Day 7, Take 2

My birthday came at the beginning of my busiest week in a long time, so that would be why I didn't get a lot of writing done. I went back into the archives for today's post. It's a poem from several years ago.

Love

A warm hug.

A soft kiss.

A whispered secret.

A shared future.

A young child.

A cherished pet.

A valued friend.

A storied past.

A welcoming home.

A familiar place.

A favorite food.

A stuffed bear.

This is love.

Day 2, Take 2

Mr. Viikatemies Pays A Visit

"Where is that sonofabitch?!"

Cliff looked up from his desk, cluttered as it usually was, and up at the clock on the wall. His employees knew they shouldn't be late to meetings with him. Tardiness was something that tended to make him cranky.

His assistant, Jaclyn, having heard him shout, stuck her head in the door.

"Clifford," she said, in that proper British accent of hers, "you know what the doctor said about getting excited."

Cliff smirked at that. He thought Jaclyn had only called him that because she knew she was the only person in the company that could get away with it. If anyone else had done it, he'd have fired them on the spot.

"Yes, mother," he said, feigning an accent of his own.

Cliff Pollard built Pollard, Inc. from the ground up. He started this pharmaceutical company in his garage some thirty years ago and it now had gross profits in the tens of millions every month. His office, on the top floor of the company's headquarters on a sprawling campus in the Chicago suburbs, was not as ornate as you might think. The walls were lined with oak paneling and the desk was large to be sure, but the floor was covered in carpeting that was almost as old as Cliff was. He made sure it was well taken care of.

Cliff was a rotund man with thinning grey hair and light brown eyes. He had on his favorite grey suit with a white dress shirt and a pink paisley tie Jaclyn had bought him for Christmas last year.

A few more minutes ticked by much too slowly for Cliff's liking and he took to fiddling with a pencil and tapping it on his desk out of boredom.

Jaclyn stuck her head around the door again and said, "Clifford, there is a Mr. Viikatemies here to see you." She looked back over her shoulder and said, "Did I pronounce that correctly?"

Without waiting for an answer from Cliff or Jaclyn, a tall, slender man with pale blonde hair, blue eyes and sharp facial features walked into the office. He had a thin smile on his face and said to Jaclyn, "Like a native of Helsinki, my dear. Thank you."

Jaclyn blushed a bit and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Cliff took a longer look at the man before him. Mr. Viikatemies was dressed in a black suit with white pinstripes, a black shirt and black tie. His shoes were black patent leather, clean enough you could get a good reflection in them.

Cliff smiled a bit, hoping he didn't look as nervous as he felt. "Please, sir, have a seat."

Mr. Viikatemies sat down in the chair facing Cliff's desk and crossed his legs in front of him, his hands in his lap. He said, "I think you know why I'm here."

Cliff's eyebrows lifted a bit at that. "It's really that time already?" he asked.

Mr. Viikatemies simply nodded.

"I was hoping I'd have more time," Cliff whispered.

"That's what they all say."

"Can't we make other arrangements?"

"You should have thought about that a long time ago."

Cliff looked down at his desk and sighed softly. "Is there anything I can say to change your mind?"

Mr. Viikatemies smirked a bit at that. "No, there really isn't. That's not how these things work."

"Not even stock options? We make huge profits on a regular basis..."

"No."

"There has to be a way to..." Cliff stopped in mid-sentence and his head dropped to the desk.

Mr. Viikatemies stood up, quietly muttering, "They always try to bargain." He waved his hand toward the door and then vanished.

Jaclyn opened the door and looked toward the desk. "Clifford?!" She ran to her boss's side, but it was too late. Cliff had suffered a massive heart attack and was dead by the time his head hit the desk.

Jaclyn let out a soft sigh and said, "Clifford, what did the doctor tell you?"

The End

Day 1, Take 2.

Thought I'd try this again. After all, I'm turning 45 today and I might as well do a little something. I'm going to try writing every day, but I may stock up on things and publish them when the mood hasn't struck on a particular day.

Today, though, I'm going to rewrite a short story I wrote a long time ago. It's a little fairy tale and I hope you like it. Come to think of it, I hope I do too.

The Princess

There was once a young princess who lived in the biggest castle in all the land with her father, the king. She was regarded by all who had seen her as the most beautiful girl in the entire kingdom. She had long, curly hair with eyes so blue that if you fell into them you would surely drown. Her dresses were made with the finest silks money could buy. She only used the most expensive ribbons to tie up her hair.

However, with all that she had, there was a large problem. The princess, you see, was lonely. Surely, a princess as lovely as this had many suitors, as this one did, but none of them could satisfy her. It wasn't that they were not handsome, as they all were, but still satisfied she was not.

Each of them tried to win her heart by complimenting her beauty, but this bored her as they were all saying the same things, over and over.

Then they tried bringing her large bouquets of flowers, which she simply planted in the royal garden, already the largest in the land.

Next, they each tried writing her poems. Surely, the words were different, but they all said the same thing.

Then, one day, a stranger appeared in the city. He was from a far off land no one had ever heard of before. He bought a single red rose and walked toward the castle. Outside, many of the princess's suitors were wandering around with long faces.

The stranger asked, "What is wrong, my good fellows?"

One of them said, "We've all tried winning the princess's heart, but we've all failed."

Then one of the other men noticed the rose the stranger was holding. "Look," he said, "this fool thinks he can win the princess's heart with one rose," and started to laugh. The others turned and looked at the stranger and then they started laughing too.

Then another man said, "He's also not as handsome as we are." It was true. He was dressed just as nicely as they were, but his face was plain. He wasn't ugly, but his face was just not remarkable in any way.

Even in the face of this derision, the stranger was undeterred, and even smiled a bit as he turned to walk to the castle gate.

Once he was inside, the stranger was led to the princess's room. As he introduced himself, he gently took her hand in his and brought it to his lips and softly kissed her.

He told her the news of her beauty had not been exaggerated when it had reached him in his faraway land. Then, he did something not one of her suitors had ever done before. He told her a joke.

She laughed. It was a gloriously beautiful laugh and it echoed throughout the castle. The king, not having heard his daughter laugh like this before, ran to her room.

When he arrived, the princess and her prince were locked in a tight embrace, kissing each other deeply. The king, not believing what he was seeing, asked his daughter if she was all right.

The princess said she had never been better and she had found the man she wanted to marry.

And they did marry and lived happily ever after.

The End