Ma Belle Dame sans Merci

by Ellen Pepper 

 

Tale of a Woman who felt Scorned

Gaze no more upon her formidable aspect.
She was a dreadful fiend with fearsome eyes.
She had power to enchant,
and to heal,
and to turn some to stone.
She lived in the distant west at night's border.

Percy was a charismatic man of elegant mien.
Did he set out to slay her tender heart? Of course not.
Fault him not, he bears no accountability.
He is an innocent man.

Our Belle Dame, Belle to friends,
saw him first on a Spring morning.
He was sat at a writing desk near a window
gazing out at the sea.
A quill in hand, he wrote of events of the time,
his opinions thereof,
and his plans to change the world.

They spoke. They laughed.
They found comfort with each other.
Belle saw him as the Ideal Man,
a paragon of masculinity.
With his words, he touched her heart.

Percy saw her as light and entertaining,
without being a distraction from his labour of love.
He had not an inkling of what lurked in the depths of her soul,
The darkness there, awaiting its awakening.
He was naive. Trusting. 

On the night that Belle professed her abiding love for him,
Percy drew away in distress.
He had no desire to wound her with the truth,
but he knew it was only right to say it.
His heart belonged to another - his dedication to his work.
No human could deflect him from his sacred task.

Poor Belle. At first, her heart felt battered and bruised.
After a while, the rage grew.
Rage against Fate, rage against Life and eventually rage against Percy who had sent her away with no further word.
And then, her Dark Side arose.

She vowed vengeance. Retribution.
She composed songs of rage and sorrow.
She wrote scathing missives and sent them via hellhounds.
Passing him at the agora, she uttered words of barbed impact,
delivered by tongue daggers.

Let it suffice to say that Percy no longer felt affection for her.
He felt dismay at first which then became disgust, despair, and finally contempt.
He abandoned his home and settled in a land far away.
He was more careful with women in later days.

Belle went on to marry a Professor of Humours in Athens.
He patiently tamed her violent ways with an ease
that belied his initial trepidation of her fiendish phase.
Her infernal rage dissipated and she was at peace.
When she died, a butterfly rose from her grave.

 ©Ellen Pepper 2025
image credit:  https://luisafumi-digitalart.com/product/medusa-the-gorgon/

Shapeshifter Street

 

Shapeshifter

by Ellen Pepper


Seen posted to a streetlamp in Manhattan: MEET ME ON SUNDAY

Clichéd rain-slicked street reflecting flashing  neon lights.
Man dressed all in black, hunting knife strapped to his upper thigh.
Walking at a deliberately formidable pace.
The sharp aroma of Cutty Sark enswathing him like saran wrap.
Tobacco juice dripping onto his black beard from the dip he chews.
Grimacing as he passes an alleyway reeking of freshly trickled urine.

It's Sunday now and he has a meeting to attend.
He saw a sign on a lamp post.

Sister Ruthless of the Blessed Black Whip, dressed in a habit of midnight blue, sits on a fold-up chair at their meeting place.
She's smirking because she knows that tonight is the night.
For a hefty fee, Sister Ruthless disciplines Saville Row-suited business men who feel that they weren't punished enough in parochial school. She charges by the amount of lashes she dispenses.

Since the man in black, aka Fred, was raised in an obscure cult - members numbering fewer then 300 - he has the belief that all formal religions are also cultish and finds them to be corrupt power plays. Therefore, he's amused by the BDSM outfit the faux nun wears.

"Hey, Sister Ruth! Tonight's the night!"
Both chuckle and they bump fists.
A man on a unicycle rides by shouting, "You can run but you can't hide, Fred! Tonight's the night!"
Fred laughingly says, "How's the poutine in Québec, Théo? Will you be joining us later?"

Théo points at his clown uniform, "Mais oui, Freddie, but first I must change to appropriate event attire."
Fred replies, "Don't go changin', tryin' to please me. Come as you are."
Théo pulls out an ebony silken cape from his magical clown bag and ties it around his neck, covering his clown suit. He takes up his position beside Fred.

 In the distance, there arises a tremendous clatter of hobnailed boots striking the cobblestones as what appears to be an army of very small men approaches.

 Théo swears under his breath, "Merde! Tabarnak! Are they hobbits??!!"
Fred gently corrects him, saying, "Hobbits don't wear boots."

