Today’s prompt is “hope” and I’d hoped to come up with something creative for such a good word, but I just ended up stuck with a couple of earworms instead. The songs wouldn’t leave my head, so I’m going to share these two inspirational songs (each with the same title) with you instead. If you end up with an earworm from them, I’m sorry. But it’s my hope you’ll find them inspiring.
First up is “High Hopes” from Panic! At The Disco, from the album “Pray For The Wicked”:
And second is the classic “High Hopes” by Frank Sinatra, from the movie “A Hole in the Head”:
This short musical post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “hope”:
“And then I saw it,” said Mickey, his golden eyes wide as saucers and his tail swishing back and forth. “The biggest ball of yarn you’ve ever seen!”
Lily and Pepper leaned forward eagerly, their ears perked. “Wow!” exclaimed Lily. “What did you do, Grampa?”
“I didn’t know what to make of it at first,” Mickey continued. “I’d never seen a ball of yarn that big before. I crept up on it cautiously, not sure what to expect from it. But it just sat there, unmoving, as if tempting me to do attack it.”
Lily and Pepper nodded excitedly. “And then what Grampa?” asked Pepper anxiously.
“I crept closer and closer, inching my way to the ball of yarn, waiting for it to do something, but it didn’t. Finally, I gave into the temptation and pounced on it! We went rolling around the floor as I kicked it and clawed at it, an occasional growl or yowl escaping from my throat. But my enemy wasn’t as weak and cowardly as I’d thought. The ball of yarn fought back! As we battled across the floor, I found myself becoming entangled in its strands. Then, before I knew what had happened, I’d become encased in it, only my head being free!”
Lily and Pepper gasped. “Oh, no!” they cried. “How did you get free?”
Just then the kittens’ mother came into the room and walked up to them. Misty eyed Mickey and sighed. “Telling them one of your old yarns again, Dad?” She shook her head and faced the kittens. “Come along, you two. It’s time for bed.”
“Aww,” they said as they followed their mother out of the room.
(image from Pinterest)
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “yarn”:
Aryn paused her horse and watched a dark spot on the horizon as it drifted around the peak of a mountain. She thought it was an eagle at first. As she watched, it moved off eastward, towards the farming village Aryn knew was nearby. As it did, Aryn’s sharp hearing picked up the distant sound of the bird’s hunting cry, and it wasn’t the sound of an eagle.
It was her quarry.
Aryn urged her horse into a gallop and took off towards the village, hoping to get there in time. As she rode, she wondered, not for the first time, just what she’d been thinking when she’d accepted the job offer.
She’d been approached by the city’s magistrate to help the outlying villages with a problem of their livestock being poached. The one doing the poaching, however, wasn’t a person but large bird of prey. And not just any bird of prey, but a giant, legendary bird that has used the area for its hunting grounds for centuries.
A roc.
The magistrate had begged Aryn to help, but she wasn’t sure just what she could do to help. She’d never taken on a creature like that before. She had started to turn down the magistrate, but then he had promised her a hefty reward if she could get rid of the bird.
Aryn instantly accepted the offer.
And now here she was, rushing off towards this village to face a giant bird that could steal a full-grown cow with no problem (and even elephants, according to legend), with no plan or the vaguest idea of what she possibly could do to get rid of it.
As she neared the village, she spotted a heard of cow and bulls grazing in the distance. The next thing she knew, a large, dark form dropped down from the sky with a piercing shriek. Aryn watched in amazement as the giant bird scooped up a pair of cows in its huge talons and took off, heading back towards the mountain.
As Aryn watched the roc leave, she wondered just what she’d gotten herself into, and cursed her greed and reputation for getting her into this.
She urged the horse on into the village so she could talk with the residents and devise some sort of plan of action.
(image found on Pinterest)
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “roc”:
“What a day,” Jimmy grumbled as he plopped down on his couch and leaned back.
