Tag Archives: literature

Vegetables As Creative As Me!

3 Aug

One of the best parts about having your own garden is the way the vegetables turn out! I got a curly bean yesterday, and a carrot with legs! We ate them, of course, horrific as it seems. I had to fight my husband for the curly bean off his plate…

it was good.

Off to a wedding this weekend. Back to Bremerton and yet another horrifying ferry experience (not a big fan of cars over water). My best friend is pregnant, so I get to go visit her, too. The best part about that is that it keeps me away from the wine.

I should have more pregnant friends.

And the best news yet is that Knight Angels: Book of Revenge is just about done, and heads off to the editor today! I’m happy to be done with it, for the next month at least (gives me time to do my taxes I had to get an extension on. Writer’s taxes are complicated).

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The End… It’s near!

14 Jul

I’m elated…

…Because yesterday I finished Knight Angels: Book of Revenge! This is the second book, and I’ve been working on it for what feels like forever! I got so distracted with the fun of Knight Angels: Book of Love that I fear I let myself slow down – not good!

Writing is tricky in that it’s the one thing you want to do, but the one thing that’s super easy to be distracted away from. Take Ste-eve here (above), he was one of my distractions. Being published in Brazil was another. Then the Fourth of July is always distracting, because I like explosives…

and lastly, I really love to cook in the summer time…

So, basically, it was a long road. Now, it’s all about editing, editing, editing, for the next few months. It’s my fault that the schedule to release it in the summer got behind – so blame me!

 

A Room Fit For A Pixie…

3 Jun

Once upon a time, there was a room…

 

It was a basement room where travelers once stayed, but after the travelers left to find a home of their own, the room sighed with loneliness and longing.

“I’ll fix you!” I exclaimed. “You will be fit for even the pickiest of guests! Even a Pixie!”

The room frowned, doubtful of my abilities to breathe life back into his lonely walls – his bare, dented being.

I just shook my head, using the room’s doubt to fuel my ambitions.

All day I worked, lathering the walls, scrubbing the floor. Soon, soft surfaces began to appear within his bare heart: fabrics, curtains, and plush pillows for warmth.

I saw the room grin, though he did not mean for me to see it. He did not want me to know that I was right – I could fix it!

When the work was done I stood back with a sigh, admiring the beauty of the rooms new heart.

 ♥

The room caved in. “Thank you,” he breathed happily, a glint of a giggle in the voice.

I nodded with satisfaction. It was indeed a room fit for the pickiest of Pixie’s…

My mother.

The Quail Egg and the Garden: A Story of a King

24 May

Growing impatient, Egg fell from the nest, rolling downhill until it came to a rest in a patch of soft grass.

Mother shrieked as she saw Egg roll, fluttering after Egg as branches and vines slapped against her face. “My egg!” she cried. “My egg!”

Father heard Mother and quickly ran from the lawn where he had been snacking, following Mother’s voice.

“Mother! Mother! What happened?” Father came upon Mother, the white speckled skin of Egg resting on a bed of old pine needles.

“He rolled right out of the nest!” She screamed.

Father gasped. “But why?” Father then noticed the disturbed Earth around him, the small forest of sweet smelling shoots growing in a precise pattern of rows.

Mother and Father looked to Egg, it’s crown still fastened upon it’s head. “You found a garden, Egg.”

Egg said nothing, sitting there with pride.

“But, Egg, you are too young to claim your first kingdom!”

Egg stood stubbornly on the spot.

Father fluffed his wings in thought before leaning close to Mother. “Mother, shall we allow him to become the King of his own garden?” he whispered discreetly.

Mother’s eyes were filled with apprehension, but what could she do? She did not posses the use of opposable thumbs, she could not possibly push egg back up the hill to the nest. Egg’s future was already made. “I don’t think we have a choice!” she murmured in a harsh, shaky tone.

Father looked back to Egg. “Then the Kingdom of Garden is yours, Egg.”

Egg remained silent and proud.

“King of the Garden,” father whispered to himself. “I’m so proud.”

Mother and Father left Egg to fend for himself, walking back up the hill where they were greeted with a cold, empty nest.

Bread Crumbs: If Only Hansel Had Listened to Gretel, Vol. 3

19 May

© Copyright Abra Ebner

In the woods, father led us in a direction we’d never been in before. We weaved over broken land and fern filled valleys where trails did not exist. When we’d walked for close to two hours he set us to work gathering kindling while he walked a ways back with his axe in hand. “I will be cutting over here.”

I waited until Father disappeared, not able to concentrate on the task I had been given. I heard his axe—Chop. Chop. Chop—the sound cooling my nerves.

He hadn’t left us.

 Hansel set to work, collecting a large pile of kindling, but as night fell, Father’s chopping never ceased.

 “Hansel, something’s wrong,” I at last announced, hearing a wolf’s cry not too far off.