As the army of little people draws nearer, the nun, the clown and the man in black notice that they are brandishing weapons - mysterious shining light-forming sickles.

Sister Ruthless, somewhat aghast wonders how they can possibly beat this team when they've never seen weapons of this kind before. Suddenly, the night takes on a threatening ambiance.

"Fear not," whispers Fred, "I have an idea."

As the diminutive troupe comes within a few strides of the three, Fred takes a menacing stance and without shouting, projects his voice to state simply: “I am obliged by law to warn you not to continue.”
Then, chameleon-like, he sheds his man in black human casing to reveal a nile-green reptilian form and the miniature army draws back in fear, raising their lit-up weapons.

Sister Ruthless snickers and says, "Fred has earned First Blood by causing fear. Will you concede victory and retreat now or would you like to experience the full panoply of what we have to offer?

The Leader of the opposers confers with his soldiers.
"We will fight to the death. We fear not the Shapeshifters. Our Land is sacred and we must defend it."

Sister Ruthless shimmers for a moment before she is revealed in her true aspect - an arachnid. A rather large terrestrial invertebrate...a scorpion.

Again, the small guys retreat a few feet. They mutter amongst themselves. The Leader steps forward, trembling a wee bit.
"You can only defeat us if we fear you. We do NOT fear you. There's nothing you can do to cause us to ..."
He gasps and pales as Théo unties his cape and slowly reveals his...
CLOWN SUIT!!!!

Shrieking in terror, some of the little guys drop dead in fear immediately. The invading army turns tail and tries to run away, falling all over themselves and each other, screaming, "IT'S A CLOWN!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

It seems that, of all the Shapeshifters on duty that night, the Clown was the most effective at routing the hostile enemy.

The dead tell no tales. What happens on the street stays in the street.  I know because I live on the street.  It can be dark and grim. Welcome to Planet Earth. (BJW)

©Ellen Pepper 2025

Overheard in a cafe

 

 

Overheard in a cafe

by Ellen Pepper

 

Harold: "Never take me for granite, Becca."

Becca: "It's 'granted'."

Harold: "No, I meant to say granite. I'm more like soapstone on the Mohs hardness scale."

Becca: "I don't get you, Harold. I just don't. It's like we speak different languages."

Harold: "Becca, I cherish you. I mean this sincerely. But we are unsuited to each other. You will never grok my allusions... and you lack a sense of hunour."

Becca: "Allusions or illusions? Words have meanings, you know."

Harold: (sighs) "I rest my case."
___________________________________

Alicia: "There is a truth that must be spoken. It's time."

Gwen: "Can we not discuss this in public, Ally?"

Alicia: "Oh, but we must deal with this in a public place because it makes it less likely that you'll have a hissy fit when I share some hard truths with you."

G: "There is nothing you can say that I'm not aware of."

A: "Oh...so you know that your selfishness knows no bounds? That you show a lack of concern for anyone other than yourself? That you are mendacious and manipulative? That you charm and then alienate everyone with whom you come in contact? You're aware of all of this and yet you have not resorted to therapy?

G: "Why don't you tell me how you really feel? Not that I care. You mean nothing to me now. I don't need people like you in my life. I'm leaving."

A: "Before you go, let me remind you of the time we were checking out apartments to share and in every unit you decided that you were entitled to the largest room because, as you said, you're a slob and need more room to spread out your stuff. Not for a moment did you consider a more equitable way to determine how each room was allocated."

"And how about every time a guy expressed interest in me, you'd sidle up and whisper in his ear that your mouth was available to give them an immediate "happy ending" and then you'd both head off to a private spot to complete the transaction. You actually did me a favour by revealing the losers for what they are. So, thank you for that."

G:  (gasps histrionically) "Is nothing private? Is nothing sacred?"

A: "Oh, please stop acting like a fragile flower of femininity. You know exactly what you're doing at all times. Don't roll your eyes at me. Let us never speak of this again. As a matter of fact, let us never speak with each other again. You no longer exist in my world."

G: "I will ruin you for this, mark my words! I'll tell everyone what you're really like."

A: "Yeah, right. Good luck with that. The people who know me already know all about me and have done for years. They know about you because you conned them all. You came out of nowhere and that's where you'll return. Karma always knows where you live. I'm done with you now. You may leave."

