My Sunday Funnies - A little something for CSI Fans

First published by FMAM: Futures Mysterious Anthology Magazine, Spring 2004

My Saturday Stories, Poems, and Illustrations for Kids - The glass slipper

First Published in Spellbound - A Fantasy Magazine for Children

The elf sat at his cobbler's bench every night. He had made shoes with laces, buckles, and bows. He made and repaired shoes for gardening, dancing, and running with friends. This was the first time that he had only one thing on his workbench. He had heard the legends about it. He hadn't believed that it really existed.

It was an open box. In the box surround by silver packing grass was the glass slipper and a note. The note said to take out the tiny tubes and jars. Very carefully he dug around in the box and picked out a small tube of gold paste, another tube of silver paste and six tiny jars of sparkling stardust. There was also a purple silk cloth, a blue fuzzy brush, and a spray bottle that just fit in his hand.

The elf went back to the note and read the directions through twice. He needed to do this perfectly so that it would maintain its magic. He picked it up and studied it. It was dusty, had cobwebs, scratches, and a small chips in the heel. He sighed and began to carefully dust it off. Once clean the magic could begin.

He began by mixing the red stardust with the silver paste and rubbed it into all of the scratches and small cracks. He read the chant over and over again as he worked. He was amazed at how fast the rough spots became smooth. Next he picked up the yellow stardust and added it to the gold paste and pushed it into the hollow chips in the heel.  He could feel it sealing the chips, smoothing them out using the pressure of his fingers wrapped in the silky purple cloth.

Time flew by. He suddenly felt tired. The glass slipper was repaired but still looked dull. There was no sparkle. He opened up the remaining jars of stardust and added them to equal amounts of silver and gold paste. Carefully he brushed them on to the shoe. He reread the directions and let it sit for ten minutes as he repeated another set of magical words.

Finally he grabbed the spray bottle and sprayed it all over the slipper inside and out. A stream of watery rainbows circled the slipper as it began to sparkle. He let it sit for another five minutes. Finally he began to carefully polish the glass slipper uttering the last set of magical words.

He carefully put the glass slipper in the box just as the sun was beginning to rise and warm the windows. He was surprised that the darkest corner of the room was also beginning to glitter. The shimmering sphere got brighter and brighter. Eyes wide he saw a set of luminous wings attached to the shoulders of a beautiful lady. Her voice was musical and filled him with joy.

She inspected the slipper turning it over in her hands. Happily his work was done and her magical work had just begun.

Squirrelly Thursday - Red Squirrel Twabble and photo

Red Squirrel
By Marcia A. Borell

The hyperactive climbing, jumping red squirrel bounces across my yard. He gnaws strewn seeds. I focus my camera. Snap.

A Twabble is exactly 100 characters long... counting punctuation but not: spaces, linefeeds, etc. http://twitfic.net/sizingtool/twabble_sizing_fun.htm

Wednesday - My Art - Fantasy, Sci-fi, and Horror - The collection

The Collection

By Marcia A. Borell

With trembling hands she picked up the ornate antique magnifying glass. She was surprised to see her reflection in the glass and how much younger she looked. It took her back to the first time she wore it. Long black bias cut velvet dress, a gardenia in her hair, and the silver magnifying glass dangling between her breasts from its long heavy silver chain. In her prime she would have been referred to as a looker, that memory made her smile.

She picked up the goldfish pendant, delicate yellow, orange with a bit of red blown glass. It was a gift from her Aunt and would need much care. She remembered how carefully she would hook the clasp making sure that the glass fish would be secure. As she put it back in the box on the table she caught yet another look of a much younger self in the glass. Yes, nineteen, she wore it on her first date with the young man that would become her husband.

She caught another glimpse of herself in the glass. She was a very serious nine year old. She had just opened up a small box containing a silver elephant. A gift from her much traveled Grandmama. It was something that she had always treasured and had worn as she traveled the world.

Yes, the snake pin, it had always stood for resolving and healing issues. Today transformation was the gift of this pin. She carefully put it in its box and attached the last name tag. All of her collection was now boxed and labeled. She watched as the shadow of a cat moved along the wall. It was time.

She rested her head back on the chair and could feel the warm breath of the cat she had lost when she was ten. He began to purr and rub his cheek on her chin. She could hear the thump of a tail as her Brittany spaniel returned as a young pup and jumped up on her lap. More purrs, more wagging tales, the sound of wings surrounded her, on her shoulder, on her lap, and under her feet wrapping her in love.

The nurse put down her chart and took her pulse surprised by the small green feather in her hand and an odd assortment of what looked like cat or dog hair on her gown. The nurse saw the small box with her name on it. She bent down and kissed the top of her head. Tears she never shed were running down her cheeks. She patted the dear old woman's hand. She would miss her stories and her love of life. She paused at the door taking in for one last time the sense of peace, joy, and laughter that lingered in the room.

