In the years of youth, where glances cling, She caught his eye, a moment's fling. With a smile so bright, it made him sing, She whispered softly, "Give me a ring."

He dialed her number, heart on a string, She picked up, on the very first ring. From that first "hello," love took its wing, A call that echoed, "Give me a ring."

Through summer, autumn, winter, and spring, They grew eager to see, what the future would bring. In laughter and life, their hearts would sing, Remembering those words, "Give me a ring."

Years went by, their love still keen, On a quiet night, beneath the moon’s soft gleam. She smiled once more, a familiar thing, With eyes full of love, "Give me a ring."

Down on one knee, with a diamond ring, He spoke his heart, "You're my everything." With tears of joy, to love they'd cling, Bound by one little phrase: "Give me a ring."

I did this for her.

  A complimentary collection of tulips and daffodils. They were a vibrant orange and purple, a rather unorthodox assortment, but beautiful. I wrapped them neatly in the old twine I discovered in my desk drawer. Between the hours of sunset and midnight we met on the course, the grass rolled out cleanly underneath us I gifted the bouquet. I still remember her sage eyes capturing mine that night, and how the starlight seemed to reflect off them.  

I did this for her.

    I was never much of a poet preceding her, until her intervention inspired me, where my internal thoughts seemed to flow onto the page. I wrote mounds of pieces for her, only a few making their way to her vision as I am flawed and imperfect. But she is not. 

I did this for her.

   I placed my new jacket in the seat on my right, patiently awaiting her arrival as I observed the crowd of people stepping around me, finding their positions in the audience. The lights dimmed and the music commenced. Perhaps she did not know what I did. 

I did this for her.

    I curated a container of muffins, each carefully handcrafted with fat blueberries bursting with flavor as you took a bite from it. I woke up early so as to keep them fresh and ripe so she will not be bothered by day-old breakfast. My phone stayed silent all day. It is possible she lost it between the couch cushions. 

I did this for her.

   Sending frantic messages to her. I am afraid her mind has taken over again. I cried, I pleaded for a response. I yearned for some sign. Maybe she wants nothing to do with me. 

I did this for her.

   I stayed up all of the darkness the earth offered. I attempted reading novels on my shelf, but all the characters were played by you.  

I did this for her.

   I saw him. I saw him standing there, his hands behind his back, his snobbish shoe impatiently tapping the ground. I saw him kiss you, I saw him lead you to his car. I saw him drive away down the street, while I stood alone. 

I did this for her.

   He resided in a nestled apartment on the west side of town. I bet he often takes you there, where you laugh at low-quality movies, as we once did. 

I did this for her.

  I cleaned up. I put the groceries away that he carried, the laundry spewed out everywhere, and bleached the floor well. I bet you don’t appreciate stained floors.

Once upon a time, in a small town called Homographville, there lived a mischievous little girl named Lily. Lily was known for her playful spirit and her knack for turning everyday situations into delightful adventures.

One sunny morning, Lily decided to visit the local bakery, which had just opened after a long renovation. The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted through the air, and her tummy rumbled with excitement. As she stepped inside, the cheerful baker greeted her with a warm smile.

"Now, what can I get you today, Lily?" he asked.

Lily looked at the colorful display of pastries and couldn't help but feel a little mischievous. "I'll have a roll, please," she said mischievously, pointing to a golden-brown roll on the shelf.

The baker chuckled and handed her a roll. "Here you go, dear. Enjoy!"

With the roll in hand, Lily skipped out of the bakery and made her way to the town park, where she loved to spend her afternoons. As she sat on a park bench, she noticed a flock of ducks waddling near the pond. Lily couldn't resist the opportunity for some fun.

She tore off a small piece of her roll and tossed it into the air, watching as the ducks quacked and scrambled to get their beaks on the treat. Lily giggled and repeated this act several times, each time the ducks eagerly chasing the morsels she threw.