_________________________________________

Eric: "Hi, I'm Eric, Kristina's friend from the library? Are you Stacey?"

Stacey: "Hello Eric, please join me. Yes, I'm Stacey. Nice to meet you. Are you as nervous as I am?"

E: "Yes, for sure. I've never been on a blind date before. I'm not sure how to operate this sort of thing."

S: "Well, I guess we're supposed to just chat and get to know each other. It's not like we're getting married today or anything." (titters briefly - stops and blushes)

E: "I never plan to get married. Don't want kids, either."

S: (somewhat taken aback) "I see...So! What do you do for a living?" 

E: "I'd rather not say. You know what it's like when you sign an NDA, right?

S: "Actually, no, I don't. Have you ever been married? Is that why you avoid marriage now?"

E: "No, never. I just don't like living with other people. I spend a lot of time alone."

S: "Do you have pets?"

E: "YES! I have Arnold - he's a Ball Python. He's an Enchi Albino. Not dangerous and quite docile."

S: "You have a snake for a pet and you don't want to live with anyone else. Do I have that right?"

E: "Yes, that's just me. I'm a loner."

S: "So why, Eric, did you agree to come out on a blind date? What were you hoping to achieve?"

E: "I really don't know. Kristi said she'd make it worth my while if I met up with you so I said I would and here I am."

S: "Just how is Kristi going to make it up to you?"

E: "She said I could use her cottage to hunt deer during the season this year."

S: "Did she mention that I'm vegetarian and belong to an animal rescue group?"

E: "I detect some disapproval in your tone, Stace."

S: "Don't call me Stace - we don't even know each other. Look, thanks for stopping by, but I really don't think that you and I have anything in common. Let's just say goodbye and wish each other well, ok, Eric? So long."

E: "Goodbye then, I wish you well. Are you going to finish that pastry?"

S: "Eat it, Eric. Just eat it. Hasta nunca."

_______________________________________

 ©Ellen Pepper 2025

 

Sam's Son

by Ellen Pepper

Standing here at the edge of the precipice
contemplating the length of time it would take my body
to hit the river far, far below.
Such a blisteringly hot and sunny day.
I wonder what keeps me from jumping.

I have a new baby,
a son,
I am a Dad now.
He won't let us sleep
two months he's been crying,
protesting his birth.
I am tired unto death.
And I worry,
Telling me to stop worrying is like
 telling sand to become a tree.

Imagine, just imagine
if I accidentally fell over the edge.
Imagine.

I wake up gasping.
Was that a dream
or just the sound of thunder.

Again, I stare into the abyss,
Calculating how long it would take,
Falling into the void
Wind whistling in my ears,
Would time slow down
as it often does during consequential events?
What would kill me -
the fear stopping my heart
or the...

Would I drown first or
would the
splattering of my body into a billion pieces as
I smash into the savage rocks in the water end me?

Again, I wake gasping and sweaty.
The kid is squalling,
the mother goes to him.

Ah, here I stand again,
One stumble and I am free.
Let me just get closer.
Oh! The edge gave way.
I fall.
I fear.
The wind is cold.
I'm tumbling over in the air.
Such a long way down.
Time stretches out.
I cannot breathe.

The water reaches up to me,
coming closer,
This is the end of...



©Ellen Pepper 2025

Message from a Stranger

 

Hi there... I'm John Williams and I live in Sudbry.
I've been reading your posts and I'd like to meet you.
You're so funny and smart and your avatar is hot!
I'm not married or anything. No kids.
How would you like to meet for coffee?
________________

Hi again... It's me, John.
You haven't replied. Have I said the wrong thing?
It would be great if you could send me some pix of yourself.
Just doing normal things like washing dishes or bathing.
Nudes would be really nice. I could send you some, too.
By the way, I drive a Subaru!

_______________________

Hiya.  Still waiting for your reply. It's been a few days.
I'm pretty rich, ya know.
Everyone who knows me says that I'm a nice guy.
I could show you a really good time.
Let's start by meeting at a cafe.

_____________________
It's me... John again.
Okay, I wasn't completely honest when I said I'm single.
I've kinda been married for 17 years.
3 kids - all teenagers.
I have a dog. He only has 3 legs now due to the accident with the lawn mower. I thought it was turned off.

