The Joy Of Christmas

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Photo credit newquoteslife.blogspot.com

Photo credit
newquoteslife.blogspot.com

Torn paper adding to the

…Excitement…

Of children with gleaming

…Eyes…

Hearing shrieks of

…Laughter…

Santa left gifts from their Xmas

…List…

5:56 PM

Vera Robinson © 2014

Penelope Says Goodbye

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The Nameless Children built this chair for Penelope's spirit Photo taken by Ms. Vee

The Nameless Children built this chair for Penelope’s spirit
Photo taken by Ms. Vee

This is a sorrowful ending to a tragic short story. I wrote The Nameless Children Part I and II. It wasn’t well received nevertheless, I have to put end to the story.

This is a dark short story, so if you have the heart to read it, I have added the links for Part I and II. I am curious to know what you think of my story. Please leave a comment, positive or negative. I do enjoy writing from a dark side.

https://verajackson.wordpress.com/2013/03/20/the-nameless-children

https://verajackson.wordpress.com/2013/03/21/the-nameless-children-part-ii

Narrated by Ms. Vee…..

Penelope knows she’s dying. With each painstaking step, she is in chronic pain. Nothing will deter her from reaching the playground and seeing the children. She knows this will be the last time she will make the walk down the crooked dusty path.

Upon her arrival The Nameless Children form a circle around her. She collapsed on her favorite bench. She never felt the wet slime on the bench, until this moment, but she ignored it, and smiled.

Penelope spoke softly, and slowly. She addressed each of the children by name, beginning with the oldest. Alex, Brian, Xavier, Dawn, Anna, and Romona. Penelope’s voice was raspy when she said “Each one of you know that I love you dearly. I know you gave me the vision to see you, and my beloved Romona because you felt the connection and grief in my heart and soul when you were taken from this earth. I prayed each day, and asked God to forgive me for committing murder, and I will have to answer for my sin, very soon. Don’t feel any guilt for tossing those matches on that murdering bastard. I am tired, old, and sick.  It is time for me to close my eyes, and leave my weary body, and soul. I want you all to find peace, and not to be afraid of the rain, or fire. Play in this playground every day, and continue to fill the world with your laughter.

I can’t make the walk back home. I am going to lie on my favorite bench, with my loving children around me, and close my eyes.” Before Penelope could lift her feet up to curl on the bench; she died. It immediately started to rain, and The Nameless Children sobbed.

They buried Penelope under the bench, and built her a new one a few weeks later.

Alex, Brian, Xavier, Dawn, Anna, and Romona, sit on the bench at the playground every day!

….The End….

R.I.P.

A Poem From Mom

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What will you do, when I am gone?

I’ll tell you now, while I’m still around

Pick yourself up, and move along

Sing the tunes to my favorite songs

A happy song, of joy and life withstood

A low-keyed song during the rain

Shed no tears of sorrow

Don’t let your heart be burdened

Run along, stay on your feet

Weep not for me, my little darlings

Look above to the silver lining

There, there you see

That I am smiling

I had a conversation with my friend Dana last night, which inspired me to write this poem.

I hoped you enjoyed it. Thank you Dana!

The Nameless Children Part II

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playground

playground (Photo credit: MademoiselleChaos)

Welcome back. Come along. Sit down.

The tale of the nameless children continues…..

The youngest victims were drowned. Their corpses were floating along the river. They were found, not long after, they were reported missing. Decomposition of their bodies had already taken place. I see their wet bloated faces, with holes in it, where fish had been eating at them. Some of the nameless children have gashes in them. Birds had picked at them too. They appear to have a permanent grin fixed on their face; most of the skin is missing. Their teeth are very prominent.

Their agonizing screams, from long ago, have turned to laughter in this playground. On the anniversary day of the first burn victim, the playground is engulfed with thick black smoke. The anniversary day of the last drowned victim, there is torrential rain. Those are the two days; the nameless children aren’t in the playground.

I am here every day. One nameless child is mine. I place the long stem black roses under each swing.

I killed that son of a bitch! I drenched his body with gasoline. The nameless children and I, threw matches and watched his body burn to ashes. I threw his remains in the river.

The nameless children were silent that day.

Can you smell them?

Penelope

The Nameless Children I

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playground

playground (Photo credit: MademoiselleChaos)

The playground is full of children this afternoon. The sun is bright. The constant odor of stale smoke hangs in the air. The kids are running, and playing tag. The swings are creaking, with each forward, and backward movement. The rusty chains need to be oiled. The children don’t seem to mind. Their shrieks of laughter puts a smile on my face. Laying on the ground, under the six leg swing set, are long stem black roses. One for each child.

I visit the playground daily, sit on an old red, dry-rotted bench. The color is faded, and the wood is moist with green fungus, but it’s my favorite spot. I am the one who can see, and hear them. This is the only place the children are alive.

Sit beside me. My name is Penelope. I am going to tell you the tale of the nameless children.

Many years ago, a serial killer lived in our neighborhood. His victims were innocent children. He snatched them on their way to, or from this playground. He tortured them. They met their demise from being burned alive; or drowned.

The children that were burned, have charred bodies. Fingernails, and tiny pieces of skin, that resemble burnt newspaper, drop off their little bodies. I know you can’t see them, but you can smell them.

Oh my! Time has gotten away from me. I must go now. Meet me here tomorrow, so I can finish the tale of the nameless children.

To be continued………..

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