The cloth sweeps against the floor,
Long ago embroidered with care, fit
For many people to admire while they ate.
Now white is red by drink and brown from gravy,
Grease-stained from spills and careless children. [5]
The plates are crooked on the edge,
Crumbs tumbling on the chairs, 
Which knock each other, knock the table, 
For those who sat in them, having devoured,
Abandon the mess and repose in other places. [10]
Once this barren table sparkled with wineglasses
Under the lamps overhead, electric and piercing.

Thanksgiving was always my favourite time of year. It meant that my family would take the long drive north to my dad’s parent’s farm, where we would spend the weekend visiting with relatives and enjoying grandma’s delicious home cooked food. My grandparent’s farm was situated on a gravel road in the midst of rolling fields of wheat and canola that stretched out as far as you could see. Just down the road to the right of them, was my uncle’s farm, and to the left, another uncle.

Thanksgiving with Darth Vadar

If Darth Vadar lived after converting to good.

(Scene shows Laia in the kitchen, pureeing some kind of exoitic pheasant. Hon Solo is making drinks on the other side of the kitchen, and C3PO is setting the table. R2D2 is shown cleaning up something that spilled. Wicket is playing a card game with Chewbaca at a seperate table.)

Laia: Father better come after all this (indicates to all the pureed food on the counter top)

Hon Solo: He'll come.

Chewbaca: ARRRGGG!

 It was a dark and stormy night: the perfect night for a murder.

“What’s your girl like, then?”
“Eh? Wot?”
“That letter you’re writin’. Go on, tell us what she’s like.”
“Aw, my lady, she’s smashin’. Mad, too.”
“Mad? How mad? Does she throw pans and ‘oller?”
“Nah, mad about flowers. An’ clothes. An’ flowers on clothes. She paints roses on ‘er stockin’s and ties wreaths in her cloudy red ‘air…”
“An’ by cloudy, you mean…”
“Sticks out in waves every which way. Ain’t ever lied flat, s’far’s I can remember. Gives kisses of its own, it does.”
“Sounds… strikin’.”

Chapter 14

Nordic Malushomo sat on his horse, waiting.

And a bird that had apparently flown too close to the sun rudely interrupted his waiting.

As Alegis arrived on the scene, Nordic was swatting wildly at the fireball of a canary.

So he put him out of his misery.

Not dead mind you, but out cold.

Shortly after these proceedings there arrived Sora and Nomen, panting hard.

Miches stepped back. he was finally finished.

The statue stood tall; Black granite against a golden sky.

Miches surveyed his handiwork. he felt the wings, the curved beak and the long talons.

"This is a smarter Guardian" Miches thought. "i shall set him to the ultimate Pass."

The statues were made for a purpose; A Pass.

The Gargoyle would sit on the roofs and wait. His Pass was to unleash a deluge of water on any intruder.

The Dragon was made for a gatehouse. His Pass would guard the gates of cities and castles, with fire if need be.

the daylight hours i must confess

are not always filled with happiness

open up a jar of dreams to chase away the stress

the nighttime serves to make you think

an atmosphere in which you sink

all thoughts and dreams are put in jars for thirsty minds to drink

creativity it seems is not to be found only in dreams

the facets of our daily lives are bursting at the seams

how this works inside a jar is a mysterious theme

as i look up into the sky it turns into a sea

 Here at last are the final chapters of Kreen Aktin, the thrilling tale of pirate skulduggery, treachery, greed, and hilarity. The eleventh chapter opens with Kreen Aktin fighting British soldiers aboard an English ship...

Please Enjoy!

Chapter 11