Look, my wife doesn't understand me.
And she's gotten fat and sloppy since we met.
We haven't touched in 8 years.
I don't think she'd mind if I took my needs elsewhere.
Ok, I don't have a Subaru - I drive a Kia.
So, how about it? Want to meet up?

_________________________
Hiya, it's me.  John.
Yes, you blocked my other account
so I had to make this new one to ask you
 why you blocked me.
I've been open and honest with you.
The least you could do is hear me out.

Ok, I'm not rich. I'm not married.
I'm in Kingston jail and will be for 12 more years.
They say I killed 9 women but that's a lie.
Those women died of natural causes.
I'm a nice guy, everyone knows that.

I'm allowed visitors. You could stop by some time.
-----------------------------------

Ok, my name is not John Williams.
It's Tom-Tom Bledsoe Junior.

I used to be a welder.

It's lonely in here.

Please don't block me again.
Really! I'm a nice guy. Ask anyone.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

 

Not Tied to the Whipping Post

by Ellen Pepper 

"Sorry, I've got no energy to tie you to the whipping post."
That's what I said after a hard day at the grocery stores.
"You'll have to punish yourself, no need to boast.
The clamps and zipties are in your set of drawers."

Just getting there had its lows,
with my Hollywood hairstyle all askew - 
 the wind gusting through the truck's open windows.
I entered a store looking like a shrew.

The produce at the first store was moldy and soggy.
The prices obscene; the staff were friendly.
The aisles were clean and some shelves were empty. 
The meat smelled of manure, the cheap steaks were $35.

The cheese was on sale, if you like the blue growth.
The yogurt, out of date a month ago, but
Tortillas were even older and quite tough to the touch.
The staff were friendly, though.

A short wait for a cashier 
who evidently was deafened since the last visit.
She was friendly enough, though.
Just emotionally distant.

The second store is for the well-to-do,
So prices are hilariously over the top.
A pint box of Mexican strawberries only $9.99
A sterling silver steak at $72.

All of the stores are humongously large.
So much walking is involved,
That I don't have to exercise at home.
And that's a saving grace.

At home, the putting away begins,
And ends about an hour later,
with chickens bagged and frozen.
And everything in its place.

"So no, honey, 
Not in the mood to rhyme this song.
I'm just too tired to kick you in the balls tonight. 
You go on and amuse yourself, oh, and
Sweetie? Can you peel me a grape?"



©Ellen Pepper 2025

Elegy for a Quiet Man

 

Elegy for a Quiet Man

Farewell, George NoMan.

by Ellen Pepper

He spake righteously,
if he spake at all.
How the plethora of charmed women
hung on his every word,
albeit few and far between they were.

His bristling black sideburns will no longer impress
the ladies who swooned.
His stately manner of dress decaying,
forgotten in his musty cupboard.

George NoMan is gone from this plane.
His like to be seen no more.
A quiet man, cards held close to vest.
Saying not an extraneous word.

No one can claim to have known old George.
He kept to himself. He liked it that way.
No ties that bound 'til life was snuffed.
No joys that taught of impending sorrow.

George had no animal companion.
He preferred to be alone.
No one to care for.
No one to care for him.

He spent his days creating,
A stockpile of witticisms
to share at arms length.
Not wishing for fame, not prideful.

So now we lay dear George to rest.
His mouth silent forever.
So many secrets kept within.
So many lies untold.

Our beloved George is NoMan,
   for the nonce - he is but a fucking ghost.

Requiescat in Pace

©Ellen Pepper 2025

Who Dares Wins

 

Who Dares Wins

Qui audet adipiscitur

 by Ellen Pepper

 

Spring rain pounding on a slanted roof.

Wind causing walls to strain against it.

Water pooling on the kitchen floor -

The window left open to welcome it.

 

A peculiar man with pecuniary slant

Determines his nut for the night.

A candle burns low on the wooden table.

His hat nearby on a rough-hewn chair.

 

An apron-clad woman ladles stew

into crockery as old and cracked

as her face.

Places it gently near the man

and leaves the room.

 

Tonight, he must break free.

He must pack swiftly and depart.

He must somehow earn fare,

And board the last train for Marseille.