Hansel stopped. His pile of kindling was so big I wondered how he proposed he’d ever get it home. This hadn’t made sense from the beginning, and it angered me that Hansel hadn’t questioned Father as I’d longed to. Why would Father take us two hours from home to collect wood when we could barely haul that wood two hours back? The mule had been sold, and the cart long since rotted.

“Nothing is wrong, Gretel. Keep collecting,” Hansel urged.

Something was definitely wrong, and I refused to let it slide. “No, Hansel. I think we should check on Father.” Dread lingered in the pit of my stomach like the the pebbled that led our way home. I would not quit until Hansel would listen.

Hansel sighed. “Fine.”

He huffed past me, taking big steps in the direction of our father’s axe.

Chop. Chop. Chop.

It was just as steady as it had been all day.

When we came upon the source of the sound I was horrified to see that Father’s axe had been tied to a branch with a yard of rope, the wind knocking it against the trunk until the tree had almost chopped right down.

“Hansel! It was a trick!” I admitted, seeing the obvious.

Hansel’s face crinkled. “No. No. No, Gretel. You’re wrong. Father likely grew tired and tied his axe here until tomorrow. He probably saw us working hard and didn’t want to interrupt, figuring we’d find our way home when we grew hungry.”

My stomach grumbled, but it did not shadow my doubt. Why couldn’t he see it? I rolled my eyes. “I don’t believe you. You’re being naïve,” I claimed, but Hansel had already made his way to the pebble trail and did not hear my objection.

I followed, wondering what his next excuse would be, and what the look on my Step Mother’s face would be like when we showed up—alive.

“Let’s hurry before it gets to dark,” Hansel added.

“We’re going to die,” I mumbled.

Once home, I saw Step Mother and Father through the window of the cottage, already eating dinner.

“They’ve started without us!” Hansel grumbled.

“I doubt they even expected us,” I added.

Hansel gave me a mean glare before opening the front door and we bounded in. Step Mother’s face told no lies. She was horrified. My father on the other hand looked far too relieved, but still, Hansel did not see it!

Step mother rose from her chair and ordered us to bed with no dinner, claiming we deserved none because we hadn’t hauled the wood home.

Yeah, right.

 

© Abra Ebner

Paco Gets a Haircut…

18 May

Two years I’ve been growing this Purple Clover, and Paco finally gave up.

He turned to me and said, “Seriously, the cats keep eating me and my leaves are so big I can no longer hold them up! I think it’s in our best interest to cut my hair and save the cats their digestive discomfort.”

I touched my finger to my chinny chin chin and thought for a moment. “But, Paco, what if your hair doesn’t grow back? You came from my grandmother who brought you all the way from Switzerland. You’re not an average clover, you’re Swiss!”

Paco laughed, his accent really coming out now. “Aft! I am strong! I survived a ten hour flight and a few hour layover in Heathrow, in coach none-the-less! If I can survive that, I can survive the haircut!”

I took out the sharpest sheers I owned, my lips pressed together as I gazed upon the blades. “I promise to cut fast.”

He shook his withering petals. “Danke gleichfalls.”

I held my breath and cut fast, taking his extra hair and saving it in a vase.

Over the next few days I kept a watchful eye on Paco – he had been silent. Day and night I brought him water, day and night I whispered sweet nothings upon the severed stems, until finally, a single petal emerged and Paco whispered to me…

“I feel much better now…”

If Only Hansel Had Listened To Gretel: Bread Crumbs Vol. 2

14 May

I looked at Hansel, nervously crumbling the bread between my fingers. “Are we going to die?”

Hansel gave me a half grin. “No, Gretel. We’re not going to die.”

I ventured my gaze into the looming forest, a set of hungry eyes staring back at me. I wanted to believe my brother, but I couldn’t. We were definitely going to die, but I didn’t need to tell him that. He may be my older brother, but I was the brains here, not to mention the only rational one of the duo. I dropped the doughy ball of bread on the ground, looking over my shoulder as I saw a fox run across the path, snatching the pieces up behind us – this was pointless, but Hansel refused to listen.

“Um… Hansel?” My voice was shaky as I tried again to tell him.

He hadn’t heard me, stopping abruptly. “Look!” He yelled.

His finger was pointed before him, his eyes so wide that I thought for a moment he’d seen our death, if not for the grin decorating his cheeks. I followed the angle of his thin finger, seeing a clearing up ahead. It was dark, and in the middle sat an oddly shaped gingerbread house.

“We’re saved!” he yelled.

I pressed my lips together, thinking that this didn’t look like ‘saved’ to me. There was a waterfall of blood, the stench of burning flesh in the air, but all Hansel could see was the candy canes and sugar – a perfectly set trap.

“I don’t know, Hansel…”

Again, Hansel hadn’t heard me as he took off at a run, the lust for food fogging his already damaged judgement. If only we had eaten the bread, then we wouldn’t be in this predicament.

I sighed. We were definitely going to die now…

Well, my bread baking experience yesterday turned out perfectly. If I were that fox, I wouldn’t have hesitated for this bread! My first successful home-made loaf!!

Bread Crumbs… I’ll keep them for myself.

yum.