The Gate

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The gate is open; won’t you come in?
It beckons as you pass, enticing in its mystery.
Whispering your name, you wonder how it knows.

Curiosity tugs at the hem of your skirt
a small child, wanting for attention
leading you by the hand to show you.

Crossing the threshold bears a sense of significance
though you know not why; like stepping beyond the walls of a city
you once thought you knew so well into a new hidden recess.
Your heart skips a beat, excited by adventure, it knows no fear.

A chill rushing down your spine
tiny fragments of movement
skirt the periphery of your vision

With rapt focus and attention
tiny webs made visible by grace
of moonlight shining
sing sweetly to your memory,
a forgotten lullaby perhaps?

These webs, no ordinary orb weavers dream;
made of crystalline shimmers
mesmerizing and ghostly
as they dance with the breeze.

As the gate creaks closed behind,
much as you knew it would,
you wonder if you’ll ever leave.
Somewhere in the darkness, a voice
answers the thought with an echo,”if you so wish.”

Stepping forward, gazing steadily
ahead, the newly cleared path
lined with trees branches out
in the leaf-strewn distance.

Knowing only that you are meant
to follow this trail,
you reach behind you
to lock the gate.





Unknown Caller Prompt

That damn phone won’t stop ringing! I thought. Why can’t Isabella just answer the phone? She never answers it, just lets it ring and ring until it goes to voicemail and no one ever leaves a message. FINE! I’ll answer it.

Hello?” Silence. Slightly more annoyed,” Hellooo?” Still nothing. I glanced at the caller ID. “Anonymous,” hmm, that’s odd; since when does caller ID come up “anonymous”? 

“Look, whoever you are, you need to stop calling this number.” The only thing I could think of was that maybe it was one of Isabella’s old boyfriends calling to harass her. “Isabella doesn’t want to talk to you, so just stop calling.”

Just then, there was a crackling noise on the line and deep voice whispered, “The lamb sleeps peacefully among wolves.” What the fuck?

“Who is this?” I demanded. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?” Then I heard the click and the line went dead. Now, what? Who the hell calls repeatedly, refuses to speak and then says something so bizarre? It has to be a prank caller. I’m going to have to remember to ask Isabella about this. 

The next morning I left a note on the table for Izzy.



Had a strange call come in repeatedly again yesterday. I finally answered because they wouldn’t stop calling. When I picked up no one was there. I was just about to hang up and a male voice said, “The lamb sleeps peacefully among wolves.” Then he hung up. Any idea who would want to prank call us? Whoever it is, can you please get them to stop calling here while I’m trying to sleep? It’s getting a bit old.  

Love ya, Bugsy


Izzy had called me Bugsy since the day we met and I hoped signing with her nickname for me would soften the tone of the note. I wasn’t mad at her, just tired of the bizarre phone calls at all hours of the day and night. Why can’t I just have a normal girlfriend? Preferably one that doesn’t have a sordid past. One that doesn’t attract all sorts of weirdos. Hmm, what does that say about me?