The Waterwood Box, 2

Catch up!

The Might family prepared for Adam’s birthday party all morning. They hung streamers, blew up balloons, and set up the folding table with lots of goodies. Mr. and Mrs. Might had indulged Adam this year by allowing him to have such a big party. Adam was grateful and glad to have his parents around. Some of his friends had it bad when it came to their families. Mr. and Mrs. Might had fights and they sometimes yelled – typically over silly things – but, when it was all said and done, the Mights loved each other and Adam knew it.

Barefoot, Adam walked around the backyard, his long toes helping him scout out sticks and large rocks to clear off the lawn. He was sure that his friends would want to play some touch football or soccer even if got to be ninety degrees in the shade. Adam and his friends never seemed to think much about the weather. When it was cold, they  wore more clothes, then went outside. When it was hot, they put on shorts and flip-flops, then went outside.

He picked up sticks and stones and hurled them out toward the back fence. Eventually, he found himself near the table his mom had set up for gifts. There were already lots of presents stacked upon the table; a few from his parents and others sent by relatives. As Adam paced slowly alongside the table, however, his eye caught something that stopped him in his barefoot tracks.

He noticed a box on the table that stood out from the other gifts. First, the box wasn’t wrapped at all. Second, there were no ribbons or bows holding the box together – no decoration whatsoever. Third, the box seemed to be made of wood. Adam picked up the box. It is wood. This is weird. No card. He flipped the box over a few times then shook it. Nothing moved inside. His curiosity got the best of him. He put his hand on the lid and –

The Waterwood Box, 2

Coming this April to a Kansas City Near You

Longtime readers may remember the 2016 Throwdown.

Well, this April, it’s time for a bigger, badder Throwdown:

http://www.spartanpresskc.com/throwdown/

https://m.facebook.com/Kansas-City-Poetry-Throwdown-1125871560862468/

Writers from: KY, CO, NC, TX, PA, CA, OH, NY, NJ coming to Kansas City, pencils in hand, ready to rumble with KS and MO’s own stanzic superstars. I encourage you to come witness the word-shed.

Coming this April to a Kansas City Near You

Hemingway’s Warning

There’s a cat in the closet
A cat in the closet
There’s a cat in the closet
For you and me

There’s a cat in the closet
A cat in the closet
There’s a cat in the closet
With golden feet

And that cat in the closet
Stoic feline in the closet
That cat in the closet
Bares bloody teeth

There’s a cat in the closet
Bloodthirsty cat in the closet
Golden kitty in the closet
For you and me

Hemingway’s Warning

The Waterwood Box, 1

It is the first Friday of a new year. For the past two years Devious Bloggery has run Friday experiments: 2015 was Friday Fun Facts. 2016 was Friday Lyrics Mash.

This year Devious Bloggery will be serializing a young adult novel for you on Fridays and Wednesdays (so as to break up the posts into more digestible chunks).

DB will also keep a running history of what’s been posted here.

So, without further ado, it’s Devious Bloggery’s pleasure to present to you throughout 2017:

The Waterwood Box

…we must all part
Into this sea of air
–William Shakespeare

Chapter 1
Adam Opens the Box

Adam opened his eyes. He rolled out from under his cozy covers with a half smile on his face. Today was Adam’s thirteenth birthday. He walked into the bathroom and splashed some cool tap water on his face. Thirteen, he thought. Adam dried his face and bounced down the stairs to the living room where his mom and dad sat watching the morning weather report. Mrs. Might looked up from the television, her round face glowing with a good mother’s love.

“Happy birthday, hon. Come sit down. What do you want for breakfast?”Adam squeezed between his parents on the couch. Mr. Might put his hand on Adam’s head and tried to smooth down Adam’s hair (which stuck up every which way). In a funny, exaggerated, Bronx accent Mr. Might said, “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

“Daaaaad.”

“Well, not technically a kiddo anymore, I suppose. But ‘Happy birthday, teen-o,’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Weatherman says it’s going to be another scorcher today. Should we move the party inside? We can clear up some space in the basement.”

The town of Edinburgh, IN hadn’t seen rain since the beginning of June. It was now the middle of August. The days between had been hot, dry, and downright dangerous for those without air conditioning. “No,” Adam replied. “Everyone knows it’s going to be a hot day. We’ll be OK outside.”

“I sure do wish it would rain, though,” said Mrs. Might. Adam looked at her and she winked. “Just not today.” Mrs. Might stood up from the couch. “No, no, not today, honey. Ivan,” she said to Adam’s father, “do you need some more coffee?” Mr. Might nodded. She took his coffee mug from the end table and left for the kitchen.

“Dad, can we watch something else?” The weather report was over and now the anchorpersons were interviewing someone about lemonade. “This is lame.”

“Lame?” Mr. Might passed the remote to Adam and got up from the couch. “Tell your mother I hopped in the shower.” Then Mr. Might went upstairs. Adam sat on the couch, flipping through channels until he found some decent cartoons. Thirteen’s not too old for cartoons, is it? he asked himself. Nah, fourteen – fourteen is definitely too old for cartoons.
—-

The Waterwood Box, 1