The townspeople passing by couldn't help but stop and admire the joyful scene. They joined in the laughter and cheerfully commented, "Lily, you really know how to roll with the ducks!"

Inspired by their comments, Lily decided to take her mischievousness to the next level. She stood up, wiped the crumbs from her hands, and addressed the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for the grandest rolling prank of all time!"

Curiosity and excitement filled the air, and the townspeople eagerly gathered around Lily, waiting to discover what mischievous plan she had concocted.

Unbeknownst to the crowd, Lily had secretly invited the local skateboarders to the park for a grand parade. As the skaters rolled in one by one, they formed a large circle around Lily and the townspeople.

"Now, everyone, hold hands and let's form the human rolling wheel!" Lily exclaimed, grinning mischievously.

The townspeople, caught up in the infectious spirit of the moment, joined hands and created a human chain, forming a giant wheel that began to roll across the park. Laughter filled the air as the crowd of people rolled along, their feet barely touching the ground.

As the human wheel moved faster, the phrase "roll with" took on a whole new meaning. It was no longer about bread rolls or playful ducks; it symbolized the unity, camaraderie, and joy shared by the people of Homographville.

For hours on end, the townspeople laughed, rolled, and celebrated together. And in that moment, Lily knew that she had created something truly special. She had shown her town the power of playfulness, and how a simple phrase could bring people together.

As the sun finally set, the human rolling wheel came to a gentle stop. The townspeople cheered, clapping and hugging one another. Lily stepped forward, her mischievousness replaced with gratitude and pride. She looked around at the smiling faces and said, "Thank you all for rolling with me today. May our town forever be known as the place where people know how to roll with laughter, love, and joy!"

And from that day forward, whenever someone uttered the phrase "roll with," it wasn't just about bread rolls or ducks. It was a reminder of the day Lily showed her town the true meaning of togetherness, all through a little mischievousness and a simple phrase that rolled its way into the hearts of everyone in Homographville.

[How many homographs can you find?]

Two pale figures Fair skin shimmering In the full moon light Standing on the Watch Tower

She bat her eyes, beckoning “Your fangs are so sexy, Dracky” “So long, sharp, and frightening.”

“All the better to nibble you vith, my love.” “Muah, Hah, Hah, Hah!”

Fully entranced, she’s spell bound. “I long for your embrace, Count D!”

“How do I know you love me? You know, me being undead and all … my dear”

“Oh Dracky, let me count the ways! With a leap and a bound, let’s dance Under endless stars of night, As long as the moon takes flight shines bright, and lights the night.”

Dracula pulls her in close.

“I will bite you now, and You’ll be mine, and I’ll be thine. For all eternity, you and me. Do you will it to be?”

“It is my will, Dracky. I don’t want to sound tacky but the villagers are wacky.”

Dracky leans in Her scent is so dreamy.

“But, wait!” She says.

“A figure doth approaches! It’s my ex-lover, who works in the mine. He’s carrying a bat and an iron cross bow! Oh no, Dracky!”

“Don’t worry my dear. I figure this will only take a minute. Soon he’ll bow down, then he’ll be my buffet, and out of our way!”

In a flash and a kaboom A whirl and a zoom Dracky turns into a bat, Shape shifted And her spirits were lifted On the wind he flies Winding and Spiraling down.

“Good lucky, Dracky!” She says. With a wry smile, her thought bubble read: “In a few minutes, chances are he’ll be dead!”

On the winding path below Her ex-lover did not slow Not to be swayed That handsome lad, all armor clad, Placed an arrow Into a mighty iron cross-bow Pulling until the string was tightly wound He released it, and that arrow was bat bound! “For you, my Love!”

Flying so fast, then so slow Seeing that lad’s actions below Count dodged an arrow in mid-air He thought, “What a dip!” Down air currents he dipped In bat form he flopped and he flipped

In a dash and a flash And a bang and a crash Dracula assumed his true form Fangs, claws, and night hunger Did that lad make a blunder?

