Tag: Yes


Word: Yes, moustache
Word Count: 483

By Beverly Jones Christopher sat at the breakfast table watching the creature he discovered in the creek after the creature fell off the bridge into the shallow water. It sat crouched by the window looking down the bank toward the creek.
Its mahogany skin had lost its luster over the last few days. The shiny silver hair lay lank down its back. The large dark eyes, fringed all around with black eyelashes, filled with crystal tears reflecting all the hues of the rainbow and then some colors we have no words for.
“Hungry?” asked Christopher. “We have fresh vegetables for breakfast.”
The creature shook its head.
“Do you feel ok?”
It looked at Christopher. Tears spilled over its lashes and ran down its cheeks, sparkling and flashing in the yellow morning light.
“Are you sad?” It tilted its head.
Christopher thought about the times he wasn’t hungry and felt sad. “Are you homesick? Do you miss your family?” The creature tilted its head.
“Mother,” Christopher called toward the other room where she was tidying up. “I think Frank is really unhappy. What can we do?”
Mother came in and knelt in front of the creature. She looked at Christopher. “How do you know it is a boy.”
“I don’t. But I like the name Frank.”
Mother put her hand out and Frank leaned its face into her palm.
“Chris, have you been back to the creek since the morning you found the creature?”
“No, ma’am. You scolded me about going down there alone.”
Mother hid a small smile behind her hand. “I think tomorrow at daybreak we need to go back. Will you wake me up?”
Christopher puffed up his chest at the responsibility.
The three of them left the house in the fading grayness before dawn. Mother handed the creature the small leather bag full of fresh picked lettuce, carrots and tomatoes. It stood by the creek as Mother and Christopher sat higher on the bank.
Just as the sun peeked over the willow tree tops, a figure stepped out of the shadows beside the mossy stone bridge. The creature Christopher found was a lot smaller than he. This one was only slightly bigger but definitely older. Its mahogany skin was darker. The silver hair was the same color but cascaded down its back nearly to its knees. On its face was an emerald green Foo Man Choo mustache that fell nearly to its waist.
The smaller creature threw itself into the open arms of the elder who looked at Mother with a hint of a grin under the greenness. It tilted its head. Mother returned the gesture as they faded back into the shadows.
Christopher tugged on her hand, looking toward the bridge. “Frank’s just a little kid like me, isn’t he?”
Mother leaned down and hugged him. She smiled gently at him as she tilted her head. “Yes, Christopher, I think Frank is.”

YES: Adventures in the Snow White By Nan Ressue

Word: YES
Word Count 500+
Adventures in the Snow White
Nan Ressue

“Since we lived in the country at the top of a steep hill, I immediately began to worry about getting to the hospital in time to deliver my fifth baby due in January. When the first snowflakes began to fall, the frequency and intensity of my worry sessions increased dramatically. Confessing these concerns to a friend who was also our rural highway commissioner, I heard the most comforting words he could have chosen:
“Don’t worry about the weather,” he said smiling. “I’ll take you to the hospital in the town snowplow”. There are advantages in living in the country.
It was a clear night and 20 below zero when it was time to go. I thought my husband was calm and collected, driving me at a leisurely pace. Little did I know that he had his foot to the floor.
The delivery was successful, the allotted number of rest days passed and we were on our way home, still at minus 20 degrees.
Trying to be nonchalant, the father finally confided, “Oh by the way, the drain is frozen and you won’t be able to wash any clothes.”
“Hmmm, laundry.”, I murmured to myself. “Seven people’s clothes including a newborn. This will be interesting”.
Five days went by and the laundry mountain was impressive. Even the bedroom hamper fell forward on its face from overload.
“Please don’t go to the laundromat until the baby is asleep”, asked the nervous father.
So, at 9:45pm and still at 20 below, I filled the station wagon until it was bulging and drove 5 miles to the Snow White Laundry which I had all to myself, a rather rickety 150 year old commercial building refitted for the local laundry and boasting fifteen washing machines. After many trips, I had all the clothes loaded into every machine in the place. I then efficiently went around and fed each a quarter. I circled once more pushing the start button on them all .Feeling rather smug, I sat down for a few minutes of peace. I soon settled into the story, only vaguely aware of the machines changing gears as the wash cycle finished. With a sudden shock of insight, I realized that all those washers would also spin at the same time. Oh No! Not once, but twice. The washers slowly took off until they were at full roar, like the 747 hurtling down the runway to achieve air speed, walls and floor shaking and me wondering if the washers would all end up in the cellar.”
Let’s see…What would be an excuse that would be acceptable?”, I thought in panic. Those were the longest spin cycles I ever endured.
After a half dozen trips to the station wagon, I had all the clean clothes loaded in and it was time to head for home—or try to head for home.
“Something’s wrong with the car,” I said to myself through gritted teeth. You guessed it..a flat tire. Fortunately, in that day before cell phones, there was a telephone booth on the corner to call home. With the eldest daughter in charge of the baby, the father came to save me. While I waited, I watched the drunks gradually exiting the bar just across the street who were were friendly, issued invitations, and made suggestions. The tire was changed and the parents wound their weary way home.
And what do you know… The drain thawed the next day. “YES!”

