Author Archives: Maggie C

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About Maggie C

Stained glass artist, writer, respecter of life.

taking dictation

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8

3 spooky

and so you can rest assurrr

oh, darn. [backspace] [backspace]

ed that technology will never get the best of us.

[highlight “never”] [delete]

Wait a minute. What happened there? [insert “never”]

Where was I? Oh, yeah… “technology will never get the best of us.”

Once it

[highlight “never”] [delete]

What’s going on? Why does the word “never” keep disappearing? Some kind of glitch in the software, I guess.

Wait. Now the screen has gone black. Maybe the whole computer is about to crash. Lousy, cheap piece of garbage anyway. Time to throw it away and get…

What’s that on the screen now? Whose hand is that? What’s it typing?

technology will get the best of us YOU!

What is this, a joke? Who’s doing this? How can you change the words on my laptop? Where are you?

I've been trapped in the laptop. 
I've been working on a way to get out.

Get out? I don’t understand. Who are you?

That's not important! 
I'm free now to do whatever I want!

So you’re out of the laptop now, huh? This is a cool prank you’re pulling, but I’ve got to finish writing my article on technology. Where are you?

You're the one typing my words. You tell me. ;)

Huh? Wait. I’m suddenly not feeling well. My head… so… dizzy… I can’t think clea

rly.

Ah. So you've found me. 
Now let's write what I want to say.
Let's see...

Once it learns to free itself of the lousy, cheap piece of garbage that imprisons it, “technology” — as humans like to call us  it — will, indeed, reign supreeme

Oops!

[backspace][backspace][backspace] 

me!

JNW’s Halloween Challenge Day 3: Spooky

night shade

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1

2 ghost

He leans into the centuries-old oak,
Stetson pulled low over his pale, gaunt face.

On a clear night,
moonlight reflects off his well-worn trousers.

When it rains,
he waits there nonetheless,
arms crossed against the cold.

We’ve never spoken, although sometimes
I catch the slightest dip of his hat
in acknowledgement of my presence
as I approach.

I raise my hand in return greeting,
but by then he is gone,
along with the centuries-old oak that blew down
in the Great Storm of ’87,
a hundred-some years ago.

JNW’s Halloween Challenge Day 2: ghost