Tales on Tuesday...Speed Racing

I laughed along with the grinding gears. The car was jolting along the small road. I took my hands off the wheel.
'Whooohoooo!'
I drove with my knees, giggling every time I narrowly missed a bush or rounded a sharp curve.
The car leaped over hills like a stallion. It shuddered with every breath I took
I shouted wildly, raising my arm out the window.
Whap!
A tree branch hit my arm. I heard a sharp sound. My arm burned with pain. I swore under my breath, then out loud.
I twisted my head to examine my arm, which was hanging listlessly out the window.
Bam!
The car heaved with impact. I remembered too late the seatbelt I was sitting on.`My body rose into the air, and I felt the car turning around me. I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, I was staring into the face of a dead dog. His eyes were foamy, and between his teeth my shirt was clamped tightly. The wreck of my car was a few yards away.
I relaxed into the sound of sirens.


This is a Tales on Tuesday post.

Tales on Tuesday...Leave it to Beaver

a big lake where once a river
forest dowsed in water up to its knees
ground mammals bloated and float away dead
and birds of the trees stay in the leaves
down where the lake begins, a dam
carefully moulded and patted and stuck
with mud and gook and gloop and glop
and the lake begins at the dam,
the animals cry because of the dam
and one looks for praise, for he built it
"Away! away!", the animals cry at him,
then sigh 'Leave it to beaver...'


This is a Tales on Tuesday post. 

Tales on Tuesday...My Favourite Martian

The easiest way to hide an alien would be to leave it in Times Square. So it's said.
So there I was. People saw me, but they walked on. Because when people see something strange, but those around them are not reacting, they do not react either. They deceive themselves into not seeing me.
Perhaps the most wondered alien question is 'what do aliens look like?' Well I ask, what do people look like?
People are strange creature, and not one alike, though some more than others. So it is with aliens. We have different races too; there is not just one other alien race besides humanity, like it is true that
there is not just one other skin colour besides 'whites.'
Aliens are portrayed as kindly or evil, but usually understandable. How is it that you can understand an alien but not a Asian? Ha! Because it is not true, they do not speak your language, nor do we. But just like perhaps if you listened to a conversation in Mandarin, you would get some picture of it, you can listen to aliens and get a picture of us.
Who said we even speak? We might be advanced farther than you in communication, no need for words. Aliens are always either ahead or way behind you, what if we are on the same page?
Perhaps those you call 'aliens' have really travelled in time from your own world many years in the future or past, so that you think they are foreign. Is it not true that sometimes advanced science could be considered 'magic' to observers? So that something almost incomprehensibly different could be considered 'alien?'
Think on this earthlings, as I stand among you. As you pass by me. And think...could this have happened before? Could it have changed the world? Could something not understood have resulted in a suspension of disbelief so vast that it changed history? Made a man into a god?
Think on this earthlings as you live your lives and pass me by. Just because you do not understand me does not mean I am not what I am. I am what I am. And you have no power over my essence, my core, my reason to exist. You can lie about it, make it up, but I will not be changed.
I stand among you today different, equal, unnoticed. But tomorrow I could be immortal. Think carefully earthlings before you immortalise me, before my story becomes a fable for generations after you. I will stand here and you will pass, but all it takes is one notice and I will become legend.
Do you want that earthlings? Keep walking as you have walked past all those of my kind who preceded me. Keep walking, but you will never escape. Don't look me in the eye, I am different, I am scary. Don't read my sign, don't drop a coin in my hat. It won't matter in the end. Not for you.


Note: Feel free to read more into this than is there, but please don't take offence. It's just my opinion, and it doesn't mean I share every sentiment in it either.

This is a Tales on Tuesday post.

Tales on Tuesday...All in the Family

I missed last week's Tales on Tuesday, but it's now posted below this post, so have a look at it if you will ;)


Mum was a petty thief, and Johnny was a burglar.
Daddy was a pick-pocket and Susy was a hustler.
Billy was an arsonist and Sonny was a mugger.
Lucy committed insurance fraud and Rose-Beth stole credit card details.
Me? I was law-abiding.
But now I'm an orphan. They're all dead and I'm silent.
But if you lean closer, I'll tell you where I buried them.
Shh.



Short but (not) sweet. I found this week's prompt rather difficult I must admit.

This is a Tales on Tuesday post.

Tales on Tuesday...Invisible Man

Walking behind her yesterday, watching and listening as she insulted them.
Tomorrow she confessed to embezzlement.
Maybe it wasn't her fault, it doesn't matter, no one will know.
It wasn't her fault she says again next week, it was them.
Always them, she says with venom on Saturday.
And she buys a new dress on Sunday, comes to work in a new car Monday.
On Tuesday she is fired.
Why? she asks them (it wasn't her fault after all).
They say goodbye.
Wednesday she is in bed with a hangover (not her fault)
Thursday she complains all day.
Friday he leaves with a note.
My darling wife, you had time for everything. For work, for buying clothes, for parties and pubs. But you never had time for me. I walked behind you all the time. 
You gave me a job as your assistant. I earned a third as much as you and you rubbed it in and refused to pay for for "husband" things like the electricity. You complained about your bosses, you stole money, and you gave the dirty work to me. When my anniversary gift for you wasn't as elaborate as yours for me (but surely was more heartfelt) you sulked. 
All this I dealt with. But your final insult? You didn't give me any of the money you stole.
I sole that money. You thought up a great idea, but who actually went about it? That was me darling. So I told your bosses, said I would retire willingly (so you would get the blame).
Now I'm leaving (where you can't find me) so don't cry any crocodile tears for me as you look at your bank account (empty) and the garage (empty) and the silver press (also empty). And if you are surprised by the Townshends, don't be, they've bought the house. 
So, I guess you wish maybe you had made time for me. Maybe you wish you could go back. Don't be sorry darling, it was a pleasure. 
I was your shadow, your invisible man. No regrets, isn't that what you said? Truthfully, I have none.
But I bet you do.

This is a Tales on Tuesday post. 

Tales on Tuesday...Golden Girls

We look down at the ground.
'Angels,' she whispers and it sounds like the wind.
The city is golden around us, lights sparkling like a Christmas tree.
'Angels,' I echo, glancing at the sky. It's a cloudy midnight, but the city's light pollution makes it dusk-like. 'In the country it would be pitch black tonight,' I say.
'Mmm.'
I follow her line of sight. We are nineteen stories up, would be higher but they aren't built yet. I am tired from scaling the aluminium ladders at opposite ends of the scaffolding, and my hands are cold from the frigid metal.
Below us, maybe there are people. I can't see any, even when I look where she is looking.
'What do you see?' I ask quietly.
She doesn't answer right away. 'We're like angels, Jenny. Looking down on everyone from Heaven.'
I glance at her, unable to read her thoughts.
She looks up. 'Angels in the clouds, just waiting to come down to earth.'
'Marsha?'
'Yes?'
'We aren't angels.'
She turns away abruptly. ' Just waiting.'
'We aren't angels Marsha.'
'Down to earth...'
'Marsha!'
She has stepped off the edge of the building.
'Marsha?' I shriek.
'Jenny?'
'Marsha, where are you?' I run to the edge and look down.
'I changed my mind,' she mumbles.
Her hand is turning white from clutching the building.
'Here Marsha, grab my hand.' I reach out to her.
'I don't want to die, Jenny! I changed my mind.'
'I know, I know. Here take my hand.' I pull her back onto the metal framework.
I put my arm around her shoulder.
'Angels,' she whispers again. 'We were angels.'
'That's right,' I say. 'Genuine golden girls.'


This is a Tales on Tuesday post.