The Longest Night

Her heart burst.  Whether it burst into fire or into a thousand pieces of broken glass, she couldn't be sure.  Either way, she knew it would consume her, and she knew she was different.  She had changed.

She looked at the clock.  The bright green numbers read 12:27am.  Only seconds had passed since her tears had stopped, but it felt like an eternity.  She closed her eyes for one more try.

The Doorway

She knew he'd come.  He said he'd be there at 5, and she trusted him completely.  And sure enough, she could see through the window that he was walking down the street.  She looked at the clock.  4:58.  Two minutes early.  His suit was dark, his shirt pressed.  His sunglasses exuded cool.  The bouquet of pink peonies in his hand and the paper bag filled with groceries in the other told her he came prepared.  She saw him turn onto the steps.

She didn't wait for the doorbell, but met him at the door, a smile on her face.

The sunglasses couldn't hide the shyness about his demeanor.  "I hope I remembered everything," he said in a breathless whisper.  "I couldn't decide between lilies or roses or daffodils, so I went with what the saleslady suggested.  I think she could tell I was nervous.  And I could only find French bread instead of garlic bread.  And they didn't have any ice.  I couldn't remember if you had ice."  His words tumbled out of his mouth. He looked helpless.

"We have ice.  French bread will work perfectly.  The flowers are beautiful.  Mom will love them.  And I have the perfect vase for them too.  Come on.  Let's get started."  She pulled him by the hand into the kitchen, where he could see she'd already gotten started.  A pot on the stove smelled delicious.  He couldn't remember what was supposed to be in it, but whatever it was, he wanted some.  She seemed so calm and collected.  He wondered how it was possible that someone could be calm on a night like this.

"Mom said she'd be home at 7, so we should have plenty of time to get everything ready.  And I know she doesn't suspect a thing.  She's been so preoccupied with that Marshall project down on 5th and Amherst that that's all she can think about.  Oh, she thinks about you, too, of course, but I really think tonight will be the perfect surprise."  She looked back to find him still standing in the doorway.  Wow, she thought.  He must really love her.  She smiled and went back to work.

Jack and the Mean-Stalk

Jack looked out his bedroom window. He could barely distinguish one shape from the next in the moon-less night, but he thought he saw the beanstalk off in the distance by the well. From the sounds of it, it was growing fast and big, but he couldn't be sure. Dare he wait till the morning light, or should he light a candle and go check it out?

His curiosity got the better of him. He felt around on his nightstand by his bed for a box of matches and his candle-holder. After lighting the candle, he found his pants and pulled them on. He didn't bother with shoes or a shirt. Maybe he should have.

The door opened quietly, and he tip-toed through the house and out the back-door. The grass was cold and crisp underfoot, but he barely noticed. Nor did he notice the cold on his bare shoulders, arms, chest and back. He was too busy staring.

The beanstalk was already taller than he was, which, at 6' was saying something. It was bigger around than the well a few feet away, and it was still going. Jack was amazed to hear it growing, above all else. He didn't realize his jaw had dropped open. Well, he didn't realize it at first. When the beanstalk shouted, "Hey, do you mind not staring?" he shut his mouth right away, but then he was too shocked to hear a beanstalk shouting at him that he was rooted to the spot, and all he could do was stare. That was when the beanstalk really got angry.

Jack felt the earth beneath him move; the next thing he knew, he was flying through the air, landing with a thud. The beanstalk's root had come out of the ground and was coming after him again. Jack scrambled to his feet, only to be told, "Hey, Shirtless, maybe you should get dressed before you come gawking!"

That was it. Jack wasn't gonna take that anymore! "Hey Stalky, why don't you pick on someone your own size?" He turned and ran back to his house. First thing in the morning, he was taking an axe to that beanstalk and pretending he hadn't dreamed of climbing it to the clouds.

The Dog-Walker

"Mommy! Two dogs!" said the younger boy excitedly.

"Where?" asked his older brother. "I don't see any dogs."

"They're over there. A man with a leash was walking them," answered the boys' mom.

"You mean the dogs were walking the man?" asked the older boy. "If you are wearing a leash then someone is walking you."

"That's right, that's what I meant to say," answered his mom. "Though I do wonder why the dogs weren't holding on better to the leash. That man could easily get away, run across the street, get into the neighbors' yards and just cause all sorts of havoc. I don't even think he was wearing a license on his collar."

The Printed Page

"What are you doing?!?" she shrieked as she surveyed the damage.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm tearing up all the books I own!" he yelled back, tearing yet another section of Shakespeare and tossing the shreds onto the floor.

"But why? Why on earth are you doing this?" She thought she knew, and tears began welling up in her eyes.

"To erase any memory I have of you, that's why. You don't want to have anything to do with me anymore? Well I don't want to have anything to do with you! I'm starting over, but not before everything that reminds me of you is destroyed. I can't afford to buy a new house or new clothes or new car; those will have to stay. But I don't need these books. Too many memories. Just looking at them makes me ... What do you care, anyway?"

"It didn't have to be like this, John." She turned and walked away, leaving him with pages in his hand and a question in his heart.