The Difference

An explosion of vibrant flavor bursts in your mouth as you take the first bite.  The monstrous amount of natural sugars and syrups are making your mind fuzzy with delight.  You close your eyes as a bit of juice rolls down your chin. Your facial expression brightens as you glance as the dingy fruit stand that lies in front of you.  It’s pieced together from scraps of wood, and it’s hand-painted phrase, “freshly picked fruit” is peeling at the edges,  But you know what?  That doesn’t matter,  The strawberry you just consumed was picked straight from the vines.  Your own eyes could see those crops in the distance, and you know that there is a difference.

It takes some muscle to crack open the plastic container. You pick up a stiff, pale red strawberry and examine it.  The top has specks of green, not quite ripe enough.  You bite into it.  You taste chemicals and pesticides woven into the fruit inside.  It’s tangy, and clings to your teeth.  The leaves feel like cardstock, and the seeds are bunched together like straight, orderly, ordinary lines.

There is a difference.

….

I dunno, kind of short. but I thought I’d write it anyways.  I know I haven’t posted on here in quite some time, but I promise that won’t happen again.  Pinky swear, OK?

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Hoodwinked Eggs

Hoodwinked Eggs

 

Laila savored the pink chocolate egg in her mouth, it’s chocolatey layers melting one by one.  Visions of the next day’s events danced in her head, the blossoming flowers, the vibrant baskets, all pieces of her favorite holiday: Easter.  She had stolen her favorite delectable Easter treat from the clutches of a clear bowl on a high shelf.  She tightly grasped a handful of chocolate Easter eggs under the cover of her bed sheets, in hopes that nobody would find her out.  But those wishes were promptly squashed as her ears detected footsteps.  Her immediate assumption was that her father was coming to lay many punishments upon her.  Perhaps I dropped an egg on the floor accidentally, she thought.  But when she glanced down the dimly lit hallway, there was no shadow of her father to be seen.   

 

And then a dark chocolate Easter bunny stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself to the astonished Laila.  He was not the average chocolate easter bunny, he was not depicted frolicking in flowers or carrying a basket of chicks, but his facial expression was twisted in a scowl, his paws firmly placed on his hips.  

“How dare you?”   he asked with surprising authority,

“How dare I what?”  

“How dare you go around, biting off the heads of our kind, stealing our eggs, and liking it?”

“Excuse me?”  Laila drew up the covers guiltily, further concealing her hoodwinked eggs.

Without any more explanation, he hopped away, and Laila was undeniably inclined to follow, so she did. She absolutely loved chocolate easter bunnies, and she had a feeling this particular one wasn’t hollow.  She imagined tasting the mouth watering dark chocolate on her tongue, all her senses in a Cacao coma.

 

Laila creeped up on his tiny figure, licking her lips, her fingers so close to touching his carefully molded body, until- he snapped around.  

 

“You-you tried to eat me!”

“No…” she realized that there was no way she could talk her way out of it,

“No, I was just trying to, um, pick you up!  Yeah, carry you!”

“Mmhmmm…”

 

Careful to hold her tongue, Laila and the alive chocolate Easter Bunny crept down the rickety stairs, and sulked into the living room.  It was a wide space decorated completely with bright yellow daffodils and clumps of paper grass spreading on every single inch of floor area.  They stood in silence, a devilish grin creeping across the otherwise adorable rabbit.  Laila nearly jumped out of her ironic fuzzy rabbit slippers when she saw what sprang out of the neon paper grass….   

 

Hundred of mini chocolate bunnies sprang out like cannons.

“Awww!”  was her quick response, until it was abruptly cut off by an army of militant Easter Bunnies, looks of cute hatred invading their facial expressions as they piled at Laila’s feet, overpowering her balance until she toppled with a crunch onto the multitude of paper grass,  thankfully crushing a few of her attackers.  

 

More chocolate bunnies than she could ever imagine scrambled on top of her, tickling her belly and throwing the colored eggs she and her family had hidden earlier that night.  Laila shrieked a variety of insults, “I like white chocolate WAY better,” “I bet you all are HOLLOW inside,” but nothing seemed to stop the bunnies down, until the original Easter time Treat that had broken into her bedroom hopped up onto the leather ottoman.  

 

“I, Sir Nubbins of the Chocolate Rabbit Brigade Guard, demand that this human be put to justice!”

 

Sir Nubbins’ comrades pumped their paws in agreement.   

 

“B-but what did I do?”  Laila asked, out of breath even though the Easter bunnies had caused her no more than a bruise from a pink, yellow, and orange striped egg.

“Your very honorable Sir Nubbins,”  a female bunny-soldier began with a bow, “We have many charges against this girl!  Robbery, murder, vandalism, just to name a few!”

