2-25-2020 – Just a Few More Steps

By now, it was obvious it would be long after sundown when I exited the forest onto a road. Wouldn’t be much help — the sky was moonless. I was eight thousand feet elevation on a south face of the Wallowas at the top of Mule Peak. My pickup was five thousand feet and six miles below.

I’d placed a portion of ashes near this lookout where she almost froze to death. My objective accomplished, all that was left was to hike back down the meadow, long in shadow from our star sinking beyond Oregon’s Cascades into the Pacific, and then through the timber. I knew the forest below was choked with bug-killed blow-down. This project had been risky. But travel below the open in the dark would be dangerous.

I fell frequently. The pin and screws put in three months earlier to fasten several pieces of my left femur back together held. Thank you, Jesus and surgeon. I tripped and crashed for hours in the opaque blackness. Went a mile the wrong way before realizing was holding the Garmin GPS upside down. Stupid!

Finally, I came out on an overgrown road remnant from past log skidding — good! I thought, just a few more steps, and quickened my pace. I body slammed the locked door of my dark blue Silverado.

Damn— it was dark.  =|;-)}

Donavin Leckenby


The Rive Gauche and the Arc de Triomphe- Magnifique! I am delighted with my first trip to France. The cramped space of the airplane, the long journey, and the steep price of the hotel are still worth it. I now look up at La Tour Eiffel- the jewel of Paris, a sight I’ve longed to see, one previously only seen in travel brochures. I wait in line for a chance to view the “City of Light” from the upper deck. Just a few more steps, and I’ll begin the climb. Then, up and up, I go -just a few more steps. The hot summer sun is beating down on my souvenir bereted head. Just a few more steps, I tell myself. My legs are cramping- I need to stop and rest. “C’mon old man,” a teenaged American tourist blares, “It’s just a few more steps.” Sweating and panting, I finally reach the top. What a view! -it was worth the struggle. This is great, but how do I get back down, as the elevator is out? I see the same bratty kid look at me and say:” Get goin’, it’s just a few more steps.”

Tom Rutherford

May 24, 2016 – Prompt – Neurotic Sports Mascot

Billy wanted to be a quarterback in high school.  He’d dreamed and obsessed about it since he could talk.  How the idea came to him, he couldn’t have said.  It was just there.

Unfortunately, his sisters reached 5’ 10” but Billy never got past the 5’5” mark.  He pestered each coach every season that passed but the lawyers for the school stated it would be too dangerous and the school would be liable for a suit if someone squashed Billy’s little body.

The very last spring of his senior year Billy finally gave up.  But he wasn’t going to sit on the bench any longer.  He and his mother made up a suit for him.  A huge rabbit suit with very long floppy ears and a bug bushy tail.  He looked ridiculous, which pleased him.  He showed up in the middle of Half Time in the last game of the season.  He danced across the field, doing cartwheels and silly dance movements.  A deathly silence fell over the entire stadium.

Then suddenly the laughter began and rolled out onto the field.  People stomped the bleachers and clapped.  The school team was named The Wild Wolves.  Billy figured if he couldn’t go big—he’d go small.

Pinkie Paranya


I get into my damned dragon outfit for the sixth time this week. Yes, I’m the mascot for the Yankee Dragons baseball team.

As I drive to the ballpark in my Chevy some guy cuts me off and as I pass, I give him a one-finger wave.

You can’t imagine my horror when I realize it is the person dressed as a chicken—the mascot for the other team we’re playing. As soon  as we both get to the stadium the chicken gets our of the car and attacks me, right there in front of all the people waiting to enter the stadium.

A chicken and a dragon fighting draws the attention of the local and national press. Soon we are surrounded by cameras and video tapes. I finally manage to get the better of the chicken and the baseball game begins.

Later that evening I sit in the living room watching the ten o’clock news. When the dragon/chicken fight is shown, my wife and I laugh our heads off.

“Only bad thing about this,” says my wife, “I have to get the damn chicken outfit cleaned again.”

Ellynore Seybold-Smith