A poem about a small group of creatures in one of Enid Blyton's stories.

Flutterpups

            In the darkness shapes form and stir,

            Brilliant of colour and often a blur.

            Colours shift and sharpen to form,

            Faces and places we know may be reborn.

            But that's not always the way things go,

            I'll tell of some creatures that you might not know.

            Soaring the skies on glorious wings,

            Are cute little adorable things.

            From damp sooty nose to waggely tail

            Their beautiful fur coats shine with regale

            Best stay aware or you'll often miss,

            Those cheeky pups sneak a quick slobbery kiss.

            Playing on fields and in skies of blue,

            Such fun you'll wish to join in too.

            Some have races around pretty rainbows,

            And some on white fluffy clouds doze.

            But then the world is torn asunder by light through the veil,

            The new day is here... and that's the end of my tale.

A bit seedier

Here's one that is unfortunate, but true for some people.

Hard times

            She rushed down the street in her old car, running late for work again. She was always late on saturdays, there always seemed to be so much to do for the children on that day. And of course, it didn't help that her husband had gotten himself incarcerated.

            He had been in rental real-estate  and well respected. But he had been marking up maintenance and extermination bills, and pocketing the excess. When he was found out he was convicted and sent to prison for eight months, but money was still needed for living expenses and the mortgage.

            She had been involved on and off in stage plays, her acting skill high enough to gain her a recommendation to act other parts fairly regularly. Unfortunately she wasn't making enough for her family to get by, she had to get a more regular job. After a few days the best she had found she had to take.

            It was in a relatively small establishment all the way across town, just inside the city. The building was quite dank looking, and situated on a side street near a couple of pubs. It was always near full with people who came to see the shows, and sometimes some of them would leave tips.

            She parked her car and rushed breathlessly into the dressing room, just in time if she prepared quickly. Wincing at the far too revealing costume, she got changed then took her position on stage to do the can-can. The first and least degrading show in the line-up that she would have to perform tonight, and every night while her husband was in jail.

A possible side of life that you don't normally see

Another short story to ponder, and this one could bring a tear to your eye.

A final moment

            He stood there quietly, reminiscing about his life since his daughter was born. Before he had become a father he spent a lot of time just hanging around with friends, or tinkering with and cleaning his Dodge Charger. He was proud of the performance and condition of his car, it had been a wreck when he bought it. He found it in a wreckers yard when he was 17, and managed to talk the yard owner down to just $300 for the car. He put in all the time and money he could into it, and had it looking and working like new in less than a year.

           

            But the day his daughter was born, not even one thought of his car crossed his mind. He had just about finished shaving, when his wife urgently called him to come back to the bedroom. She was standing in a big puddle next to their bed with her hand on her stomach  trying to slow her breathing. They made it to the hospital quickly, but the car gained a few small dents and scratches during that trip. He was so distracted by his wife's pained breathing, that the bumps and the short scraping sounds never caught his attention.

            Seeing and hearing their baby for the first time intrigued him. But the first time he held her an intense awe like nothing ever before, flooded through him and brought his heart to his throat. She was so little and yet so perfect in his eyes, that he instantly fell in love with her. Since that day his pride was always for her, she never failed him. Even in school when she got a low mark for a test, he was still proud of her effort. After finishing school she got a job as a clerk, not the best of jobs but one she was content with.

            At the age of 23 here she was, standing there looking sadly at his bed. He watched with heartache, as the silent tears slowly tracked down her cheeks.

            Just a month ago, while driving home from work. He had just pulled up to the stop line at a traffic intersection, when a drunk driver haring down the road clipped the median curb and bounced straight for him. For the last month he had watched the doctors and nurses, coming and going several times a day to check his condition. But there was never any improvement, never any real hope that his brain would produce thought-waves again. She gave a little nod, and a nurse reached down and flicked a switch. The room that had been noisy for the past month was suddenly and unbearably silent.

            He tried one last time to tell her, to let her hear his love for her. He glanced down at himself laying unmoving on the bed, as his daughter broke down in sorrow and loss. Then bright white light started to flare around him... his last sight was of his grieving daughter desperately clutching his physical body's hand to her heart.

Again, feedback is welcome

Hello world

I've written some short stories, and am currently playing around with "Quest" (a text adventure program).
In the meantime I'd like to share my short stories, here's the first one.

A city under siege

            The blinding flash lit the night sky brighter than day, gasping, Elise tried to calm herself and lay back down. She felt she was living in Hell, and that this damned war would never end. The war had started almost a week ago, and she'd had very little sleep since. It was difficult to sleep with the thundering of cannons and bursts of machine-gun fire, nor did the grenade explosions help. But those thrice damned bombs, made it near impossible.

            She looked across at Rook, who was keeping watch in the corner behind the shattered doorway. His real name is Denny O'Rouke, but everyone calls him Rook because no-one ever beat him at arm-wrestling. He was originally from Ireland, but grew up in London's west-end. There he had to learn quickly how to defend himself, from bullies and gangs. Rook had lost half his squad-mates within the first two days of battle, then he found her. Elise was huddled under a broken table, just a few ruins down the road from what had been her grandparents house.

            She closed her eyes and shuddered, trying to stop the remembrance of seeing her grandparents killed. But the memory unheedingly, hauntingly played-over through her mind anyway. Again she saw the grenade explosion ripping apart the door in the kitchen, that had led to their small backyard. Again she saw the hail of bullets ripping through her grandparents bodies, from the cloud of dust and smoke that had moments ago been the door. Then not knowing what else to do, she had quickly climbed up the chimney. After a few breathless moments she heard people storm in, and then the chaos of noise while they roughly searched the house. Hardly even daring to breathe, she stayed in the chimney until she could no-longer see daylight above.

            Rook managed to get them back to a controlled town, where they found out that Elise's parents were dead. Her father had died on the battle-front, and a couple of days later the munitions factory her mother worked in, was bombed. A couple of days later Rook asked Elise if she would like him to adopt her, and spent the rest of his life protecting her.

            Although she re-lived the horrors of that war, every single night as she tried to sleep. Today for the first and last time, she told her story. For today they were saying goodbye to Rook, for he had passed quietly in his sleep. A grown woman now, with children of her own. Elise would never forget the war that interrupted her childhood, and gave her scars that would never fade.

 Feedback is welcome