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Extracts FROM The Tree at Marble Lane

Prose by Ardan Michael Blum (For Adults Only)
 a collection of short stories to combat undignified middle-age. 

“One”

I wanted my zoo of stuffed animals to climb the majestic pine cone rose-leaf willow.

The animals started to climb; up past crow perch 1, along squirrel highway 3, (then) left, past a long grown up boy’s tree-house and rotting wood. Up high they sunbathed and waved at angels.

Three friendly angels took them to eat honey-burgers in heaven.

Lunch for 10 stuffed animals in heaven was almost over.

————–

SLEEPING: I Rushed to the tree, climbed up and fell with a thud from 75 feet. 

NEXT: I got to have desert with various animals.

————–

AWAKE: Today my future friends are being stuffed.  

The tree is not yet planted.

I must wait. 

Rebirth is certain.  

By 1910

They were playing a tune in a far away bistro. The kind of place trains in 1836 would halt here and get passengers to visit the large hall for steaks and beer. No one came anymore.

One room school house

She was a sinner. The book told us our teacher would burn in Hell. The teacher was blind. So she was blind and would go to Hell. But no one dared tell her to stop. Sex education came at a price. The book was then published in braille, but it was too late.

Memorial

Constant was getting his news. It was breakfast time, he sat back and tuned in to the BBC World Service and heard that so and so had died and he cried.

Who comes to the bench?

Shelly, Byron, Pushkin and Yeats.

Rain clouds and mosquitoes for 500 years.

Then … Purchase this bench and put it in a glass frame.

Make it a prisoner’s compartment with regulated oxygen flow and have man

in frame on bench shipped to space.

Off it floats. No one will know more.

 

  Heaven Sent

Women are the greatest creations. Then come Dachshunds.

Eternity should include both, I hope! 

 Ardan Michael Blum has written short fiction prose since 2000. He lives in Palo Alto, California.

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