I have been trying to think of how to use this prompt. I could write a poem about Alice. I could try and list all of the Alice’s I know of. I could write a story of Alice or talk about how much I love Alice in Wonderland. So I will do a little of each…..
Alice is a lady who lives right up the street
Every time I’m walking she smiles when we meet.
She has a little puppy, whose name is Baby Blue
He is so cute and fuzzy, you can’t help what you do.
You have to touch and hold him, cuddle him right up
Take him home, bath him good, and call him your new pup.
Alice in Wonderland Alice the waitress in that diner (can’t recall the show) Alice on the Brady Bunch Alice, the lady I used to cook pies for ***not a very long list***
Once upon a time there was a woman named Alice. She was a chubby woman because she loved to bake and eat all the goodies herself. One day a nice family moved in the house across the street from Alice. She knew right away that she would bake them something nice to welcome them to their new home. First, she baked chocolate chip cookies, but you cannot really give someone only two or three cookies as a welcome gift, especially when there are at least four people in the family. Next, she baked a sweet peach pie. She could not bring that over because by the time she was done there were no peaches left in the sweet crust. Knowing she had to do something, she thought and thought about what she could bake that would be enough to bring over. Alice took out all her pots and pans, her flour and sugar, rolling pin, electric mixer, and all the other ingredients she was going to need. She worked and worked to get the recipe exactly right. Finally, she had her baked goods for the new neighbors. She had made peanut butter cookies! What was different about these you ask? Well, she was allergic to peanuts. She figured she would have to make something she really could not eat. Problem solved and new neighbors are happy to meet Alice.
Devon knew the history of the stone sculpture, but he wasn’t sure he trusted the tale. Back in the day there was the belief that in winter, when the ice thaws, the water that falls from the sides of the rock was infused with gold. The story was nice but if the tale were true then the ink upon the rice paper which is laid under the flow would also turn gold. That has never happened, at least in his lifetime.
Once upon a time there was a woman who the townsfolk called a Mythomane, penned Mythy for short, as she was known for her outrageous stories. It was so well known that she even called herself Mythy. Well it was a new morning and Mythy knew she would have to spend the day picking the most perfectstrawberries for her well-known jam. She would make a batch, load it in her wide wagon, and swivel through the busy streets selling her product.
Mythy set out this morning to get her berries. She left the front door and started walking down the walkway, as if she were a model on a runway. She used the lightest steps, so as not to hurt any insects crawling along in their little clusters. Within moments Mythy was at her strawberry patch where the lighteststrawberries, perfect in shape and size, grew. After a few hours of picking Mythy felt like her day had been cheated by busy work. Euchred, she sat down amongst her prize strawberries and cried. She knew she would never complete her jam today.
Before he even knew how to write his own name he knew he wanted to be a detective. He loved finding things and would help his mom and dad when they said they lost things. When he turned five his grandma bought him his own magnifying glass and special hat, so that he looked like this famous detective his dad told him about, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. He didn’t really know much about Mr. Sherlock but he did know he was a great detective. When he turned six his dad bought him his own fingerprint detecting kit with a real brush and special powder to find hidden fingerprints. It wasn’t until he turned eight that he realized he was missing something. He didn’t know exactly what, but he figured if he read enough detective stories he would be able to solve his own mystery. So he started reading and kept reading, always looking for that “thing” that would make him a true detective.
Well this continued throughout his adolescent years and even into his teenage years, even though he never shared this secret with anyone. He didn’t want people to know that he would be a famous detective someday, that would blow his cover. So for now, as a teen, he kept reading and continued to search for what he felt was missing from his dream. It wasn’t until the day of his high school graduation that he realized what he had been looking for all these years. It was his ticket to adulthood, his free pass to success, his voucher for a future; college.
Have you ever gone down to the basement to get something out of the chest freezer? Just a small snack. You pull the chain light and take one step back up to the first floor when all of a sudden fear explodes, you feel like you are being hunted, you run like hell up the stairs, hitting your shin on one tread, not caring because you are about to die! Then you get to the top of the stairs and turn to shut off the light. Breathing hard. Shaking a little, still. Looking for the ghost who spooked you. It could have been a serial killer! Who is to say you weren’t just taking your last snack? Trying to convince yourself you are alright. You were fine the whole time, right?