 

His Alsatian waits at the door.

Does not want to be left behind.

He will remain with the woman.

The man may not return this time.

 

Now, spying under the window

of his wealthy neighbour,

the man has a plan.

 

Seeing the family within bickering, squabbling,

He knocks at the door.

“Hello, my neighbours! How goes your night?

I’ve come to bring peace for a small fee.”

 

Invited in, he sits near the fire.

The master of the house waits patiently.

 

“I see there’s a point of contention tonight.

I can easily determine who is wrong

and who is right,

if you would only

Give me one thread to unravel this .”

 

The family confer.

One voice speaks, then another.

Then all speak at once. Cacophony results.

The mystical man begins to sing a lullaby.

 

As minutes pass, the shouting dissipates.

“The issue is resolved, to my delight.

It’s plain to see the Master is in the right.

He knows the ways of the world and

wants only the best for his clan.”

 

“And now, forsooth, I must be off.

I’ve a train to catch and I’ll need the fare.”

The fee presented and he’s at the door.

“Thank you good sir, you’re noble, I swear.”

 

The peculiar man takes his leave.

“Qui audet adipiscitur.”

 

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Je ne regrette pas

 

 Je ne regrette pas

by Ellen Pepper


Do not regret the loss of winter.
It splayed itself across the landscape for a time.
That icy stillness swathed in snowflakes
Had its moments, its fine apparel.

Do not regret the fleeting passage of time.
At once speedy or sluggish,
depending on perspective.
But passing just the same.

Do not regret encounters with the brave and bold.
Nor those with terrors and too craven
to save themselves.
The many issues they present, so little time in hold.

Do not regret dancing alone in the dark
under the maple tree.
Nobody saw you. Nobody knows.
Do it again - touch the bark.

After all, what is regret?
Loss and sorrow are in the mind.
Some say also in the heart but...
Evading the big "what if?" skips past regret.

I do not regret.
 Je ne regrette pas.
I witness the moments,
Je suis témoin des moments,
Sort them into memories,
Triez-les en souvenirs,
And continue strolling through.
Et continuez à flâner. 

Insouciant.

 

 ©Ellen Pepper 2025

Tick Tick Tock

by Ellen Pepper

Tick tick tick...

A drunken worker laughingly claims that he's ok
as he drives his machine into a ditch.
Dismounts and topples over into the muck.
Nobody recorded it. It won't go viral.

Tick tock tick.

Leaves are unfurling all around.
Birds are nesting.
Animals breed.
The greening ground is slick with rain.

Tick tick tick

A women on a treadmill feels pain,
Chest, neck, jaw.
Wonders if the heart is attacking.
Decides it's too complicated
to ask for help.

Tick tick tock

An old man still abed at noon.
No movement or sound.
No snore or audible breath.
Suddenly, a foot shifts.
He's still alive.

Tick tick tock.

Time is not like a river.
Time is a collected series of events.
Vignettes.
What was once... and will never be again.


 ©Ellen Pepper 2025

Your Boots

Your Boots

by Ellen Pepper

Put your boots under my table.
Let us feast on groats and wine.
Some cherries and a roasted beast.
Hours of reminiscences and fables, secrets and lies.
The fireplace alive with crackling and flickering flames.
The old shaggy dog at your feet,
alert to your surreptitious shares.

And your songs. The soundtrack of our lives.
You play your guitar and we harmonize.
From the pining of adolescence to the pains of parenthood.
The mellowing of passing years and the ultimate decrepitude.

Now the young ones stoke the fire,
prepare and serve the feast.
They hear the epic tales,
They'll pass them on in turn.

We sit and nod in rocking chairs near the fire now.
The ancient dog beside your boots, basking in the warm.
These creaking bones call time on the night.
There's hope that when tomorrow comes
we'll still be here.
 Together.

©Ellen Pepper 2025

Avoiding Mirrors

 

 

 

 

 

 

Avoiding Mirrors

by Ellen Pepper

Forgive the human inside your bubble of self.
You had no way to see how powerful your death stare was,
Until, of course, it slayed its victims.
You didn't mean to cause harm.
It was merely collateral damage.

When looking into a mirror, you are endangered.
You can also destroy yourself with that harsh judging glance.
Nobody is immune.

