Where does it come from?

Never ask a fairy where’s she’s from. I told him a dozen times but he just couldn’t seem to get it through his head. Ask a woman her age, her weight, if you must, ask if she’s pregnant, but NEVER ask a fairy where she’s from.



Oh sorry, my name’s Spellinda. My brother, thick head over there, is Gregory Thomas Speleford the Fifth. I told my parents we should have named him Spalunk but they didn’t go for it. But that doesn’t stop me from calling him that. You should see the way mom comes out of her skin when I do!

Anyway, we’re wil-o-the-whisps. It’s lots of fun. Hiding keys and glasses, stealing that last bite of food from the container, running through trees on spooky nights right outside windows. Wait a minute, why am I telling you this. Never mind, forget I said any of that. We just sit out in the yard all day making the daisies nod. Yep, that’s all we do.

Anyway, I told Spalunk not to ask a fairy where she’s from but he didn’t listen and that’s how we got into the mess.

It started off innocent enough. We were running up and down the wall with crayons tapped to our shoes while little Billy played with his blocks in the other room,

when this gorgeous blue fairy waltzes in on a passing breeze and asks what we’re up to. Well, I’m not stupid enough to answer such a question. If she can’t figure it out, who am I to rob her of the chance to exercise that pretty little brain of hers.

But Spalunk just open his mouth wide and asked, “Where’d you come from?”

My mouth fair fell open. She smiled at him with all the evil her soul could muster. “You shall find out.”

The next thing I know we’re sitting in the middle of a dung heap with smelly fairies buzzing all around us.


“Oh, good!” Cries this ancient looking one. “New hands. We’ve need help for some weeks now.” She grabs both our arms and lifts up out of the pile of manure and flies us to the other side. “Now, the eggs will hatch soon. All you have to do is feed them the manure as they crawl out. “

I’d heard of this trick, hence the warning for dear little brother, but I’d never heard what happened after.

Pretty soon that foul smelling dung heap started shaking and I started to fear for my very life, but then this dear little spot of light came crawling out.

She toddled over to me and looked up with all the beauty and allure of wounded dear seeking help. I forgot myself and reached down, scooping up that poo and reaching it out to her. She opened up her tiny little mouth and daintily took a bite. Then she smiled up at me and I thought, “Well, that wasn’t so bad. If you just need a little poo to make something so cute and useful as a fairy then I’ll hold my little hand full. But then she tugged on my shirt for more, and the piles began to shake again. Then there were two, then three. Before I knew it the whole mound was alive with tinny spots of light flying up and demanding more and more poo! I was starting to get covered cause every time one came up to ask for more she’d leave a mighty hand print of poo.

Then they started crawling on me to get there first and that’s when I lost it.

I looked over at Spalunk to say, ‘Let’s get out of here.” But he was so busy playing with the little things he had no idea what a mess he was. So I decided on action. I threw the one that was bighting me back at the pile where, by the way, more were still crawling out. I grabbed Spalunk’s collar and turned to flee.

We ran up ditches and down rivers, those little light spots seemed glued to our shoes. Then, we were passing this box and an arm shot out and grabbed us jerking us in before the fairies caught up.


“Name’s Mighty,” he spat out in heavy Irish brogue, “I’m a Leprechaun.”

“Spellinda, and Spulunk. Thanks for saving us.”

“Oh I wasn’t trying to save you, I was trying to stop you.”

“Huh? Stop us from what?”

“From feeding those fairies. The more fairies there are the more manure we leprechaun have to come up with.”

I was still confused so I asked again, “Huh?”

“Don’t you know anything? It goes like this. We bring in the manure but the there will only ever hatch as many as you’re willing to feed. Can’t feed themselves, can they? So they get some dolt to come and feed away. The more they feed, the more hatch, the more manure we have to get for later. If we don’t stop someone the whole world’s going to be covered in manure.”

So that’s why I’m here. To plead with you, if a light spot of light waltzes up to you ask where it comes from, then if it comes from a pile of poo… don’t feed it.

To be continued...

Two doors down and one hallway over lives a family of extremely interesting circumstances. These circumstances were related to me by the youngest occupant one autumn day as we swung on the swings in the apartment playground. Of course she never said it was her family but she seemed a little over confident of the details in some parts and a little too hesitant in others, especially the parts that implicated the youngest member of the family.


According to her, it all began as she watched the rain pouring over the gutter.

That day the mother, Amanda, had chosen not to go anywhere because of the forecasted storm. And now, much the youngest, Carina, ’s chagrin, it had come with a torrential glory. Every now and then a flash of lighting would pulse, quickly illuminating the waterfall and the landscape beyond.

The house stood at the top of a small hill, which rose up onto of a much taller, though more subtle hill. The family never worried about being flooded, although today, Carina felt a little bit like Noah. She had already begun to wonder if her new umbrella would float if it were turned upside down with her inside it. She had some serious doubts.

“I hope it stops soon.” Amanda declared walking up behind Carina. “I have no desire to walk to the barn in that much rain. What about you little one? Would you be willing to walk through the rain to lock up your chickens?”

For the first time Carina noticed how dim everything was beginning to look. “Mom, we can’t go out in this! We’d get carried away!”

Amanda looked down at her daughter, one eyebrow cocked, “Carried away by what?”

“You know, the water and stuff. Dad always says you’re small and that you get carried away too easily, so I’m even smaller… What if we got John to go with us?”

Amanda threw her head back and laughed at her daughter’s logic. John was Carina’s slightly over weight but very tall brother. He was only 12 and yet almost as tall as their mother. Once some well meaning relative had joked that John had stolen all the height genes in the family before Carina had a chance to get any. Carina thought they were explaining why she was “small for her age” and still blamed John for all of her vertically challenged troubles. And here, once again, was a case where some of the height genes would have come in handy.

