when I’m being extra fussy.  You are usually right that it’s just my gums hurting.  These teeth things are annoying.  I don’t understand them either.  I know they will be useful one day, but I don’t need them yet.  I appreciate your concern, and you don’t have to worry as much as you do.  I’ll be okay.

Thank you for walking me around and taking little steps with me.  Thank you for making funny faces and playing peek-a-boo.  Thank you for showing me the soccer ball and letting me chase it and you all around the play room.  Thank you for taking me on adventures with you: the beach, Maine, the beach again, camping, the beach.  I like the beach.  I know I’ll like it even more when I’m older.

My first six months have been very good, and I know a lot of that is because of what you and Mommy do for me every day.  I can’t wait to see what the next six months will be like.

I love you,

The Little Prince

PS – What’s a birthday party?  I think I’m really going to like it and that thing called “cake.”

A letter to my son at six months old

Little Prince,

Milestones?  Those are more just a set of guidelines, right?  (One day you’ll see this for the movie reference it is and you’ll role your eyes at me, “Dad, must everything have a movie quote with it?”  Yes, that’s the way I am.)  We don’t need Milestones.  You, my darling Little Prince, certainly don’t need them.

Five?  That’s the number of teeth you already have, nearly one for every month you’ve been alive.  You aren’t supposed to have any yet.  There they are.  Five little chomper bound and determined to chew, gnaw, bite on everything.  Everything.

Rolling over, both ways, both sides?  That’s an old trick, you’ve been doing that for so long you aren’t even phased by it anymore.  We put you on your back to change your diaper and you are onto your stomach before we can unclasp the dirty one you are in.  We put you on your stomach and you’ll happily roll away, giggling the whole time.

Crawling?  You don’t just crawl, you speed race across the floor when zeroed in on the toy you want, or the queen, or one of the cats.  From across the room into your mouth in seconds flat.  I swear I heard you break the sound barrier once.  Or, perhaps, that was just something getting knocked out of your way as you chased after the Queen.  You follow her around, watching her every movement, and when you can you crawl after her.  The cuteness breaks my heart.

Sitting on your own?  Sure.  That’s easy.  You can even sit and twist and turn and shove things in your mouth without falling over anymore, much to the Queen’s delight since she was growing weary of worrying about you falling on your head.  I guess I was worried too, and still worry when I see you sitting near the tile floor or the coffee table or any of the other things that aren’t quite baby-proofed yet.  But, I’m so proud of you, and when you look up from your toy and see me smiling at you, you smile back.  It’s amazing.

You can pull yourself up to standing too?  Why not?  You’ve gotten everything else figured out ahead of schedule.  So, go ahead, pull yourself up on your crib, on the couch, on me…  and then dream of what comes next.  You already know how to move your feet.  You know you’ll be walking soon.   I can see that glint of mischief in your eyes.  I can see you figuring out how to get your prize.  I can see the gears turning, that you are learning, for that first step yearning.

It will be yours before the Queen and I are ready.  That isn’t your concern though.  We will just keep doing our best to adapt with you as you grow and learn and exceed all of our expectations.  And please be patient with us when you hear us jokingly ask if you wouldn’t mind stopping for a bit – no more growing, no more learning, no more milestones surpassed way ahead of schedule.  We are joking.  We are so proud.  But, we already miss the infant you were, the faces, the noises, and you are growing so fast you seem to out grow each new trick as quickly as we’ve gotten used to spotting it.

That’s okay though, as I said before that’s not for you to worry about.  You keep being you, and we will keep doing our best.

I love you son,