Dracula, now Furious and mad, Attacked that handsome lad Really Bad

“These villagers are buffoons” Dracula thought While inflicting fresh wounds

“I will iron your flesh, under that metal mesh.” “Today you should have stayed in bed. “Soon you’ll beg to be undead.”

“My heart is bound to my, Love.” “Once and for all.” The young lad looked so small. Dracula towered over him, so tall.

Dracky knocked off the lad’s helmet. “I was so close” The lad said.

Dracula started to close Sharp claws on the lad’s throat Couldn’t resist a chance to gloat “You’ll be dead in a minute!”

(THEN) - - - -> Ziiiiip - - - - -> BLANG!

A sneak bullet attack Right through Dracky’s back! Undead blood began to seep From Dracula’s wound, very deep

He turned and did see. His darling on the tower, looking on with glee The battle was won With one well-aimed gun! Dracula … Betrayed! A Fool he was made!

“It’s not fair.” Dracky said. “Did you lead him to me?”

“Yes, you fool! I hate how you drool!” “Now my lover lad, he can flee!” “And the villagers are free!”

Enraged, Dracula fumed! “No bullet can kill me … you know YOU ARE DOOMED!”

Undeterred, she continued “Hey! One minute detail escapes you!” “It was a bullet of silver, not lead.”

Dracula’s eyes widened in Dread. No more Eternal Love in store Lovers no more.

“Oh Dracky!” 🦴😆 😝

Pig shit and body odor clung to every inch of dad’s old trailer. I went through another drawer, shaking each item, looking for something, anything to tell us where dad went to this time. Miss Ada, the property owner, had said dad got upset by the swine, went away, and left little behind. She said she had hired dad to tend her pigs but after farrowing season he was gone.

After pouring on the charm, I convinced Miss Ada to let us examine the trailer. Like a lot of farmers in remote locations, the older woman was stand-offish. We explained how dad had sent us letters saying how much he loved this farm. I even talked her into making us a pitcher of lemonade so we could search in peace.

Frantic, Junior was opening and closing the kitchenette’s cabinets. Lexie was tapping her foot and holding her nose.

“So can we all jump in the Mystery Machine and go. Dad’s fine. He’s always fine and he’ll show up down the road,” Lexie said.

“That’s just it he has never gone this long without calling,” I said. “Or writing. He sends letters every few weeks.”

“Godammit Alexis. The nutty old lady said he got upset by the swine and left little behind. But he has left everything behind all his clothes, his wallet, even Blue. He would never abandon his dog.”

The Australian Shepherd cocked his head at his name and whined. Lexie rolled her eyes and Junior slammed his fist on the counter. My big brother and sister squared off. When she was nervous, Lexie went all nonchalant. When Junior was scared he yelled usually at Lexie. Blue let out a soulful howl and I stepped between them.

A slip of paper fluttered out from the shirt I was holding. It was sun faded photo, our last family portrait with mom. I remembered how scratchy my dress shirt was and Junior had pulled Lexie’s ponytail and Lexie punched in the nuts. Dad and Mom were screaming and I fell over and knocked down the photographer’s backdrop. Disheveled and smiling, the five of us looked so happy, were so happy. We looked at one another. I covered a sob in my throat. Junior steadied me with a hand. Barking, Blue jumped up on the rumpled bed. Dad would have taken this photo.

“That’s it I’m done with waiting for dad to get his shit together. Play happy families if you want Dylan but here is where I get off. I’m upset and leaving nothing behind,” Lexie mocked.

Lexie slammed opened the trailer door. The dog raced past her and headed for one of the outbuildings. My sister stumbled and nearly fell onto Miss Ada. In a flowered sun hat and men’s overalls, the lady farmer made me think of a nice grandmotherly head on a line backer’s body.

“Don’t worry I’ll grab the dog. We can take turns watching him until Dad comes back,” Lexie said.

