All North American serial rights reserved.
The Crocodile
By Wendy Morrow
Lucy ran down the street after her father. Her little curls bounced in the wind and her sunglasses slipped down her nose.” Daddy”, she called out. “Daddy wait, Daddy wait.” Her foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk and all at once she fell onto the dimpled concrete. Lucy screamed and lay on the pavement.
Her father turned and ran back to her. “Oh Lucy.” he cried and bent to pick her up. “Lucy, Lucy, poor little Lucy.”
“My knee” she sobbed and looked down through her tears at her injured knee, the blood was starting to come out in little droplets and the sight of it threw Lucy into even deeper, heaving sobs. She brought her knee up to her face and howled.
“My new shoe,” she wailed. “My cwoc, where is my cwoc?” Lucy struggled to get down and she looked all around. She had a little green sandal still attached to one foot but the other was bare. “Oh no,” she said. “I have to have my cwoc.” She fell into sadder sobs at the thought of the missing croc.
“Well,” her father said, “I guess we will have to find it, let’s look around and see if we can see your croc.”
“Where do you suppose a lost little croc would go? Would it go back to the swamp and look for its family?” he asked Lucy.
“No” Lucy said. “It is not a real crocodile.”
“Would it go to the zoo to look for the animals?” her father asked.
“No, it wouldn’t do that, it doesn’t know the way.” Lucy stopped gasping and cocked her head to one side and looked at her father.
“Do you think it went inside to have a sandwich?” her father kissed the tears on her cheek.
“Yes,” Lucy said, “that is what I wanted to tell you. We made lunch and I was calling you to come and get your sandwich.”
Lucy and her father began to look for Lucy's shoe, they looked on the grass, and on the road. They looked under the wagon and on the porch. They peered under the daisies in the flower bed and over the neighbour’s fence, but they couldn’t see the little shoe.
A little chickadee was watching them search for Lucy’s shoe. “Here sweetie, here’s your shoe” The little bird sang. “Here sweetie, here’s your shoe.”
Lucy and her father looked at the bird and then the bush. And there was Lucy's shoe, sitting on a branch like a little green flower.
“Well your shoe is sitting in the bush here waiting for you to find it.” Her father scooped her up and put her on his shoulders. He bent down and Lucy picked her shoe off the branch and her father put it on her foot.
“Now, you have matching crocs again.” He said.
Lucy smiled, and messed up her father’s hair as they went in for lunch.
She had forgotten about her knee.
Word count 374
Monday, June 23, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
The Longest Day of the Year
All North American serial rights reserved'
June 20th 2008,
By Wendy Morrow
The clock was nearing that magical moment of 6:57 p.m. June 20th, 2008. the moment of the zenith of the sun and the summer solstice. The holiest day of the year for gardeners, golfers, patio bar drinkers and sun worshippers. The moment when summer goes on forever and all thoughts of winter and snow are banished.
The moment was the peak cruising altitude of patio daddy-Os all along the busy downtown sidewalk restaurants and bars. The golden hour of summer. This year there will be a full moon at the same time. What a confluence of events! Surely the magic will be present tonight.
Aila twisted the last lock of hair into place and coated it with hairspray. Her tube top covered the bare minimum and revealed the parts she wanted to show off.
She put the sparkly belly button ring on and then slipped the matching toe rings over her middle toes. Her shorts were short. They were very short, but she had spent the last hour in the shower shaving her legs and buffing her calloused knees and rubbing her legs and arms with body cream. “Hmm, Lookin' good there girl!” she hummed and admired herself in the mirror. She knew her legs would go the distance and they would look especially long with her new shoes. She could smell the heavenly expensive body scrub, gel, creams and lotions wafting ahead of her and the alluring scent would surely turn all the male heads. “I just know that if it is meant to be, I will meet him tonight.” She told the mirror.
She tossed her apartment keys into her little bag and stepped into her too tall wedgies. She locked the door behind her and started off down the street. “What a night it will be.” She swished herself down the block and started the short walk to the pub. She had arranged to meet her buddies at their favourite local and since one of the guys had probably been on the patio all day long, they would have the best table by now. Right on the corner, right on the street, right in full cruising view of everyone passing by.
She heard a fuss in the bushes along the sidewalk, a loud squawk and a hiss. More sounds of breaking branches and howling. She stooped down and peered into the hedge. A mother duck was on the ground in a tangle of branches and old leaves and under her wings she was hiding her babies. The female mallard was holding off a cat who had discovered the family and thought that a tasty duckling for dinner was just the ticket.