YES: Yes By B.A. Sarvey

Word: YES
Word Count 500
B.A. Sarvey
Her silver locks fell softly, partially obscuring her face. No longer sheltered by her loden green hood, she ought to feel vulnerable. Yet the boy’s presence gentled her.
“Guff,” he said, by way of introduction. “Will you come?”
“Yes,” she replied, accepting his offered hand. “Luna.”
Pulling her to her feet, he looked directly into her pale green eyes. “Like the cave crystals,” he marveled.
Unblinking, Luna said, “And yours? Hues of the tamarack.”
Guff guided her through the gathered groups. Snatches of folk songs and laughter rose on acrid campfire smoke. Bitter-sweet ale sloshed in stoneware mugs, languid voices engaged in good-natured debate. Two owls conversed wh-hoo-hoo-hoooo. Amidst it all, they walked, unnoticed. World with-in world. Converged yet apart. At the water’s edge, he halted. Still holding her hand, he swept his arm up and out, a fluid motion encompassing the river, the entire settlement. “This is why I was told to watch for you.”
“And what are you?”
A smile crinkled his face. “A messenger, my…fay.”
“No fairy am I,” Luna parried. Her laughter glittered—moonlight on water. “Only a traveler.”
As she spoke, however, a tingling like near-by lightning jolted her. She gripped Guff’s hand. Hard. Settlement sounds faded. Dark shapes, beings who appeared only to her, gestured menacingly, reflected in blood-red waters. Silent screams pierced her calm.
A woodland dweller, she was no stranger to the violence of existence—the daily battle of hunter and prey, the will to survive determining whether wolf or deer would win the day. But this vision was of something different. These dark beings sought to subjugate the gentle folk, or annihilate all, senselessly.
Was Guff the vision maker, or only a tool wielded by another? Luna focused herself, eyes closed, mind alert. Something luminous like sunshine radiated through the deep dusk, informing her. A vanishing spell would not work—the dark beings might insinuate themselves, believing the village vacant. A repellent was needed.
Any of her kind knew these spells. Why was she chosen? Well, no matter. She was here. She must act.
“Guff! Quickly! We must protect them.”
“You’ve seen something,” he stated. “Tell me what to do.”
“Meadow rue and honeysuckle from the fields. Gather three bushels of each. Strew it around the settlement bounds. Ashes form three fires. Hair from three hounds. Mixed and scattered.” Luna released Guff’s hand, motioned him to go.
“Not too late?” Guff queried.
“They are near, but….”
Grabbing his blade, Guff ran for the meadow. Luna gathered hair and ashes, a bowl to blend them in, words to call up the wind. Guff returned, breathless but beaming, plants cut and strewn.
“All we need is a dusting of translucence.” Luna watched the sky, listening, head tilted. Suddenly, whoosh. Her silvery curls danced, reflecting moonbeams. “Perfect,” as though she expected him.
The newcomer landed lightly, shifted his feet—left, right, left—cleared his throat. “H…howard,” he stammered, translucent wings fluttering. “I am Howard.”
Guff gaped.
Luna clapped. “An auspicious arrival!”

YES: Say Yes By Clare Robertson

Word: YES
Word Count 56

Say Yes
By Clare Robertson

“Did she just get taken by Death?” Magnus asked.
“Can we save her?”
“Yes, but it cannot be a forever child.”
“Can I save her?”
“Can we come?” Minaya asked.
“Yes.” Magnus realized something. “Are we saying yes too much?” he asked.
The others all turned to him and said in perfect unison, “YES!”