You raconteur.
You charmer.
You magician.
You inventor, creator of worlds.

You bring in the adoring crowds.
They want to be close,
to absorb and reflect your charisma.
Your left-handed wit enthralls them.
It's a fine snack.

They'll never be invited to a feast, though.
Only crumbs from the bountiful table at which you dine alone,
Smug and self-satisfied.
You have what you need and can always get more.
There is a world of opportunity waiting for you.

Who wouldn't envy your grace and charm?
Who wouldn't yearn to be your Favoured One?
Who do you see when you look into that mirror?
An angel, a demon, or... a human?

There are some who walk alone because they must.
There are some who walk alone because they trust
that they're better off being a human alone
 inside their sphere of safety
than to suffer the sling and arrows of intolerable fortune.
It's easier to forgive yourself when nothing more can harm you.

You're safe now
And at peace.
Enjoy yourself
It's sooner than you think.

©Ellen Pepper 2025

On Being Ghosted

by Ellen Pepper

Ghosted means
that silence becomes incandescent.

Ghosted shows
 the hand print on the window
where you stood searching
for someone who isn't there anymore.

Ghosted sounds
like the phone that will never ring
that one distinctive tone
ever again.

Ghosted reminds of
an intricate web of memories
that won't increase.

Ghosted feels
like being shriven,
but never forgiven.

Ghosted means
judgment has been rendered -
 you're deemed to be
disposable.

Ghosted is
the echo of a door
being slammed shut
repeatedly.

Ghosted means
there'll be no grave to stand at
to meditate on the loss.

Ghosted means
that you never really mattered.
There's no discussion. No mercy.
No regret.

Ghosted means
that you never have to say goodbye.

Ghosted means
that you never have to say
I'm sorry.

©Ellen Pepper

CENTER OF ATTENTION

by Ellen Pepper

Fred was a well-known and lauded member of the acting profession. Fellow thespians were in awe of his ability to enthrall audiences by embodying each character he portrayed on stage to the point that his own persona disappeared.

Fred had an overwhelming secret, though. A secret shared with no one -  
incapacitating stage fright. He hid it well. No one could tell that he felt paralyzed inside, his mouth too dry to swallow. Frozen like a statue with fear. Not wanting to be looked at. Not wanting to be seen. Terror.

It wasn't until he heard his cue to go on that his body would relax back into a normal human form. His grace returned on stage. He enthralled the audience with no apparent effort. He was the center of attention.

Fred decided that he wanted to be rid of this disabling feeling. He wanted to approach each performance with the same cavalier insouciance that he'd seen others exhibit before a show.
Therefore, he took himself to a therapist.

While in the waiting room that was used by several therapists to hold their incoming clients, he saw that a man sitting across from him was not doing well. He was hyperventilating and red-faced and sweating and groaning.

Fred leaned forward and asked, "Do you need medical attention? You don't seem to be well."

The man didn't look in his direction, just continued to give the appearance of someone about to have a medical crisis.

None of the others in the room looked at either of them. Fred found this to be unsettling.

 Fred asked the man again, this time a bit louder.

Suddenly, a door across the hall was abruptly opened and a shrew-faced woman, a therapist,  entered the waiting room and shushed Fred. A loud and harsh shush, at that. A rather rude shush.

Fred said, "This man needs to be seen by a doctor, he's in distress."

The woman snapped out, "You will not speak to anyone other than your therapist while on these premises."

Fred: "On the contrary, I will speak when someone appears to be in need of medical attention."

Therapist: "Silence yourself."

Fred, becoming annoyed and somewhat frightened, stood up and said, "Ok, time for me to leave." He headed toward the exit.

Therapist: "You have a session scheduled. You will not leave."

Fred, with determination, replied: "I've changed my mind. Some who call themselves therapists are far too damaged to be of benefit to anyone in need. I'm already broken enough, lady."

As Fred walked up Madison Ave on his way to Broadway, in the sunlight that was blinding after the dimly lit waiting room, the disconcerting silence of the clients there, their seeming lack of empathy, caused a shifting in his subconscious.
A memory rose up. A most important memory.
----------------------------
Fred was 5 years old. He was larking about with several other military brats while their mothers sat outside with them, enjoying a coffee klatch. It was a blazingly sunny, sweltering August afternoon. Fred was giddy with delight. He was the life of the party. Fred was laughing boisterously and racing around.