Nothing had seemed to go right all day. He was late getting to work, thanks to horrible traffic. Things just seemed to go wrong at work, too, and he wound up getting in trouble with the boss, even though it wasn’t his fault. Then he wound up arguing with his girlfriend after work and he’d just stormed off. To top it off, he got a speeding ticket on his way home. As he sat there on the couch, reliving all the bad things that’d happened, he didn’t think it could get any worse. Then a thunderstorm started up outside and his power went out, and he thought it was just the perfect way to end his day.
He was in such a bad mood, he didn’t even feel like eating dinner. Instead, Jimmy just decided to go to bed early. Even then, he was afraid he wouldn’t sleep good, that he’d be plagued by nightmares. As the thunderstorm continued outside, mirroring the turmoil he felt from his bad day, Jimmy managed to drift off to sleep.
He woke up the next morning, feeling refreshed. He was also surprised to realize he hadn’t had any nightmares. He was still a little hesitant to get up, though, afraid of having another bad day. But as he looked out the window, he saw it was a bright, shiny day. He smiled and found himself in a better mood already. He checked his phone, and found a message from his girlfriend apologizing for the fight they’d had an offering to make it up to him. He also found messages of apology from his work, and a message from an old friend he hadn’t seen in a long time who wanted to meet up.
Jimmy got up from bed and got ready for work, humming a happy little tune as he did so. He felt so much better than he had he day before. “What a difference a day makes,” he thought.
And in case anyone got an earworm from the title, here’s the song:
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “difference”:
Mitch was in the middle of his daily run, jogging along a path bounded by a creek on one side and trees and shrubbery on the other. It was a peaceful natural area, and he loved to jog there in the mornings because he felt more energized after being out in nature. In the evenings, he usually would come there to walk with his dog, Riley, to relax after a long day at work.
Mitch was approaching a large clump of shrubbery when he heard a small noise coming from the bushes. He stopped running and listened, not sure of what he’d heard. Then he heard it again – a short, high-pitched meow. Intrigued, he slowly approached and looked into the nearest bush. Peering at him from inside the bush was a pair of yellow cat eyes. As he watched, a small pink mouth opened and meowed again. Then a small, black kitten timidly crawled out, sat in front of him, and meowed up at him with its tiny voice.
Mitch stared at the kitten in surprise. He had certainly not expected to come across something like this on his daily run. The kitten wound itself around his legs and continued to let out tiny meows as he tried to decide what to do. The kitten didn’t look very old. It had probably been weened not long ago. But it was kind of dirty and looked slightly underweight. He didn’t think it belonged to anyone. He considered taking it home, but he wasn’t sure how Riley would react to it or how the kitten would react to the dog.
The kitten began climbing his leg, then made its way all the way up to his shoulder, where it crouched and began purring. Mitch instinctively reached up and petted it, and that was it. He was going take the kitten home.
Cutting his run short, Mitch returned to his car and headed home. When he opened front door, Riley greeted him enthusiastically, jumping at him and trying to lick his face. Mitch had to hold the kitten out to the way as he tried to calm the yellow Labrador down.
Mitch ordered the dog to sit, then took the kitten into the living room. He put the kitten on the floor then called for Riley. The dog ran into the living room and stopped instantly when he saw the kitten. Mitch watched anxiously to see how the two would react.
Riley crept up on the kitten slowly, curious to investigate the newcomer. The kitten hunched down and gave a short hiss, but didn’t attack immediately. Mitch took it as a good sign.
Riley sniffed the kitten, and the kitten leaned back as the dog invaded its personal space, but it still didn’t attack.
Riley finished sniffing, took a step back, and sat down. He panted and his tail wagged. Then he dropped to all fours and let out a short yip, wanting to the play with the kitten. The kitten stared at it with narrowed eyes, as if it considered the dog and its request beneath him. But Riley continued yipping, and the kitten finally gave in. It lunged at Riley with its claws sheathed, and the dog jumped and ran off. Riley paused at the entrance to the living room and looked back. The kitten was standing where Riley had been. It stared at the dog a moment, then ran after Riley.