“Come on little one, grab your rain coat. John’s already out taking care of his pigs. If the water starts to ‘carry’ us away, we’ll just grab a ride on old Jamima’s back and she’ll take care of us.”

Carina shook her head. Jamima Puddle Duck was way too small to carry both of them. That little duck only came up to her knee and she couldn’t even walk straight. “How about we get the boat from the garage first.” Carina wrinkled her nose remembering her father returning from his last fishing trip and saying that there was a hole in it. “Maybe my umbrella?” There she was back to the same dilemma. Would her umbrella float? And could it carry her and her mother? She looked back out at the constant stream flowing down in front of her.

“No umbrellas, go get your coat and hat before it gets dark. We need to hurry.”

Carina ran to get her coat from the mud room hook where it lived. Her mother’s voice had that tense sound to it that only seemed to come when something was going wrong. Maybe her mother was scared about getting washed away too. Shoving her hands into her sleeves Carina tried to go over the swimming strokes she had learned this summer. If worse came to worse, she thought she could probably swim her mother to shore before giving into the current herself. Tears sprang to her eyes and she ran to her mother. She flung her arms around her mother’s waist crying softly.

“Baby, it’s not that bad. We’ve taken care of the animals in worse. But we need to get going.” Her mother’s voice trailed off as she looked out at past the gutter fall toward the distant horizon, “They say the worst is yet to come and the animals need to be safe tonight. “ Amanda slipped her hand into her daughter’s and smiled carefully down at her, “Just stick with me and wont let anyone carry you away.”

Just for fun

Time stands still for only a moment when two worlds of separate dimensions collide and then sift through each other leaving behind strange evidences but only enough to baffle the wise.


Once long ago, an ancient world of giants left behind only the bones of their dead. Scientists named the Giants dinosaurs and foolishly dated our own world by them. Sometime later a very small but strange planet only caught a tiny corner of our world leaving behind a pair of duckbilled platypuses, a joke of nature on both planets as it turns out.

Perhaps one of the most frightening passes was when a planet, dying from over population, left behind thousands of the offending creatures. How I shudder at what almost became of our beautiful earth. We all owe our lives to the brave, stupid yet brave birds that first began to consume bugs. Alas, it’s still their intent to overcome this world but fortunately they are small to us.

Now as I stare up into the heavens a they twinkle in just such a manner, a chill runs up my spin as they seem to whisper, an invisible giant is headed your way, only after the passing will you know how your world has changed.

Hope, Faith, and Charity

How Hope met Faith, and the subsequent advent of Charity.




Hope new there was someone special out there for him. He just didn’t know where.

He struggled to do more than stare at the stars and dream of the day he would find her.



One day that star looked down on Faith and told her just who Hope was. Faith got up and started searching.

At last Faith found Hope and smiled upon him. Hope looked up at Faith and knew she was the right one.

Faith and Hope were soon married and found themselves going on adventures. Hope would dream and Faith would lead and together they went everywhere.



One night, after seeing the sadness’ of the World, Hope prayed for the power to help all those in need. That night he dreamed of a child, a gift to all the world, He would succor all their needs and brake the torturer’s hold.

Soon Faith brought forth a child handsome and strong. They named him Charity.



Now they roamed together. Hope would dream of where to go, Faith would get them there, and Charity, their gorgeous child, would lift all around with His loving care.

Hmmm....

So, no posts for a long while. I see. Well, I can tell I've been terribly missed by the Anonymous advertisers that are constantly sending me comments, reminding me that I have a blog. A blog, a blog.

You know, once I said I was a writer. That I couldn't;t breath if I wasn't writing. And well, I guess that's true. My writing has never ceased. Though its' content has been purely functional... okay not purely. My pride has over come this trend on occasion. But the "writer" in me is all but dead.

It started when I left on my mission. I was at my peek and writing like mad. Then I put that aside for the Lord and have never really been able to recover it.

Well, the Prophet said don't let anyone tell you you can't. Recently someone, politely, suggested... I wouldn't want to. I want to say, "You don't understand, it's like breathing!" but it's not anymore. So here's my goal. To write. To write till my muscles get long and lean and beautiful and words fall from my pen like liquid gold pooling in a shimmering puddle of light and substance.

We shall see what we shall see.

Will I Still Love Him When He’s Gone Bald?

I know that now
Is the time to chose my Prince.

But sometimes I look
And just have to wince.

All joking aside
I just want to know

Will I still love him when he’s gone bald?

What about age spots?
If his nose grows TOO big!?


What if he’s unfaithful?

What if he breaks my heart?

What if my children
Have no one to look to

For blessings and baptisms

And dancing at their weddings?

What if he’s lazy? After the dating is over…
How can I KNOW he’ll be there to grow old?
What if he doesn’t love me?












My dear young friend…
Let me assure you there’s hope to be had
Of love that lasts forever
And great fathers and Granddads.

How can you be sure, he’s the right one for you?

I would go get my list but I’ve found not to bother.

Love may come in any corner and the list goes out the window.

When chosing a mate
Just two things I would mention,
First and formost, are you worth the bother?

Make the most of yourself and you’ll find you can’t stand
those who would not be the greatest of men.

Second is a trick that served me well
What he’s doing now is the easiest way to tell

What he’ll be doing years from now

Ask him why and who he is.

Don’t dream of something greater and tack it on to him.

How will you know if you’ll love him when he’s bald?
Why that’s the simplest of all
You’ll love and be attracted to the man whom you chose
Our desire dictates eye sight
Now hearken to this truth.
Once you’ve chosen and he’s yours

You must never forget
He is your Prince and the best one you’ll get.
So chose to love him chose to find
Him attractive body and mind

In the end you’ll find old age
Is pleasantest with the one who helped you turn the future’s page.