 

“Whoah, whoah, whoah…. Murder?  Vandalism?”  Laila was stunned.

A very business like hare stepped out of the shadows with a very sharp vest and snazzy monocles.  

“Why yes,”  he tapped his claw on his clipboard, “You, human, have robbed us from our eggs, murdered our fellow community members, eaten some alive, AND you once smeared their remains on your family’s car window, at the expense of your mother’s scolding.  Now what do you have to say for yourself?”

 

Every single little one of their beady eyes turned their attention to Laila.  “I…”  she guiltily recalled the trouble she had caused when she had smeared the head of one of them when she was smaller; But how could she possibly know they were alive?

 

And more importantly, how would she talk her way out of this one?  

 

She tried her hardest to look sad, even though nobody could understand how much she wanted to pick one of them up and stuff it whole into her mouth.  “I understand how you must feel,” she mustered all her power into one tragic, grief stricken look, “And I am sorry to tell you that you chocolate bunnies are a delicious Easter treat.  Your eggs are a common junk food consumed during this time of the year, for pure entertainment,”  I didn’t even know bunnies could lay eggs…she thought, “But I’m also happy to tell you that we enjoy your chocolatey goodness and that…” Laila gave them a sweet smile and said, “You are just too good.”
And with that, she stomped wildly around her living room, happily crushing the little chocolate creatures, until none of them could scream at her any longer.  And Laila truly had the darkest, most sweet, and the best Easter yet.   

samantha

Memories

Memories

 

Hi there!  So my name is Samantha, and you can call me Queen of books, but Sam works just as well.  🙂

I’m so excited, because this is my first post on The Writing Writers!

I love, Love, LOVE, books!  I’m obsessed with them, I pet them 7 hours a day, and I fully confess to buying books just because they have pretty covers.  #ownit

I like to write stories, but somehow, (namely procrastination..)  I never get past the first few chapters…

I do, however, love to write short stories in my spare time, and those babies will be posted here!  I hope you enjoy this one, it has been entered in a writing contest in my city, and I’m hoping I win!

The theme of that writing contest was Friendship, so I decided to create a touching story, as friendship can be a touching subject.  I hope you’re looking forward to my content on this blog, because I sure am!

I also ❤ American Girl, and I have 8 dolls that you can read about on my doll blog, agdollawesome

But if you’d like to visit my book/personal/writing blog, then hop on over to Redheadwithabook!

….

 

Glops of tears dripped from the little boy’s eyes, “You’re really leaving me Spout?”

Spout’s heart could almost burst from seeing Luke Sawyer  weep.  To him, there had never been a more special, caring, and playful little boy in the whole wide world.  His mind slowly closed a curtain on the present events and drifted to the past…

There had to have been at least a bajillion bubbles in the air, surrounding Luke and Spout in a huge gulp of shimmery film.  Luke patted Spout’s fin, “It’s a good thing you’re a dolphin, Spout, so you can blow all these bubbles for me!”  Spout nodded, happy he could be of use.

But while the two frolicked in the sunlight,  Mrs. Sawyer aimed her burning gaze through the window.  In her mature eyes, she saw her clumsy little son, running about outside, and speaking to nobody but himself.  She knew nothing  of the magical experience little Luke was having in his mind.  And with that, Mrs.Sawyer frowned deeply.

The following day, John Sawyer, Mrs.Sawyer’s first born, turned up at the front door at the usual time, to escape his tedious work required at his high school.  His cruel words that were often aimed at adults, were unfortunately aimed at his bothersome little brother, Luke.

“Spout, let’s eat a snack!”  Luke exclaimed with his customary eagerness for food.

Unluckily, John happened to be sulking through the halls at that very moment, and struck Luke’s face with a heavy hand.  Tears began to slowly fall from Luke’s eyes, but he knew better than to talk back to his older brother.

“As far as I know, there ain’t’ no Spout living here you little-”

“Yes there is John!  He’s right next to me right now, and we are trying to get a snack!”

Spout released a defiant trill at John.  

Yet he knew it didn’t do any good.  All down the stairs, Luke whispered “Real!” down every step.  Spout hoped that he was much more real than John.  

The days soon began to feel seemingly endless to Spout as soon as he gave Luke a peck on the cheek before he departed for his first day of kindergarten.  Spout had known his time with Luke was running out.  He stared lonesomely out of the window while watching Luke toss a football back and forth with another little boy his age named Ethan.  And just like that, Luke never had time to blow bubbles with Spout anymore.

As much as Spout resisted by swimming in his recollections of the past, he knew it was time to bid farewell to his best friend in the universe.

Luke’s tears kept coming, like a gushing waterfall.

“Yes, Luke, it is time for me to leave you.  But I would never do such a thing without the gift of an abundance of our happy shared memories.”

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