Fred was attracting comments from the mothers. They were telling his mum that he was very charming. His mother was not pleased or amused. Fred was taking the attention away from her carefully manicured appearance. She was there to create envy and her son was interfering with that plan.

She called Fred over to her. He could tell by her tone of voice that she was not pleased with him. He was accustomed to this.

As soon as he was near enough, she grabbed him roughly and stripped off all of his clothes, leaving him standing naked in front of everyone he knew.
"How do you like being the center of attention now, Mr. Show Off?!," she spat out with undisguised venom.

Silence descended. Fred stood there alone, exposed, the sun beating down on his vulnerable flesh. He clenched his teeth and fists. He closed his eyes. He became immobile, as if in a tableau.

The other mothers weren't certain whether or not this was a disturbing attempt at a joke or a misguided disciplinary action... but the boy had done no wrong.
One mother gave a small chuckle. Another tried to giggle but it fell flat.

Then all the mothers stood one after another and, without a word, took their children by the hand to return to their own homes.

Still Fred stood there - a frozen-hearted 5 year old statue who was once a happy-go-lucky boy.
His mother had gone inside to smoke her cigarettes and drink her beer.
------------
In remembering that incident, he was freed. Knowing when and where and why the fear began was the key that opened the door to being his own true self. The blight was removed from his soul and he began to walk a new path.

Fred had found Enlightenment on the way to an afternoon matinee. 

Smiling, he whispered, "It's show time, folks."

©Ellen Pepper 2024

THE LAW OF UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES

 THE LAW of UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES

 by Ellen Pepper

 

The other night, I found myself dreaming that I was one amongst a numberless throng. 

All were zombie-walking, empty-eyed. 

 

I stopped a One who seemed less programmed and asked why so many walked the same path, as if carried along by inertia.

 

He replied that they didn't break formation because they feared invoking the Law of Unintended Consequences and thereby setting the world up for chaos and mayhem, somewhat like the fabled wings of a butterfly flapping over the Pacific and causing a hurricane to result in the Atlantic.

 

We sat ourselves down on a convenient bench while I digested this information.

"Listen, One," I said, "Why has no One considered the possibility that changing programs in the middle of a stream might, instead, have a beneficial effect on the world?"

 

One thought for a few cut-glass moments, and then replied, "We are not programmed to think that good outcomes could be possible. Therefore, we cling to the known, which is obedience and conformity as ascertained by the Masters of the Program. It's just safer for all of us and we want to be safe. We need to be safe. The only safety is in walking in the groove made for us by those who have trod it before us."

 

"I see," said I, sadly. A moment passed. 

Then I stood in front of One, and asked him to sing a song for me. He balked, saying that it was not on his List of Things To Do Today and might rend the very fabric of the Universe with a mighty roar, enveloping the Solar System in the Rubbish of a Thousand Magnitudes. 

 

I countered with, "Or, on the other hand, blessings may result, benefics are also the outcome of breaking the Law of Unintended Consequences. Just so you know."

One nodded, considering the possibilities. 

 

"What should I sing?" he rather faintly inquired.

 

"Get Happy," I suggested. "Judy Garland sang it in a film called "Summer Stock". The lyrics start like this:

Forget your troubles
Come on get happy
You better chase all your cares away
Shout hallelujah
Come on get happy
Get ready for the judgment day

 

One stood with trepidation. "Can you hum a few bars to start me?" he asked.

I did. He sang. 

A few of the many stopped striding forward and listened.  

Some of the many saw the few and halted to hear.  

Soon, a One here and a One there started humming. 

Then several also joined. 

And then, in One fell swoosh, a full-throated thousand joined in the singing. 

Some began to dance.

 Some dropped briefcases and smiled. 

They smiled. They hadn't smiled in a hundred thousand years, it seemed.

 

The sun came out from behind the clouds. The Many dashed away from the city and ran into the greenery of the forest that too few had taken the time to visit in the grey and dismal past.

There was a palpable joy.

 

I took the One by the hand and suggested that, in future, more songs should be sung and many more dances should be enjoyed because the Law of Unintended Consequences could free as well as enchain by fear.

©Ellen Pepper 2024