These lists were the provocations, finally, that caused my better stuff to surface. I was feeling my way toward something honest, hidden under the trapdoor on the top of my skull. - Ray Bradbury

“It was with great relief, then, that in my early twenties I floundered into a word-association process in which I simply got out of bed each morning, walked to my desk, and put down any word or series of words that happened along in my head. I would then take arms against the word, or for it, and bring on an assortment of characters to weigh the word and show me its meaning in my own life. An hour or two hours later, to my amazement, a new story would be finished and done. The surprise was total and lovely. I soon found that I would have to work this way for the rest of my life.”

"I was beginning to see a pattern in the list, in these words that I had simply flung forth on paper, trusting my subconscious to give bread, as it were, to the birds. Glancing over the list, I discovered my old love and fright having to do with circuses and carnivals. This morphed into Something Wicked This Way Comes."

It was 7:23 on a cold December night. The musty air filled the boisterous room as ballerinas of all ages ran back and forth, preparing for the upcoming show. A wide array of colors spanned across the room, giving it the illusion of a bright candy shop. The tin soldiers were standing in a corner dressed in vivid red uniforms while the candy cane dancers gathered by the door. The mouse king was rehearsing a dance by the mirror and the sugar plum fairy was warming up at the bar. A small girl with chocolate brown hair and deep green eyes was sitting in another corner, mentally reviewing her dance steps. This was Emily Rose.

Jamie was dressed like a model from one of those classy vodka commercials. As Clyde swung his lean legs out of the car door, Jamie strode outside to greet him. The two embraced just as brothers do. Jamie attempted to conceal his innate joy, but Clyde's wide grin permitted reciprocation.

Sarah emerged from the car after Clyde. "Sarah, how are you?" said Jamie.

"Not too bad, Jamie. How's life as a single man?"

"Nothing feels better."

Sarah looked down as if to disagree. Jamie looked past her and into the back seat. "Oh my goodness," he exclaimed, "is this the newest member of the Jennings clan?"

"Yep," replied Sarah, "Rachael."

"She's great isn't she?" Clyde asked.

Jamie neared the window and peered in.

"Sure is. Three kids is a lot to handle, Clyde."

"The beauty of having children far outweighs the costs, Jamie," Sarah interjected. Jamie took a step back and casually placed his hands in his pockets.

Mishius looked at the star cluster in front of her and sighed. It was beautiful as it floated there an arms length away, bright glowing knots of stars pulsing with life, red, blue and bright yellow pinpoints throughout. When she first started this post 6 years ago she was awed and fascinated by the beauty and complexity before her. When did it all become so ordinary she wondered.

Mishius was a Denarian, young and ambitious, three meters tall, slender and beautiful, her copper skintight uniform highlighting her curves, her copper eyes and her soft blue skin.

She reached out with both hands into the star cluster and spread them apart, the stars in the cluster flying apart as the room filled with the now expanded star cluster. She looked left and right at thousands of stars tapping in the air in front of her bringing up data for each anomaly displayed, checking and cataloging them.

He stomped towards his room, his safe haven in that house which was more like a detention center. Why she even cares? I wish I had no Mom. were thoughts flashing in his mind among others which were more sinister. Struggling with his backpack he walked hurriedly but paused for a heart beat and turned to look at her fiercely making it unmistakably obvious how much he despised her.

The candle burns brightly at night
Tonight during day we can settle
Until all who comes to shelter in us
We can compare, contrast, never meddle

Karina fumbled furiously for her keys, her bag was a horrid mess. A boiling pot of old notes, some useless papers, crude poems and stories, candy wrappers and a lot of other things she just couldn't bring herself to throw away, a lot of them useless really. A soft drop of rain landed on her forehead as she felt the smooth rectangular card at the bottom of the mess. She hurried into the station.

"Captain! Captain! We have arrived at the Regalis system," echoed a piercing feminine voice from somewhere in the room as the lights brightened revealing the clutter of last night’s activity.

"Stop, Damn it! Turn those lights back down," I grumbled as I stumbled out of my rack hitting the deck with a thud, and hazily headed for the portal.

"As you wish Captain," came a resigned reply, and the room went black.
I promptly banged my shin into something hard and sharp and tumbled to the floor striking my head on something even sharper. I lay sprawled on the floor in the dark, my shin in pain, and my head now throbbing in double-time. The growing knot on my forehead pounding almost as fast as the pulsating throbs from the Seigen randy I drank last night.

Alone, hardly noticed by most far below,
falling each drop its own way.
As peddles to rose, each placed where it’s needed
making whole and complete the display.

Rain comes to lift me once again,
I’ve been down so many years.
Desperately needed by we who have waited,
held by dry earth, arrested here.

It was All Hallow’s Eve and the children were out in full force. The little ones were running from door to door yelling ‘Trick or Treat?’, and the occupants were handing out enough candy to keep any child on a sugar high until Valentine’s.

There was one lone Trick-or-Treater wandering around. This one was perhaps four feet tall, had emerald green eyes, and was completely bald. The oddest thing about this loner was that he did not appear to be wearing a costume.

Two children of perhaps nine years of age walked past him and he heard them bemoaning the person they had just called on. Each was dressed as a princess, one was wearing green and the other yellow.

“I told you not to bother knocking on his door, Nancy,” said the princess in green.

“I know, Mandy,” said the princess in yellow. “I just thought he might have changed.”

Holly is the average five year old. Red-headed, sweet, ball of energy. She never stopped, literally running everywhere. Her parents Mr. And Mrs. Robbin had quite the time keeping up with her. There was a day when Holly wanted to go to the park but her mother refused. Holly, in a fit of anger, opened the front door and stormed out. Her mother left the stove on and called her husband to help chase her. In all the commotion, Mrs. Robbin didn't notice she had left her oven mitt on the stove. It quickly caught fire. By the time they got home, the fire department had arrived and put out most of the fire. There was, unfortunately only so much they could save. Most of it was lost to the fire. They stayed with family for two weeks and Mr and Mrs. Robbin decided to move all together. The house wasn't the classic haunted house. It had the look but not the color. It was painted two shades of beige and had orange windowsills. Holly didn't like it too much. She felt that something was wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.