“Shoo!” Aila shouted, “Get out of here”, and she flapped her hands at the cat. The cat backed off a foot or two, continuing to snarl but it still had the lust to kill on her mind. The cat made a grab for a duckling that had poked its head out from under the mother duck’s wing. The cat caught the duckling by a leg and began to back out of the hedge with the baby bird in its mouth. Aila dove into the bush and grabbed the cat by the tail. The cat screamed and twisted its body and as she turned to bite Aila, the little duckling fell from the cat’s mouth. In an instant Aila had the duckling in her hand and she backed out through the bush.
Aila’s tube top had rolled up to her arm pits. Aila put the duckling down beside her. She looked around to find that no one had seen the incident as she pulled her tube top back down. “Now what?” she asked the mother duck. “That cat will come back, what a stupid place to have your babies.” She mumbled to the duck. She brushed the side of her face and felt a drop of blood trickle town her cheek. She must have scratched herself in the bush.
The Elbow river ran through the quiet old neighbourhood and all along its banks, other water fowl had chosen sheltered places to lay and hatch their off spring. “We will have to get you down to the river you stupid duck.” Aila looked under the mother duck’s wing. Six ducklings, “Well, how do we move you?” she asked. “I have nothing to carry you all in. If you stay here you will lose your fight with the cat.”
She gathered up the soft, warm little bodies and as she cradled them in her arms, she discovered that they were not content to be carried. They squirmed and wriggled and tumbled to the ground. “Oh God, you stupid ducks, you are going to make me late and ruin my night” Aila threw a stick at the cat who backed off a further.
She picked up the mother duck, it would be easier to carry and wrestle one duck. The mother duck was frantic to get back down. Aila thought it was easier to carry and wrestle one duck than six. No, now she could see that there were two more in the hedge; eight squirming ducklings.
Down the sidewalk they marched. Aila holding the big duck in her arms in the lead and all the wee ducklings in a row behind them The mother duck was flapping, wriggling, pooping, hissing and snapping. She quacked and spat and bit Aila’s midriff and arms. Aila walked backwards to keep an eye on the little ducklings parading along behind. Each curb was a Mount Everest and every corner was a speedway. The trip was only two blocks long but Aila’s nerves were getting raw.
A motorcycle roared up to a screeching, smoking stop at the last corner just as the little parade passed by. The front tire on the motorcycle missed the last little straggler by a feather. The rider pushed the visor up on his shiny red helmet and said. “Taking your ducks for a walk?”
“Smart ass.” Alia hissed back. “Stupid jerk!” She kept her steady pace but took her time on the curb as the little ducklings were getting tired and becoming a bit distracted. She wanted the rider to have to wait until the little family was up on the sidewalk before he frightened them again. He balanced his bike with both feet on the ground and watched the little procession for while and then rolled quietly around the corner.
Finally they reached the river bank. Aila put the mother duck down on the grass and held her until all the tired little babies waddled up for the reunion. Aila sat down on the grass beside them and then watched the little family plop into the water and gather together in the stream. Down the river they floated and bobbed and not once did they look back to say goodbye or thank you.
When Aila reached the patio, her hair was standing on end and the trickled blood had smeared and dried on her face and back. Her shorts were streaked with duck poop and stained with grass. Her arms and midriff were red from duck bill bites.
Her friends welcomed her with quizzical faces. She sat down in the shade of the patio umbrella, she laughed and dabbed at her wounds with a wet Kleenex and told them her Pied duckling story.
On a corner table a few feet away, someone had placed a red motorcycle helmet. The bright summer sun, at its peak of the solstice glinted off the helmet and caught Aila’s eye.
The waitress came over to her with a wine glass of cold Baby Duck. “From the gentleman in the corner.” She said.
June 20th 2008,
By Wendy Morrow
The clock was nearing that magical moment of 6:57 p.m. June 20th, 2008. the moment of the zenith of the sun and the summer solstice. The holiest day of the year for gardeners, golfers, patio bar drinkers and sun worshippers. The moment when summer goes on forever and all thoughts of winter and snow are banished.
The moment was the peak cruising altitude of patio daddy-Os all along the busy downtown sidewalk restaurants and bars. The golden hour of summer. This year there will be a full moon at the same time. What a confluence of events! Surely the magic will be present tonight.
Aila twisted the last lock of hair into place and coated it with hairspray. Her tube top covered the bare minimum and revealed the parts she wanted to show off.
She put the sparkly belly button ring on and then slipped the matching toe rings over her middle toes. Her shorts were short. They were very short, but she had spent the last hour in the shower shaving her legs and buffing her calloused knees and rubbing her legs and arms with body cream. “Hmm, Lookin' good there girl!” she hummed and admired herself in the mirror. She knew her legs would go the distance and they would look especially long with her new shoes. She could smell the heavenly expensive body scrub, gel, creams and lotions wafting ahead of her and the alluring scent would surely turn all the male heads. “I just know that if it is meant to be, I will meet him tonight.” She told the mirror.
