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Principal Adams paused outside a classroom a sthe last of the students straggled their way to the busses. She knocked on the semi-closed door before entering. John was in front of his desk, half sitting, half leaning on it. His arms were crossed. A student was sitting at a desk in the front row.
"Mr. Wilenska, here's the books you ordered for your class."
She placed the small box on a student desk. She turned to the student.
"Sarah, I missed you earlier. This came in the mail for you. You really should have these things sent to you homr." Mrs. Adams handed over the not-so-thin envelop.
Sarah White looked puzzled but took the envelope and opened it. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground. She paused a s she read the top page.
"My poem won a contest," she said, her brow furrowed. "But I didn't enter any contest. It's my poem, but I didn't send it anywhere." Sarah picked up the paper that fell and looked even more puzzled. She turned it toward the Principal who saw it was a check for fifty dollars. They both turned toward John.
"Don't look at me," he said, taking the letter. He looked at it. "This poem was on the bulletin board. Anyone could have sent it in." His face was pink.
Sarah was smiling now.
"Well whoever sent it in saw how good it was. I really liked it. Congtatulations, Sarah. Now I have paperwork that's not doing itself." She looked at John and walked out the door, closing it part way. Instead of walking away, she paused outside the door, listening.
"Thank you, Mr. Wilenska."
"I told you I don't know who sent the poem in."
Not that. For not telling anyone about my mom. I didn't want people feeling sorry for me."
"How is your mom doing now?"
"She did get to come home for Christmas after all. She's still bald but she's not so thin anymore now that she's done with that Chemo junk."
"What have I told you all along? If a wimp like Mr. Wilenska..."
"...can survive Chemo, so can your mom," they finished in unison.
"I'm glad you got better so you could come here."
"Me, too, Sarah. Me, too." John said softly.
"Now," he said louder. "I bet your mom would love to see that letter. You better catch your bus."
Fantasy
I walk in halls where ancient battles waged
Moss on tumbled stone; walls opened to the sky
My feet rest on solid flag
No echoes in the pinnacles of a foe enraged
No raven above the battlefield to spy
No clank of sword, nor fallen hero stay
No standards fly before a marching host
No cry of victory at the end of a weary day
No fireside ballad of battles lost
The wind whistles through branches bare
A startled swallow takes flight
The sun sets in a dazzling array
Do I dare?
And though I wish with all my might
I walk away
Unnamed
In the sacred grove he stood
Carried there by his own feat
The killing stone lay cold and bare
Glistening with damp and dew
The waxing moon shown dim
Through branches new with leaf
No breeze to stir
No rustle to cleave the night
The black robed priests stood round the space
Made bare of green and blade
The fresh turned earth of mildew stank
Yet he did not hesitate
Naked of clothe
Richly dressed in courage
He advanced to the foot of the stone
And there he turned to face his fate
Reaching to the sky he cried
In rage and defiance
A battle cry he sounded
A loudful prayer to his foreign gods
Searing light in answer to his plea
A sword of flame to his hand
The chanting priests stood fast
As the warrior stalked his foe
Two guards came forward
Witness to the sacrifice
The priests intoned their deadly spells
As the circled with weapons raised
Fear did not belong to him
A lust for his captors' blood
Watchers fell victim to his wrath
The gods' thirst was slaked
The priest fell silent as the moon extinguished
The sword of flame the only light
As they slunk into the shadows
He began his journey home
Summer
Hot and steamy
Day and night
Ice cream melting in the sun
Bicycles
Beaches and waves
Friends and family
Picnics
Ants
Mosquitoes
Fresh cut grass
Children dancing in rainbows
About the Author
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I hope you enjoyed this ebook. As much as I enjoy writing it means so much more to know that my readers take pleasure in it as well. Please leave a review at your favorite retailer.
Thank you
KS Henning
Books by KS Henning
The Garden & Other Stories
Corvis: Book One
A Corvis Christmas
Coming this Spring! After Night: Corvis Book Two