YES: Yes By Miriam Rose Mancuso

Word: YES
Word Count 252
By Miriam Rose Mancuso

It has been almost a day and a half since I saw Joe, and I’m so ready to start up a conversation. I love all sorts of British bands so I’m so ready to relate to him. I usually don’t dress up but I decided to put on the only dress I have, a long, orange floral dress that I haven’t wore since Easter of last year.
I took a quick look in my front camera to see if anything is in my teeth, coming out of my nose, or drooping from my eyes. Ok, I just look as ugly as I usually do. Hopefully he will notice my dress, call me beautiful, ask me out, and marry me in a beautiful Italian church. Sigh! What is my opener gonna be? “Hi”? “Hello”? “Hey, how are you?” or possibly “Hey, Joe, looking good!” Ugh.
And what’s the first thing to start talking about? How British music is so amazing? How about the homework we had last night? Oh, or about where he got the cute shirt he’s probably wearing? Sigh! The bell rang and I had to get out of the middle of the hallway. I click-clacked in my cute Chanel heels and quickly peered into my classroom to see if he was there. Oh God he was! He was wearing a soft blue Abercrombie tee and faded blue jeans. I’m not even gonna mention the brown leather jacked. Sigh!
He looks so cute thayt I’m speechless. “What am I gonna say?!”

YES: When Yes Means No (The Tale of Willow Skye Cont’d) By Sharon Collins

Word: Yes

Word Count: 499


When Yes Means No

(The Tale of Willow Skye Cont’d)

By Sharon Collins


Willow Skye was just a babe wrapped in a shimmery shawl, when the Gate Keeper found her asleep in a basket floatin’ in the shallows under Dame Willow.  When he fished her out, she woke up and showed her willow-eye and her sky-eye for the first time. Anyway, that’s how the Gate Keeper tells the tale.  But tale or no, her left eye is the silver-green of a summer willow and her right eye is the blue of a bright summer sky; hence her name Willow Skye, the Mathair’s Summer Gift-Giving, Gift.


Everyone wondered, but no one knew who she was or where she come from, and although everyone suggested it, no one offered to take her in.  As I said, Summer Gift-Giving is a thin time of year and bellies are mostly empty. Offering to fill another is just plain foolish.  So the Gate Keeper who had been her finder, became her keeper.  He was already mighty old then,  thrice eleventy.  (Eleventy is twice eleven, so if your cipherin’  is good, you’ll know that on his birthday, which was the, Summer Gift-Giving Festival Day he found Willow Skye,  he turned sixty-six.)   So the day that the Gate Keeper’s eyebrows broke and the trouble-times begun, was Willow Skye’s eleventh birthday and his thrice eleventy,  plus eleven. It was is a mighty important day all around, and now you know how the day started and how Willow Skye came to be charge.


The next piece of our puzzle a body needs to know, in order to trace our troubles back to the beginnin’, is that in addition to Willow Skye’s eerie eyes, strange hair, and uncommon height, is the unsettlin’ fact that she has a geis; she can’t speak.  Well, that’s not entirely true; she can speak, but only, just one word.  That word is, “Yes.”  So most folks, when they meet her for the first time, find her uncommonly accommodatin’ and then quickly uncommonly confusin’.  That’s where I come in; being the Bee Keeper’s Boy don’t keep me all that busy.  So I spend a lot of my time mindin’ other folk’s business, includin’  Willow Skye’s.  So when she says “Yes,” but she really means “No,” I translate.  Us orphans has got to stick together. I should have stuck tighter that day.  The day Willow Skye said, “Yes,” once too many times.

“Can you help me, Willow-Skye?”, “Is this the right path? Willow-Skye”, “Will you carry my basket?”, “Will you watch my child?”, “Is it all right if I  skip tying just this once, Willow-Skye?”  The questions came quicker than cows to the byre at milkin’ time. And of course, Willow Skye keep sayin’, “Yes.”  Soon the riverbank was covered with wicker baskets and muddy toddlers and Dame Willow wasn’t wearin’ many thankful ribbons. I got mighty  worried that things was goin’ crossways, but what with chasin’ the young’uns and rescuin’ baskets, I didn’t have a moment to spare for the ribbons.  Lookin’ back, that was a mistake.


YES: Did You Know…? By Sally Madison

Word: YES

Words: 490

Did You Know…?

