Happy St Patrick's Day 2015

Every year on St. Patrick's Day I share this little dialogue only tale. It isn't anything spectacular, but I had a fun time writing it. It may be better after a couple of green beers ;) Enjoy! Watch out for little people today!

Luck: A Short Story

by: J.J. M. Czep

“Stop yer squirming.  You’re only hurtin’ yerself fightin’ like that.  Just give me what I’ve rightfully earned.”

“Aye, an’ what be this thing you’ve earned by trussin’ up an ol’ man, eh?”

“Donnot try t’ play me for a fool imp.  I know the rules o’ your kind.”

“Indeed?  An’ what be the rules of an imp, then?”

“You must grant me a wish.”

“That be the rules o’ the little people, the Leprechauns, not old imps.”

“You know what you are!”

“Aye, but you said I was an imp.”

“Enough.  You’re a Leprechaun.  An’ I know that means you owe me a wish.”

“Aye, indeed, if that be what I am.  I owes ye a wish.  So what ‘ave ya?”

“I’ll ‘ave your gold.”

“Aye, ehm, well, for that ye’ll have t’ be lettin’ me go.”

“No way.  I know how tricky you folk are.”

“Aye, an’ still ye be a fool.  How am I t’ lead ye to me gold if’n I’m unable even to git there meself?”

“I suppose that is true.  But, what if I let you go an’ it’s all a trick?”

“That’s a chance you’ll have to be takin’.  If ye want the gold.  An’ you do want the gold, don’cha?”

“I want the gold.”

“Y’ could make a wish instead.”

“I’d wish for the gold, then.”

“Aye, well to ‘ave that wish you’ll have to do as I said previous.”

“Fine. Then, I’ll tie this ribbon to you so you can lead me an’ not run off.”

“If that be a way t’ ease yer mortal mind.”

“It be.”

“We’ve been walkin’ some time.  These woods are thick and it is getting’ dark.  This better not be a trick.”

“No trick, good sir fool.  You asked fer me gold, I be leadin’ ye right on to it.”

“Down there?”

“Aye, if ye wants the gold.  I’ll have to be goin down there to git it.  Your leash be a bit too short.”

“This is another trick.  If I let you down that hole you’ll not come back out.”

“Aye, now what good would it ‘ave done me t’ lead ye this far.  Ye sees the rainbow.  Ye sees it’s colours runnin’ right into that hole there.  So, it mus’ be so, the gold is there.”

“True.”

“There’s still time to change yer wish though.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Well, so it tis, then.”

“Just get the gold.”

“So you’ll be settin’ me free then?”

“Aye, but I am goin’ down there for the treasures.  I’ll not have you lock me away from it all by some magic.”

“Of course, of course!  I would not dream of such a thing, but if ye be insistent upon it, down with ye. I will keep well enough in this dark, an’ dangerous wood, all by my little lonesome.”

“Good then. Ah! Look at it! Jus’ look at it all! I’ll be comfortable for the rest of my years!”

“Aye, of course, of course, sir fool.”

“Leprechaun, help me out wit’ this load.”

“Now, see here then.  I helped ye t’ my treasures an’ travelled with a fool ribbon about my person to appease yer lack o’ trust.  Like some animal I was leashed t’ ye through a wood where I knows folks. An’ all this after ye tricked me int’ a trap of devilish devising. An’ now, ye needs my help t’ gets out of the hole ye got yerself into. Tsk, tsk, sir fool.”

“Leprechaun!  You tricked me!”

“No, no, my fool.  You ‘ave me gold as you asked.  I told ye to be lettin’ me go.  I told ye t’ be mindin’ yer wishes.  But, now, ye be havin’ me gold.  The ‘hole’ load of it.  Far too much fer one man, los’ in the wood, t’ be carrying back t’ enjoy.  Ye should’ve listened when I said to let me free. Should’ve made another wish at least.”

END

Writing Gift: A Short Story About Mud Pies

Mud Pie Woes

A Short Story

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the on scene reporter bellowed over the din, “we are at the edge of what appears to be the largest, well,” she paused to collect her thoughts, “mud puddle in the Tri-state area. No one is quite certain how this puddle formed but local university geologist, Peter Kline, and his assistants are on the scene in an attempt to answer that very question.”

The camera panned over the expanse of dark brown muck that had taken over the corner of Fraugh and 92nd Street.  

“Geez Ray, can you believe this mess?” Karen mumbled to her camera man as she stepped out of the frame to adjust the lapels of her powder blue blazer.  

“I have never seen anything like it, ma’am.”  Ray continued his pan of the devastation.  

Ray zoomed on what looked to be a gable similar to the surrounding homes, as the tip blipped out of sight into the soft earth, Ray scanned the crowd for more interesting activity.  The frame tipped over the top of a small head bobbing through the chaos.  