She tossed her apartment keys into her little bag and stepped into her too tall wedgies. She locked the door behind her and started off down the street. “What a night it will be.” She swished herself down the block and started the short walk to the pub. She had arranged to meet her buddies at their favourite local and since one of the guys had probably been on the patio all day long, they would have the best table by now. Right on the corner, right on the street, right in full cruising view of everyone passing by.
She heard a fuss in the bushes along the sidewalk, a loud squawk and a hiss. More sounds of breaking branches and howling. She stooped down and peered into the hedge. A mother duck was on the ground in a tangle of branches and old leaves and under her wings she was hiding her babies. The female mallard was holding off a cat who had discovered the family and thought that a tasty duckling for dinner was just the ticket.
“Shoo!” Aila shouted, “Get out of here”, and she flapped her hands at the cat. The cat backed off a foot or two, continuing to snarl but it still had the lust to kill on her mind. The cat made a grab for a duckling that had poked its head out from under the mother duck’s wing. The cat caught the duckling by a leg and began to back out of the hedge with the baby bird in its mouth. Aila dove into the bush and grabbed the cat by the tail. The cat screamed and twisted its body and as she turned to bite Aila, the little duckling fell from the cat’s mouth. In an instant Aila had the duckling in her hand and she backed out through the bush.
Aila’s tube top had rolled up to her arm pits. Aila put the duckling down beside her. She looked around to find that no one had seen the incident as she pulled her tube top back down. “Now what?” she asked the mother duck. “That cat will come back, what a stupid place to have your babies.” She mumbled to the duck. She brushed the side of her face and felt a drop of blood trickle town her cheek. She must have scratched herself in the bush.
The Elbow river ran through the quiet old neighbourhood and all along its banks, other water fowl had chosen sheltered places to lay and hatch their off spring. “We will have to get you down to the river you stupid duck.” Aila looked under the mother duck’s wing. Six ducklings, “Well, how do we move you?” she asked. “I have nothing to carry you all in. If you stay here you will lose your fight with the cat.”
She gathered up the soft, warm little bodies and as she cradled them in her arms, she discovered that they were not content to be carried. They squirmed and wriggled and tumbled to the ground. “Oh God, you stupid ducks, you are going to make me late and ruin my night” Aila threw a stick at the cat who backed off a further.
She picked up the mother duck, it would be easier to carry and wrestle one duck. The mother duck was frantic to get back down. Aila thought it was easier to carry and wrestle one duck than six. No, now she could see that there were two more in the hedge; eight squirming ducklings.
Down the sidewalk they marched. Aila holding the big duck in her arms in the lead and all the wee ducklings in a row behind them The mother duck was flapping, wriggling, pooping, hissing and snapping. She quacked and spat and bit Aila’s midriff and arms. Aila walked backwards to keep an eye on the little ducklings parading along behind. Each curb was a Mount Everest and every corner was a speedway. The trip was only two blocks long but Aila’s nerves were getting raw.
A motorcycle roared up to a screeching, smoking stop at the last corner just as the little parade passed by. The front tire on the motorcycle missed the last little straggler by a feather. The rider pushed the visor up on his shiny red helmet and said. “Taking your ducks for a walk?”
“Smart ass.” Alia hissed back. “Stupid jerk!” She kept her steady pace but took her time on the curb as the little ducklings were getting tired and becoming a bit distracted. She wanted the rider to have to wait until the little family was up on the sidewalk before he frightened them again. He balanced his bike with both feet on the ground and watched the little procession for while and then rolled quietly around the corner.
Finally they reached the river bank. Aila put the mother duck down on the grass and held her until all the tired little babies waddled up for the reunion. Aila sat down on the grass beside them and then watched the little family plop into the water and gather together in the stream. Down the river they floated and bobbed and not once did they look back to say goodbye or thank you.
When Aila reached the patio, her hair was standing on end and the trickled blood had smeared and dried on her face and back. Her shorts were streaked with duck poop and stained with grass. Her arms and midriff were red from duck bill bites.
Her friends welcomed her with quizzical faces. She sat down in the shade of the patio umbrella, she laughed and dabbed at her wounds with a wet Kleenex and told them her Pied duckling story.
On a corner table a few feet away, someone had placed a red motorcycle helmet. The bright summer sun, at its peak of the solstice glinted off the helmet and caught Aila’s eye.
The waitress came over to her with a wine glass of cold Baby Duck. “From the gentleman in the corner.” She said.
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