Kale’s Cookie Jar

It was around noon when Kale realised there was something missing from his cookie jar. His cookie jar was in fact a real life replica of Pooh Bear’s honey pot; Grandmama had gifted it to him after she had gone to Disneyland and had forgotten to take him along. So there it was, Kale’s Pooh Bear honey pot, now cookie jar, in his arms, who had fallen victim to a heinous crime.

In his mind, Kale couldn’t comprehend who in their right mind would do such a thing. Kale replayed the possible scenario in his head: hushed footsteps; a head carefully tilting, checking the surroundings; a grubby hand reaches for the honey pot-cookie jar’s head; the other takes the goods from within; the head is replaced. Yes, a meticulously thought out plan was needed for such a task, Kale thought. But in the next moments Kale smiled to himself and announced, “What a grand plan, indeed!”

The minutes and hours seemed to disintegrate as he stood there, stock-still.

A thunderous thud sounded above his head. Strike back operation had commenced. And Kale seemed to finish an invisible conversation out loud, “Of course, the last one left is a bad cookie.”

Kale held onto his cookie jar, like a hand grenade, just as he did before. Five minutes had passed since he had found out about the great crime. Those five minutes had given him all he had wanted to know. 


Hi everyone!

I hope you can appreciate that this piece of prose isn’t in its final form yet – it is currently a first draft for my prose submission for later on. So there may be parts where you don’t fully understand what’s going on (especially towards the end). 

Just a quick update as well: I finally handed in my long Odyssey essay yesterday! I feel very relieved that now I don’t need to look at it anymore. I think I deserve a day of rest before proceeding with more work/reading. Also, it was my birthday on the 25th, so I’m 19 now. It feels strange to know that next year I’ll hit the big 20 and will have no choice but to be an adult.

Anyways – all the same, hope you enjoyed reading this post!

See you soon! x

A Star

The closest ones are the furthest.

Yes, I talk about stars –

though I know nothing of astronomy 

or space science. 

Though I may not know it,

I may be the furthest away

from this Earth right now. 

Or I wish to be the furthest star from here,

because Earth is too lonely a place

and I’d much rather find real solitude,  

 

and seclude, myself.

 

Midnight’s Garden

Racing under the Moon’s shadow

while owls whisper to the leaves,

and Midnight’s rabbits work work work


Nature’s garden weeps,

from time to time and time again:

whispering to her darlings

grow, grow, grow…


Then the magical beans prosper

and defend their mighty ground

where the rabbits and owls can lie peacefully.


You can hear Midnight’s garden

breathe.

Souls converging to one:

beat, beat, beat