“We should really get an interview with Kline.” Karen checked her makeup in the reflective surface of the camera.  

Ray switched off camera to conserve power before seeking white lab coats.  

“He looks busy at the moment.” He said and gestured a man in uniform.  “We could interview the new deputy first.”

Karen nodded. They picked between throngs of people and the edges of the gummy ground.

Police officers struggled to control the growing swarm of onlookers surrounding the tremendous bubbling, brown pit.

“Please, people you have to back away.  No one’s sure what caused this or if it could expand.”  The young officer called into the crowd.

Deputy Henderson’s looked over the mud puddle with resentment that his first time out was not his ideal police assignment.  He sighed and continued pushing back the crowd.  

Henderson caught sight of a small figure sneaking between a group of legs just out of range.  Before he could move in on the situation or send another officer to do so a large man shouldering a camera blocked his way.

The lovely but stern news anchor, Karen Owen thrust a microphone in the young officers freckled face.  Henderson was trapped.  

He put on his best public relations face and prepared for questions he could not answer.

“Approximately nine meters across sir judging by the calculations of the circumference.”  Gregory offered clip-boarded notes to his supervisor.

“Yes, yes,” Professor Kline nodded; he flipped pages of the report, “but do we have any idea as yet how it was formed?”

Gregory lolled his head side to side before turning his attention back to the burbling center of the pool.  The crowd, those that saw, backed away a bit from the burping lake.  Gregory’s encounters nor case studies, ever offered such a strange occurrence.  He looked to Professor Kline for guidance but his mentor’s face was a contortion of confusion.

A tiny tug at his lab coat pocket drew Kline’s attention to a small girl.

“Mister,” her pale doe eyes shimmered, “I’m real sorry mister.  My friends and I, well, we din’t mean to make such a big mess.”

Kline raised an eyebrow at the small, filthy child.  “How did you get past the barricade, young lady.”  

Gregory moved to shuffle the child back to the line of officers, knowing how little tolerance his superior had for children. The girl wriggled free of Gregory’s grasp leaving slick mud wherever his coat touched her hair and clothing.  

The professor raised a hand to allow the child to speak.

“Well, sir, see we just wanted to make a mud pie.  But see, the pipe in back of the house,” the child’s eyes welled, “it burst.” Streaks of pale cheek appeared through the blackish caked mud as tears washed the mud.    “My mom is gonna be so mad.  She just washed the sheets this morning.”

Gregory heard his voice blurt before he could compose himself.  “Little girl, are you saying that your house is in the middle of this puddle?”  

The child nodded, a flood of tears running down threatened to add to the puddle.

Professor Kline looked from the girl, to the puddle, to the reports in his hands.  Gregory watched for some cue of the mood the professor might choose.  Ray’s camera was rolling but Karen merely held the microphone near the professor’s face.

Writing Prompt: Admiration

Admiration. Most of us admire someone who has touched our lives. We are inspired to do better in their presences. We feel a bit nervous too, perhaps. It is a natural experience. At some point we have also been the object of admiration. What does that feel like?

I cannot think of just one person I have admired in my life. Experiencing the greatness of others brings me joy and at the same time a little bit of humility. At the same time, I have those exact feelings when someone shows admiration for my work, or just my energy. This past weekend put me in both positions equally.

As I walked down Main Street in Mesa, glimpsing the unique treasures offered by the local vendors selling pieces of themselves on Small Business Saturday, I admired the abilities of each of these men and women. I admired their drive to succeed at their passions and work the extra hours, or go without, to make their dreams happen. They are each offering a part of their lives to the people passing. Whether you bought something this Saturday or simply gave a small business owner a moment of your time, I admire you as well. Anyone who chooses to give a unique gift rather than stock up on the latest mass produced, soulless trinket, is just as deserving of admiration.

It is still strange to count myself among those who are “making it” in their dream. I often feel I am not doing enough, I am not good enough, I am just not enough. So, when I see admiration in the eyes of others, directed at me or my books, or dancing, or praise a reading I have done for them, I admit I am still trying to figure out what to do with that. I am thankful, more than anything. To the young girl who wanted to take my picture beside the banner for Trolls, thank you! To the student from Phoenix Center from the Arts who recognized my book and me, and showed so much excitement at seeing me again, thank you! You made this author’s day. To all of the people who help me in so many ways from publishing my books and seeing something in me I have trouble seeing, to those who help me get out of bed in the morning on those particularly low days, thank you. I admire your gifts and your strength.

This holiday season, as we shop for the material, keep sight of the intangible as well. Give the gift of admiration by letting others know what their presence means to your life. Tell them what you specifically admire about them.

Who do you admire most this year?

When were you in a position to be admired? How did that make you feel?