The two continued like that for a few minutes, with the kitten keeping Riley on the run throughout the house, playing chase. Mitch settled down on the couch with a sigh of relief. He would still keep an eye on the two for a few days, but he thought that them not immediately fighting and playing instead was a good sign and that they would become good friends.
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “run”:
In the misty moonlight, Aryn crouched on the rooftop and watched the building across the street. She wondered what she’d been thinking when she’d accepted the job. She’d been told it was a house that she’d have to break into. Except this huge building was no house. It was a mansion. The large building and its surrounding land took up at least half the block on that side of the street. And there were practically no trees, just some bushes and flower gardens. So she didn’t have anything to hide behind if she tried to sneak up.
Aryn watched as a pair of armed guards patrolled the outside of the mansion. She frowned as she tried to think. How was she going to get inside? The moonlight might be misty but it was still a full moon, so there was still plenty of light for her to been by the guards. Why, oh why, the young girl wondered, couldn’t her client have waited a few more days, so the moon wouldn’t be quite as bright? She understood how important the item they wanted her to get for them was, but surely a few more days wouldn’t hurt, would it?
The sound of horses clopping along the street reached Aryn, and she looked to see a carriage approaching the mansion from her left. Perfect! she thought. She quickly and quietly slipped down from roof. Keeping low to the ground, she ran up and jumped onto the back of the carriage as it turned onto the road leading up the mansion.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the mansion and the armed guards approached to talk with the driver and the occupants. While they were occupied, Aryn slid from the back of the carriage and quietly darted around to the side of the mansion. She paused to make sure she hadn’t been spotted, then crept along to the back of the mansion. There she found the servants entrance door. She checked it and found it locked, as she’d expected given the lateness of the night.
She pulled her cloth-wrapped lock picking tools from the leather pouch on her waist and got to work. Within moments, she heard the click of the lock. She put the tools away, quietly opened the door, and slipped inside.
After giving herself a few seconds to let her eyes adjust, Aryn closed the door and softly crept across the kitchen floor to the main area of the mansion, in search of the item she’d been hired to steal.
Aryn is a character I used once before on Stream of Consciousness Saturday. You can read it here.
And in case I gave anyone an earworm, here’s the Dean Martin song by the same name:
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “-sty”:
Aleah stepped out onto the balcony. She leaned against the railing and gazed up at the stars and moon shining high above. A light breeze blew a strand of red hair into her face, and she absently brushed it away as memories of Nico played through her mind.
She missed him, longed to see him again, but she feared she never would. The memory of her father catching her and Nico sitting together in the garden came to the fore. He had chased Nico off, warning him never to come back because he’s not good enough for her. Then her father had yelled at her, forbidding her to see Nico ever again because it would tarnish their family’s name and reputation, and then he’d sent her to her room.
A tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away just as a shooting star crossed the night sky. She clutched the necklace Nico had given her and made a desperate wish on the shooting star.
Below the balcony, the bushes rustled. Aleah jumped slightly, startled out of her memories. Then she heard her name being softly called. She leaned over the railing to look, and Nico stepped out of the bushes with a rucksack slung over his shoulder. He held a hand up to her and said, “Come with me.”
Aleah was shocked. “What?”
“Come with me. It’s the only way for us to be together.”
“Are you sure?”
“Your father made it perfectly clear. We’ll leave and start over somewhere else. Somewhere our families aren’t known. Somewhere we can be free and live our own lives. Will you come?”
Aleah looked behind her as she considered his offer, seeing not only her room but all that she’d be leaving behind. The wealthy lifestyle she’d grown up with had been nice enough, but it hadn’t made her truly happy. Not like being with Nico had. She’d only ever been truly happy with Nico.
She turned back to Nico and grinned. “Yes!”
Aleah crossed over to the trellis beside the balcony and carefully climbed down. She took Nico’s hand, and the couple ran off into the night.
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “above/below”:
