Top Terrace

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Finally, the upper nest!

Getting it was not only about ousting the head of their band. Battling persistent bumble foot, Bellow Baggins was not much of an opponent anymore. The issue was the other wannabes who jockeyed for position. Not the least of them being Peg-The-Leg, a nest brother and beak in Squeal’s side since hatching.

It took finesse, skill, and a good bit of cunning to throw the competition off the ledge. Figuratively these days, but no less satisfying. For Squeal never forgot the terror of Flight-School (or as fledglings called it, Fly-or-Die days). Peg-The-Leg had the benefit of an extra nesting day and a bigger mouth. It had taken little effort for him to shove Squeal out. Almost to his death.

No matter. Time had been kinder to the peewee. Now Peg-The-Leg was taken down a peg to nesting in the eaves, while Squeal paraded a top terrace.

 

 

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

 

Walk The Line

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“He’s never going to make it,” Benji declared.

Shelly shrugged. “I think he can.”

Benji twitched in irritation. “Mark my words. He’s never gonna make it. Not after all the eggnog he’d snagged.”

Shelly sniffed. Eggnog? There was eggnog? He wanted some!

Tilly wriggled between them and squeezed herself onto the couch. “What’cha doing?”

“Nothing.” Benji huffed.

“Ignore Benji, Sis, he’s just being his grouchy self.” Shelly scooted over a bit to make room for their sibling, who was younger by whole two minutes and by that officially the baby. Well, till the next babies had arrived.

“What is he doing down there?” Tilly squeaked. “If Mama sees him on the floor in the middle of the living room he is toast!”

“He’s trying to walk the line to the other side,” Shelly explained. Toast? Why’d she have to mention toast? Now he wanted toast.

“He’s walking funny,” Tilly noted.

“Of course he is. He’s drunk.” Benji muttered. “Now hush.”

“Sorry, Benji,” Tilly demurred, but true to form could barely keep herself still for half a second. “His tail is droopy. It is all in the tail, you know. He can’t keep to the line if his back-end is all draggy. Hey, Giddy,” she called, her whiskers trembling in excitement, “you can do it! lift your tail! It’ll give you better balance! It’s my turn next!”

 

 

 

For Keith’s Kreative Kue #242

 

 

 

No Chicken, No Egg.

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Photo: An Errant Knight @ Wikimedia Commons

 

“The sign says not to hike beyond this point.”

“Signs can’t talk,” Jerry guffawed, “and anyway, that’s just legal butt-covering.”

Robert looked at the icy terrain. It looked awfully slippery. It was getting late and they still needed to hike back. He didn’t think they should continue. He also hated being Nagging Grandma. He shrugged.

Bennett elbowed him and pushed to the lead. “Well, I’m no sissy. All the fun’s up there. Road less traveled and all that.”

Robert’s neck warmed at the insult. Bennett always had to make things a competition, including who was Jerry’s ‘real’ friend and who the fifth-wheeler.

“You coming or you chicken?” Bennett sniggered.

“Last one up’s a rotten egg!” Jerry grinned.

The two barreled ahead.

Robert trudged below them, full of dread.

Later he would wonder how to tell their parents that chicken and rotten egg were the last words they ever said.

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Bridal Veil Falls, Utah

 

She Checks, Mate.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold

 

Matt tapped his lip and danced his foot but I knew it had nothing to do with planning his next move.

“Is your mom home?” he grumbled.

“Yep.”

“So?”

“She’s not going anyplace,” I answered.

“Not like she understands any of this.” Matt was too proud to admit that her presence affected his concentration.

“Tammy’s staying.”

He scowled but must’ve heard the edge in my voice, and dropped it.

No one messed with my little sister. Nonverbal doesn’t mean stupid. Also, Tammy was memorizing all his moves. She’d show me, and next time Matt and I play, I’d win.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

An Arrow Spent

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Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

She used to splice the water like an arrow, undeterred by swells.

She’d always been better than him, though he never admitted it and she was too proud to brag and sometimes too overconfident.

They pretended playful competitions but those inevitably turned into dogged races that left them near exhaustion. Luke even capsized once, far from shore. He was upset by her gaining on him and so tired that all he managed was to slap the water with his oar and spin his boat into the wide belly of a wave. Nearly spent herself, she barely managed to help him into hers.