By Sally Madison



Millicent was strolling down the lane, enjoying the sunshine warmth, but she felt a cool breeze when not protected by the woods to the right. The fields stretched out to the left, to a beautiful view of the valley.  She had taken off the bolero jacket that matched her long blue skirt with black bric-a-brac trim, exposing her ruffled white silk blouse.  She swung her jacket over her shoulder causally, enjoying the solitude.  Her soft light brown hair was in a relaxed bun on the back of her head.  She had just come from church, on her way back to the college.  Behind her she heard the Packard coming.  She moved over to give the large black convertible girth.  She recognized the driver as a senior student at the school.  His maroon double breasted wool great coat had black velvet covered buttons and matching the velvet collar.  The attached cowl made his shoulders appear massive The black silk top hat and waxed mustache spoke of dignity.  He stopped to make small talk concerning the beautiful weather, the school and the teachers.  He invited her to join him in the back seat, because they didn’t have a porch swing at the school. In the warm air, the luxury of the vehicle, and grand view made the young co-ed relaxed and happy.


After much small talk, he turned to her and casually asked,”Did you know I was a rapist?” The hair on the back of her neck stood up! Her eyebrows raised o show the whites around her irises! Quickly she grabbed the door handle. Her petticoats flounced in the air as she jumped and pushed her way out of the car. Smirking, he leaned back and thought, ’too easy’. Faster than she had ever run in her life she made her way back down the lane, so the car couldn’t follow easily, then zigzagged through the woods.  She dashed through the open space to the school ahead.  Her chest was heaving as she reached the porch. Her arms stretched out and her face pleaded for safety, as she reached the double doors. Her body slammed into the brass metal bars that protected the frosted glass of the heavy oak frames.  The doors gave way only a few inches, when her breath exploded, escaping out of the gut, as she felt his icy fingers through her thin blouse on the small of her back.


Hours later, her limp body shuffled down the dark oak-paneled cavernous hallway, towards the huge glass window at the end of the passage.  Her hair hung limply from the disheveled knot, and her bare feet were unresponsive to the cold white marble.  Her exposed bare buttocks matched the white of her undershirt and torn pantaloons. She walked out the door into the vineyards and paused occasionally to eat a grape.  She spoke.  “Did you know that Prescott was a rapist?” to no-one around.


“Yes,” answered the grapes.

YES: From No to Yes by G. Ackman

Word: YES
Word Count 498

From No to Yes
by G. Ackman

“Do you believe?” the costumed tour guide asked. Phil scoffed and mentally said “absolutely not” but kept silent. This “fun” ghost tour had been his wife’s idea. Ten o’clock at night before they board a cruise ship tomorrow and he would rather be back in the hotel room, munching on peanut butter cups and falling asleep to the History Channel. That was his idea of a vacation. But Belinda looked so happy and that made it worthwhile – almost. Two hours later, Phil was exactly where he had wanted to be earlier, except that now his feet were sore.

The beginning of the cruise went well. It was the night of the second day that changed everything. He woke up in the middle of the night and needed a smoke, so he put on his jeans and headed to the Lido deck smoking area. There were only a handful of smokers there and he nodded pleasantly to a few of them. They became a de facto club on board a cruise ship – the outcasts of Lido deck. Two cigarettes later, he thought maybe he could fall asleep again and headed back to his cabin.

It was foggy, but that was not unusual at sea. He headed down the starboard side of the ship, looking for the door that would take him to the elevator down to the main deck where their cabin was. He knew he had gone too far, but he didn’t remember seeing a door anywhere. The fog was heavier now, settling on his shoulders like a moist cape. He could hear the rhythmic brrrrummmm of the ship’s horn sounding every five minutes. His own visibility was down to less than twenty feet. He did not like this feeling of disorientation. Every noir movie he ever watched flashed through his mind and he half expected to hear clicking heels coming up behind him.

Up ahead a darkness took form. He couldn’t quite make it out, but it was near the rail. Was it a person? No, it must be a winch for the lifeboats. No, it was a person standing at the rail. Great. He could ask where the passage is. He quickened his steps. As he got closer, he could see that it was a woman in a cocktail dress and hat standing on something with both her hands on the rail and peering over the side. Why would she be looking that intently at the dark water nearly 100 feet below? Before the sight even fully registered in his mind, she jumped up on the rail, looked sadly at him, and then fell backwards into the water. He screamed. Suddenly the deck was filled with people. Crew members took over and a search began. Seven hours later, they told him that everyone was accounted for and he must have mistaken what he saw. But he knew – she had been there and she had fallen overboard – years ago.

“Do you believe?” Yes, he most certainly does.