Carrying a tray with a pitcher and ice filled glasses, Miss Ada was walking up to the trailer.

“Thank you so much ma’am. You have been so gracious to allow us to look,” I said.

Junior reached for a glass. “Is there anymore you can tell us about our father’s last day here?”

“Well when you get upset by the hogs, little is left behind,” Miss Ada said sadly shaking her head.

Lexie screamed and ran towards us from the barn. Dad’s dog rounded the barn’s corner and beelined to me. Junior tossed his glass and ran to her. I stood stock still. Wagging his tail, Blue set a human hand down on my foot. I recognized Dad’s wedding band.

“Silly dog you found what was leftover.” Miss Ada chuckled and offered me a glass of lemonade.

“It’s time to move on,” they say, “it’s time to let go.” But what if I’m not ready? What if… what if I want to stay? Or at least say goodbye?

It all happened so fast, I’m still not convinced this isn’t all just a dream. And yet, I know it’s real, because it hurts too much to be a dream.

Like it or not, here I am. Watching as my mother cries, and seeing my brothers’ tormented eyes.

Oh, how I wish this were a dream! But I watched them plan the funeral, I watched them move the body, I watched them close the casket and bury it six feet down. I watched everyone I love die right before my eyes. Their hearts ripped from their bodies and their souls rent into pieces.

And I’m just standing here. Frozen in place.

“It’s time to move on,” they say again, “it’s time to let go.” But what if I’m still not ready? What if… what if I want to stay? Or at least say goodbye?

I don’t think I can leave, not yet, not now. There’s so much left to say, so much left to do. I can’t just walk away from it all.

It’s odd how death wakes a person up, shakes them from the blinding slumber of routine. Death makes one realize forever does not exist in this world.

Looking around, I realize what a fool I’ve been. These people are my life. The very joy of my existence. I love them more than life itself, but they don’t know that…I’ve never told them.

All these years and I’ve never been able to find the words to express the deepest feelings of my heart, until now.

And now it’s too late.

Of course now I have the courage. Of course now I have the words. Of course now that I’m dead, I finally know what to say.

I only had to die to find the words.

It’s ironic, really. Now that I’m dead I know everything I should have said before I died.

“It’s time to move on,” they say once more, “it’s time to let go.” I’m not ready. I want to stay. At the very least to say goodbye.

Tears pour down my face as a thousand angel arms wrap around me. It should be comforting, but it’s not. Nothing can comfort a soul that’s realized every chance they thought they had is dashed to pieces.

The game is up. My time ran out. And I never even got to say goodbye.

Oh, what a wretched son I am! Oh, what a wretched brother I am! Why didn’t I use the time I had?! Why did I let myself live like there would always be a tomorrow?!

If only I could have known, then I would have said it all. If I knew I wouldn’t live to see tomorrow, I would have lived as such.

But now it’s too late.

They will never know. They will never feel my love for them.

“It’s time to move on,” they say one last time, “it’s time to let go.”

“But what if I’m not ready? What if… what if I want to stay? Or at least say goodbye?”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that now my son. Your time has passed, but the time will soon come when you will get the chance again. For now you must follow me.

Come home.”

I turn to follow, leaving my life behind.

Too late did I learn that although you never regret your love, you forever regret your silence.

“All are holy!” The religious chorus cries as they dance through the town. They’re singing praises of the god king, Lucius. His example is that all living things are holy, the plants, the earth, the people. We live on the edge of the capital in a small, poorer suburb. So it’s nice to have something of equal status as the nobility in the center of the capital. As the group of religious leaders start to end, the -have the narrator enlisted into the army/guard as “all are holy”. -have his family taken from him as bandits take from his house. As the narrator protests one of his family members, have the bandit proclaim “all are holy” so that the bandit is holy and gets to choose his worth. -have the narrator become an assassin and go against the king proclaiming death to the holy “all are holy”

Your notes lay across the floor. Words piled into sentences of every sweet thing you said. Memories of you tear my mind. The day you walked was the day my heart shattered. I picked up the “You’re the best” note and tear it into pieces. Tearing every note one by one, leaving tears in my eyes. Tearing up rivers with every word broken. Water floods in my eyes as I linger for your sweet warm touch. With every regret, wishing I could get you back. Back into my arms. Back into my future. Back into my life. Now the floor is covered in torn notes and tears you’ll never wipe away.