My cell phone - My lack of attachment

My cell phone, for the most part, lives in my 6 inch x 4.5 inch x 3 inch thick black leather shoulder bag. It lives there with either my large ring of keys or my 4 inch x 2.25 inch x 1 inch cameras. Yes, I have 2 Sony cameras - the other is a bit smaller. I am not sure my phone is happy. I think it knows that I do not truly love it, care about it, and ignore it until I need it. I am devoted to my cameras. They capture those special moments. My phone is for immediate needs, immediate questions, and immediate fixes. It is not a smart phone; it is a flip tracfone and being a person that prefers voice to voice contact... I do not text. Perhaps that is why it decided to go into hiding Friday night, maybe just to see if I cared.

My cell phone was super useful to communicate with my family as we tried to arrange a time for all to gather at the park for dinner and play time for all of my grandchildren. There were many delays but it worked out and my camera got lots of great photos and even some wonderfully cute movies. The phone lost its spot to the camera and keys ending up in my pocket. It was a rather shallow pocket but worked for those moments when I needed quick access to use it.

The day was drawing to an end, it was time to pack up and get the kids home. I was going to watch two of them overnight and was really happy to get to spend some extra time with them. We had a great time, a wonderful weekend of love and laughs and many more photos. I have a land line so my cell phone is not my principle way of making phone contact.

Sunday came and it was time to put more time on my phone. I had not needed to go shopping so I had not opened my black leather bag until then. When I did I had my keys and that was all I had. No cell phone.

I went from shock to what the #@%* did I do with my phone. I had taken my camera out immediately on getting home. I had absolutely no memory of the phone... I seemed to remember throwing it on the passenger seat of my car... but it was not there when I went to check.

I did use the land line and called my phone. It did not answer me. It was Sunday I began the search. Books flew off of the nightstand, the dust bunnies under beds were inspected, drawers opened and turned inside out, anything with pockets was checked and rechecked.

Nothing.

That Sunday night I could not sleep. I needed to check the park. My cell phone could have jumped ship and fallen from my pocket. Monday I was at the park at 7:30 AM, the morning light was good, the grass was wet, the sprinklers had been on. My poor phone - had it fallen onto the road and become a hit and run victim, was it wet, had it been picked up by a stranger, if I found it would it still work?

I did not find it. Still nothing! The search continued all day and night Monday.

Today, Tuesday, I took my husband's advice and pulled my car into the sunshine. I unloaded every bit of trail mix, every crumpled tissue, every wrinkled receipt, every water bottle cap, and every bit of trash that had hidden under the seats of my car.

As long as I was cleaning out all the crevices I decided to also vacuum it out. And if I was going to vacuum it out, I might as well do a thorough job and move the seats up and really get in there and clean.

I was vacuuming the behind the passenger seat when I noticed a small black bump in the track for the seat. Hmmmm, it did not match the track on the other side. I picked at it and knocked the object out of the track. I could not believe it. It was my phone. I was thrilled. I closed the car doors and ran into the house.

My cell phone was in cardiac arrest but was easily revived with some defibrillation from its power cord. I also immediately got on my computer and added an additional 90 days of life and an extra 60 minutes. It is now evening here. I have a clean car. I have my cell phone. I am happy. I hope my cell phone is happy. It is back in my black shoulder bag next to my keys.

Don't tell anyone but I did give it a little kiss. I did tell it I missed it and I was very happy it was back. And yes, I have checked my black shoulder bag a few times to make sure it is still there. Maybe I will knit or crochet my cell phone a little wrap in hot pink or warning yellow - black fades much too easily into the darkness. 

Maybe I should give it a name... maybe Kitty... you get less weird looks in a park if you are calling, "Here Kitty. Here Kitty, Kitty."

My Sunday Funnies - Horror Cartoon - Pick your poison.

First published in FMAM:  Futures Mysterious Anthology Magazine, Summer, 2003

Saturday Stories and Poems for Children - The Night Fairy

First published in Lightning Bugs, the poetry of Erin Donahoe, 2003

The Night Fairy

by Marcia A. Borell

She wings her way through warm night skies,

Flying in the glow of fireflies.

Cricket music brings her delight,

She adds the songs of birds of night.

Feeling the rhythm in her toes,

Tapping them now on pointe she rose.

The dragonfly begins to twirl,

Pirouettes with the fairy Pearl.

They tango, waltz, and jitterbug,

Sleepy they  share a final hug.

Dancing all night they all need sleep,

Into bed they all slowly creep.

With red rosebuds Pearl made a bed,

as dreams of dancers fill her head.

Night fades and the moon and stars set,

Now sunrise gleams a gold rosette.