She’d give everything to race him again.

She gazed into the bay. She could no longer row. Her boat rested, overturned. Perhaps it kept her brother company. He, too, was beached, six feet below.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Arrow in 135 words

 

 

Heated

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Photo: Ofir Asif

 

In the heat

Of the desert

In the heat

Of the fight

They will spar

Under swelter

To claim heat

With their might.

 

 

For The Tuesday Photo Challenge

 

Dark Delivery

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Photo: A. Asif

 

Destinations matter

But so does the path taken toward them.

Ends do not always justify the means

Or conveyance.

Lofty goals to imagined glory

Only have prerogative

If they do not burn

Destruction

Or trample others

In their wake.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Beyond Compare

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In this world of constant media tally, hierarchy, and perceived competition, it is all too easy to compare ourselves to others. It is especially easy to rank ourselves relative to those who do things better, achieve more, seem to know more, have more, do things with more ease than we managed so far. After all, there seems to be an endless stream of listings–the best in this, the most accomplished in that, the richest/biggest/strongest/thinnest/best-dressed/most-tweeted/most-friended/most-bought … It is as if we are expected to place ourselves along ordinal strings of relative abilities (and by extension, relative worthiness). As if we are to define ourselves by where others are. To chase the pace of others so we not lose our spot.

Compare yourself to others, and neutral becomes unimportant. You either win, or lose. You are either the best, or risk being the worst. You run: for more wealth, more friends, more recognition, better placement. You look behind your shoulder. You run some more.

Comparison itself is not a bad thing. It can serve as catalyst for progress–you may see someone achieve what you did not know was possible, and it can give you hope to try for dreams you did not dare believe you could make real before. However, it can also–and all too often do–serve to put yourself down, to discourage, to dissuade, to convince yourself that you just don’t have what it takes (though supposedly others do). Comparison can have you believe that you cannot do it and might as well give up on the dream before you even try it. Because others already did it better. Or got there first. Or would.

Comparison is energy–it just is. How we use it defines whether it binds or frees us. Whether it restores or drains. Having awareness of what is possible builds. It infuses motivation. It sustains. It fosters growth. However, relative worthiness stilts. It instills anxiety. It fosters disillusion. It chips at self-worth.

You have the power to choose which forms of comparison you use. Be wary of how you compare, to whom, and why you do so. If you choose to compare yourself to others to show how better you may be than some; know that alongside whatever you think you are measuring, you will also be planting a seed of doubt and failure by making your own worth dependent on your relative ranking among others. If, on the other side, you compare yourself to what you could before and where you’ve come from and what you now believe is possible; know that alongside this perspective you’d be planting seeds of strength and clear-seeing. You will be inviting possibility, expansion, gratitude, and generosity.

Comparing yourself with others–by definition–nurtures shoots of jealousy. They may be well hidden under social platitudes and self-deceit, but you must know that if your sense of who you are depends on where you place in relation to the success of others, there will be some spot of wishing for another’s failure so that your space may advance.

This is not necessary for growth. Like light, more progress by more souls only means brighter futures for each one and less darkened corners for all.

Set yourself free of rank and skin-deep importance. This does not mean you just lean back on half-baked laurels and dismiss the need for further growth. Rather, it calls for finding motivations that do not include climbing over others to get ahead. It calls for identifying the mountains that are uniquely yours to climb and the vistas that are meant for you to see. It releases possibilities that no one can take away from you, for they are within you, and not dependent on another’s stumbling or bowing down or burning out.

Use others’ success as guideposts, not podiums. Utilize their abilities as mentoring for what is possible. Identify what you would and would not accept as paths to growth. Find hope in journeys that belay what you used to believe your could do, then chart anew. There are no limits and there is no race but those you place against your own old habits or lazy bones.

You’ll be stoking the fire of your own dreams, rather than the engine that spins the hamster-wheels of others. Cut ties to relative succeeding, you will enable others to follow and snip free their own. Disavow competition for self-knowledge and self-prodding. Your horizons will become clear of motivations that were soaked and cloaked in jealousy and greed. You’ll walk where you are meant to walk and be who you are meant to be.

Moreover, you will forge a path for young ones, caught as they may already be in constant ranking as a measure of self-worth.

Become a beacon for individual ability. For less competition. More growth.

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