If only Hyssop had been an August Witch, then the people of Afire would have believed her when she said that the lettuce she had received was contaminated.

But Hyssop was not an August Witch. Nutmeg, the witch who grew the lettuce, was an August Witch, so the people believed that Nutmeg’s lettuce could not have been contaminated.

Clove didn’t know when the lettuce had been contaminated. But she knew that it was wrong that Nutmeg was let off the hook just because she was an August Witch. And Hyssop was blamed just because she wasn’t an August Witch.

So Clove went to Hyssop’s small cafe and ordered a sandwich with lettuce. She had vowed to help the witches who didn’t have the August Witch name to protect them, and this was her first stop.

Clove was starting to see that being an August Witch was about more than good grades. She had to prove to Regina and to the dean that she cared about Afire and its citizens. She had to do more than to avoid saying the wrong things. She has to say the right things.

While Clove was taking a bite of her blt, Basil pulled out a seat at her table. He swept his red robes under him as he sat.

At first, Clove smiled at him. Basil was her best friend in Afire even though they weren’t supposed to be seen with each other. Then, Clove remembered that she was still chewing a bite of sandwich. She attempted to finish her bite before speaking, but she worried this would give Basil the opportunity to say a lot to her all at once.

“I saw you walk into the cafe,” Basil said. “And I followed you. What are you doing eating here? Is that lettuce? I heard the lettuce is bad? Don’t you keep up with the news, Clove? A young student like you really should—”

“Basil,” Clove said, feeling relieved that she could finally speak. “I do know about the lettuce. I came here on purpose.”

Clove explained her mission to Basil.

“Well,” Basil said. “I followed you here, and I’d follow you anywhere, Clove.”

Basil went up to the front of the cafe. He ordered a blt to go. He brought it back to the table, stood next to Clove, and took a bite.

“I’ve got to run, Clove,” Basil said. “But I’ll see you around. I would follow you anywhere.”

Basil left the cafe.

Clove thought it was strange that Basil had followed her into the store and that he kept saying that he would follow her. If she didn’t know him so well, she would wonder if he planned to stalk her.

Clove shook her head. She knew that Basil was just a strange person but that he usually had the best intentions.

Clove went to the front of the store and thanked Hyssop.

Later that night, she went online and wrote a glowing review of her sandwich.

The next day, Clove passed by the sandwich shop, and it was full.

Clove wondered if her review could really have that much power. “No way,” she said.

“Basil was right,” said a middle-aged woman who was leaving the cafe. “This cafe is delicious. August Witches really have the best taste.”

Clove froze. She suddenly knew what Basil had meant when he said that he would follow her anywhere, but she had to confirm it.

Clove walked up to the middle-aged witch and grabbed her arm.

“Excuse me,” Clove said, “Basil recommended this shop to you?”

“He was on the Flaming Show last night,” the middle-aged witch said. “Did you not see it? He said the bad lettuce was all a misunderstanding and that this cafe is so delicious, so we came here today.”

Clove let go of the woman’s arm and walked away.

She felt a little disappointed that Basil had packed this cafe with customers and not her. But she felt even more honored that he had taken up her mission and had followed her in recommending Hyssop’s cafe.

She wanted to find Basil. She didn’t know if she planned to thank him or to argue with him. But she knew that she would follow him anywhere too.

Fly says the bird, fly or you will fall

Fall says the seed , fall or you won’t grow

Grow says the flower, grow or you will rot

Rot

Rot

Rot