The Goddess Hestia has commanded me in my work.

The garments have once again been rendered pure.

The flotsam and jetsam that ebb from the shores of your beings have been ordered.

The merchants have been visited and only the finest items procured.

All traces of soil have been cleansed from the surfaces upon which you trod.

Sustenance has been prepared until deemed worthy of your palates.

The offspring have been ferried hither and yon and returned to the hearth.

“Alrighty then,” said Charles with wide eyes after a pregnant pause. “So… that was Mom’s day. How was school?”

Author’s Note: Mom’s losing it. So relatable.

Categories: Fiction, Maxine Kollar | 2 Comments »

“I’m supposed to believe that the line between the earth and sky, that line, right there, is not real.”

Yes, I tell him, it’s just an illusion. The earth is round so there is no line.

“So if we get into this boat and go out to it, there’ll be nothing.”

Right, no line. Well, just another line further away because …

“Yeah, Yeah, the curve of the earth.”

We get in the boat. The things I do for my patients.

We speed across the water… to the line.

He lifts the sky, like a shade, and climbs through.

Author’s Note: Because, what are horizons anyway.

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“Remember Romeo and Juliet?” asked the woman.

Yes dear, he said. Star crossed lovers. Very romantic.

“How about Bonnie and Clyde?” she questioned, hands on hips.

Yes dear, crimes and passions.

“Isolde and Tristan! Now, there was a pair”, she said.

Yes dear, hearts and kingdoms torn apart.

“Even flippin’ Punch and Judy had more dramatic endings!” she yelled.

“But no! Please tell me again about our tragic denouement?”

I followed the GPS off a cliff, dear, he droned for the millionth time.

They floated through the wall and into the garden.

It was going to be a long eternity.

Author’s Note: No, really. Sometimes you just need to ask for directions.

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I slam on the brakes. There I am at the school bake sale, standing over my peanut brittle. I get in the car and apologize.

Seven blocks later, yep. Sitting at the coffee shop with my laptop working on the report. “Get in the car!” I yell at myself. “It’s almost dinnertime.”

Across town, at the farmers market, I finally find six perfect apples for the pie. I leap in.

That must be my 90th lap around the park. Enough already!

My husband has gotten used to me going out for a drive before dinner so I can collect myself.

Author’s Note: We live in a fractured world. Lots to do and no time for pulling ourselves together.

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Juan Hoo – A Tax Man opened his office at the edge of town.

He was far from home but he heard folks round here were ripe for the picking.

Arlis never procrastinated. As soon as all his W-2 came in he was at the office.

He asked Juan a few questions about his IRA while Juan just sat there sharpening his claws.

“I’m sorry, I’m no good at that stuff.”

“Then why open a tax office!”

Tax office..no, no. it should read ‘One Who Attacks Man’

“Gotta check the universal translator,” he mumbles, picking Arlis out of his teeth.

Author’s Note: Sometimes the truth just gets lost in translantion.

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Claudette helped Charlie so much with his French lessons.

No, mon chere, not jer tem, its jeu tem

They met at the start of his immersion trip and were inseparable.

No, pomme de terre, not Meem chose, mem shoz

She was so sweet, always correcting his pronunciation.

No petit frois gras, not arretezzz, its arreteyyy

So thoughtful. Only correcting every other word when they were with friends.

So perfect she was. So fluent. But her English was a bit off.

This time he corrected her. “It’s ‘Oh my GOD’, not ‘gawd’ ‘what are you doing with that NIFE’, not ‘nuf.’”

Author’s Note: Because what could be worse than being perfect.

Categories: Fiction, Maxine Kollar | 2 Comments »

He loved feeding off the pain and suffering of others. A sweet dessert. He licked a sharp tongue over glistening teeth.

“I’m so sorry Mrs. Rosen, you and your 4 children have to find somewhere else to live. I can’t give you another rent extension.” He let the tears wash over him slowly then walked away.

Behind him, he could hear the doorbell ring inside the Rosen’s house. Not again. He turned and watched IT hand the widow a package full of money. His soul crashed down.

IT flitted by and smiled. His demon was generous and sweet and taunting.

Author’s Note: I love demons. Why should they all be mean?

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The door closed. Pixie Lou went all over the house spreading the dust. Flowers bloomed here, rainbows appeared there.

Watching his friends dance, sing and slide down the bannisters made him squeal with delight. Oh, what fun!

“Why is it getting dark?” Pixie Lou wondered. “It’s the middle of the day and there are cloudless skies.”

The workers finished the last seal on the tent and started hooking up the chemical pump. The boss walked over spitting purple glitter and brushing petals from his hair.

“Make sure you give it the maximum dose, Sam. That house is lousy with pixies.”

Author’s Note: I hate dusting so Pixies really tick me off.

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I hate waking up in the morning. I never know where I’ll be.

Yesterday I had to get out of the inside of a tree. Not on the branches, inside the trunk. Weird.

Luckily there was a knot hole so I could raise my wand and get out.

This morning I wake up in another tree. This time a nest, inside an egg. I had to chip my way out.

I have to stop drinking but the nectars are so sweet.

The mother bird looks at me distastefully and mumbles ‘fairy scum’ as I straighten my wings and fly off.

Author’s Note: Magical doesn’t mean immune from vices.

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