Tramp's Second Tail

-------------------The blurp about the story---------------------

A horrible thing has started
              to happen! The wonderful world
                                          of Once Upon a Time has--

It seems that someone
     Is ripping the pages out
         Like a tornado rips up homes
               With no cares about the memories stored there.
                        Then whoever the sick person in is gluing a new
                                Story to every few pages. The characters are getting
                                                lost on impact! And some stories just come to an


The Wizard of Oz seemed to be the last of its kind. It was the only one not dreadfully befuddled.

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And so it begins...

It all started with dear, old Dorothy and Once Upon a Time. When she was around her Kansas home, Dorothy and her pet dog, Toto, were out walking around the farms. The farms were dull in color with sepia browns and jaded greens. It was as if the entire scenery was nothing more than a faded picture of a long ago memory.

All of a sudden, as Dorothy hummed and Toto sniffed the ground, the sky darkened like a candle going out and the wind picked up speed as it whistled through the trees. Dorothy became startled. She ran toward her home. Hoping her Auntie Em and Uncle Henry would find a way to save her from the maddening darkness.

Toto looked around, noticing as the wind stopped howling and the sky lightened for an instant that something was amiss. His barking became the only sound as the birds fluttered East and the crickets deadened their already muffled chirps.

Toto ran.
     Toward Dorothy
            And their farm
                   To his family.
                          As the tornado grew
                                 Closer to his house
                                          Toto ran towards....

A Gingerbread Man?

Toto opened his eyes wide in fright as he continued to run knowing no idea what was in store. Where had Dorothy's screams gone? Where was the land of Munchkins and Lollipops? This wasn't the story with the normal twists. And what was it that he was smelling. The scent smelled like Auntie Em's homemade cooking around Christmas time but sweeter, softer, larger. 

As the Gingerbread Man ran passed him, the smell illuminated every sense of Toto's being and he did what any hungry dog would do. He chased him. He ran past the butcher, past the baker as he smacked his lips with anticipation of the aromatic sugars of the little man. He couldn't wait to sink his teeth into the smells he'd savor. 

Toto was gaining on the Gingerbread Man. 

      Toto opened his mouth, 

            His bark finally close enough to bite. 

                   The little man skittishly laughed 

                          And screamed yet again 

                               "YOU CAN'T CATCH ME I'M THE--"

"Big Bad Wolf!"

Toto sunk his teeth into the Wolf! "What happened to my fast, little cookie?" Toto gulped as he thought about the taste in his mouth. "What happened to the candied icing and cinnamon flavor as it wafted to my nose!" Toto looked up at the Wolf with his tail between his legs and his heart racing a mile a minute. 

The Wolf looked furious and downright ferocious. Toto did what any dog would do in the face of danger. He ran the opposite direction! He was afraid of becoming a delicious snack himself! Toto became the one running as fast as he could. 

He dashed past the three blind mice searching

    For fallen cheese and past the crazy chicken screaming 

           About some falling sky under an acorn tree. Just when 

                 He seemed to have outran the Wolf, he saw the true problem 

                       He was facing. The page he was on became a wall of words 

                             Being torn out of the story! "This was it!" Toto thought. 

                                    "I am going to leave the story, like Dorothy getting abandoned, 

                                          And that sweet dessert getting away from me!" 

                                                 The page loomed closer... 

Toto stood still, held his breath and jumped!

Into the next story...

    Landing, on a chair

        Next to an italian restaurant 

            With a gorgeous brown dog

                  Across the checkerboard table

                      Eating spaghetti with meatballs

                          Waiting for him to dive in.

                               He rolled a meatball over to 

                                    Her with his nose. She shyly smiled.

"Ah..." Toto sighed. "There is no place like home."

This Time of Year Can Make You F.A.L.L.

It's in the air.

As the leaves turn to 

burgundy and the

weather steals a chill.

It's around us,

--growing us,

--giving us

 a chance at wonder

as the sun chases

the cotton clouds.

It's in the sky

our feelings are heightened,

our senses like fireworks

at the touch of our

fingertips through the 

crunch of newly fallen 

leaves.

It's a part of us,

--encourages us,

--makes us

feel more in each breath

than we could our 

whole lives.

It's on the ground.

In the earth, throughout the soil.

We feel the heartbeat of

the world as our own beats

with another.

We hear as the whispers around 

the planet creates us,

--changes us,

--moves us

in every aspect of the 

ever-changing season

The Art of Flying

It was left in the rain.
The purple color faed, the chapters
smudged and the soggy pages cried.
It was stuck on the sidewalk,
abandoned in a rectangular prison
that held penguins and dolphins trapped on each
page. The book, alone and frightened, as the
sidewalk was a scary place where
harmful people trampled with no one
looking downward.

It wasn't long before the papers
lost hope. Knowing they'd never
fall to deaf ears. Understanding they
wouldn't be the smart source for readers
to find. Perceiving that its soft pages would never
again find the enjoyment of a soul and
the laughter of the child finding it all too handy.
The book was alone in a big, dark and soaked
world where no one watched where
they were walking.

One day, the rain stopped.
The sun shone and
the pages began to dry their tears. The book
exhaled from the heat. The sidewalk
no longer seemed so
scary. Then a weird thing happened.
Right as the
     chapters softened,
         the pages, one by one,
                     floated
                            toward the sky.
                                                                               upward,
Blowing in the wind. The colorful pages moved             since no one bothered
                                                                                                                            looking down.

Fields of Opportunity

You are open.
Free.
With the wind
in your blades
and the melody of the birds
always around you.
Your fingers are home
to the animals of tomorrow
that know nothing more than the
sweet taste of serenity.

Don't be the rip-

The roar.

With metal daggers

in your air

and the clanking of footsteps

on top of you.

Your desires can sprawl

to the beings of pain

that know nothing more than the 

limited feel of animosity.

Refuse to be as confined as a sidewalk

When you can be a field of opportunity.

Where the Ground Meets the Sky

There are two types of 

leaders in the world. Those 

that look at the sky 

and say, 

"We can get there" and those 

that look at the ground 

and say, "We can 

build from here." 

...Which one are you?

Longing to Fly

She stared at the window, 

longingly knowing that freedom 

was beyond the forcefield. 

Wanting to know what freedom 

felt like against her silvery wings. 

What the sun's calling heat felt like

on her beak.

The window left cracked--

she pulled herself up and 

nudged her feathers out. 

trying to move like the world did: 

effortlessly and beautiful

she fluttered and flapped

...uselessly.

She stared up at the forcefield

of torture and longing dreams.

The home had paralyzed her.

Her efforts were shallow. Her 

bravery was halted. She hoped 

to fly, to mend, to live without 

clipped wings.

Open Waters: Dare to Try Again?

They threw me in the ocean as
I gasped for a breath, I lost myself
In the blue waters. Up--Down--Left
No way led to salvation.
It was float or swim
And I sank.

Down at the bottom
It didn't matter what I found.
Because I knew which way
Was up. So I took the seaweed
And the bubbles I could find.
Constructing a raft.
And I swam.

Up to the succulent air
Reaching it, I threw my head back
Focused my eyes, envisioned my
Success. And drew my first
Breath. I felt rejuvenated
Unconquerably defiant
And I floated.

Around in the wind
Until they stole my raft
Yet again crashing me into the waves.
Laughing as they turn my hands to
Bricks and my heart to stone.
And watched as I sank.