Set Ten:
A Photograph
A PoemThe bird did pause within the tree,
and for a time it was there still, for a short time as one could see, the bird did pause within the tree. And there the bird did choose to be, and made this choice with its own will, the bird did pause within the tree, and for a time it was there still. 
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An Artwork
A Short StoryMigration
He had never questioned before, why he left. He always left. Every year. Right before the end of a certain month. It wasn't just him though, they all left. Every one of them. In groups, they would get together and make the trip. It was just normal. They all went. But why, he asked himself, was there even a good reason? Sure, where he was going was nice – but then again, he always left there too. Again, before the end of a different month, he would leave. So would everyone else. They would get together, and go back to the place, they left before. They all did it. But there he sat, just resting, just taking a break, and looking up, into the sky, at the white clouds, he wondered, why was he leaving? Why was he going through the cycle? Was this all just habit? Was it just because of the group? He had heard the logic. Sure, he was told. They said to him, "Don't stay. Things won't be that nice. You should leave." He had never stayed though. He had always left. How did he really know? Maybe things were nice. But sitting there, just resting, just taking a break, he thought to himself, if he should really be questioning it. What if he stayed? What if they were right? Was he just questioning the idea, because he was worried he was doing something without thinking? Maybe leaving was the best thing. As he was sitting, he looked up, and there he saw some of them traveling. A whole group. All leaving. Would he be wise if he stayed? Or were they wise because they were leaving? Somewhere, he thought, in the philosophical, there was the practical. Leaving was not hard. Where he was going was nice. His friends would be there. This worked. If he tried to be different, for its own sake, maybe things wouldn't work. He might regret it. And so, through all this, he resolved, that what was working, was working. He would leave. As soon his bus arrived, he would carry his suitcase on, and go to the airport. He would meet his group, and this fall, like last, he would go to Florida. 
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Set Nine:
A Photograph
A PoemUpon the tree,
as still as it could be, the aliens waited inside the spaceship. 
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An Artwork
A Short StoryThe ship and the creatures
"What do you think is happening outside?" She asked. "I don't know. We've been here for hours and nothing has happened," he said. "Why don't they open the hatch, so we can go outside?" She asked. "They said they would when the sensors were clear. Something must be out there," he answered. The group of twenty waited, some armed and some carrying equipment, while five others were in the control center. "Do you think they have any idea what we are?" He asked. "I'm not sure. They keep investigating, but I don't know why. All of our cameras are blocked and none have come by the view port here since we landed. They must be interested in something. The sensors are picking them up moving around and gathering in groups." "Why don't we try to move the cameras or the ship or fire to scare them off?" "We don't want them to know what we are. Right now, we are a curiosity to them. If we remain still, they may tire and leave. If we move though, it will encourage them." "The crew has been ready to depart since shortly after we landed, should we tell them to go back to their quarters?" "No, I want them to stay ready. If something goes wrong and we either have to fly off or leave the ship, they are the most ready they will be as they are. I don't want them to relax and cause a potential delay or mistake." On the tree, one of the creatures climbed. It met a group that was gathered in a crook of a branch. Below and to the other side, there were two other groups. They twitched and clicked and scurried around in circles. At intervals, some would climb from the group they were in, circle about the ship and touch one of its multi-purpose arms and then back away. The ship started to shake and bounce and crash. Inside the control center, she pressed the button to the far left. Red lights went on and an alarm sounded. The crew inside fell about and tried to grab onto things that were secured to the ship. "Be on alert!" The captain said into a microphone. The ship lifted and fell and then lifted and fell again. "They are trying to push us off of the tree!" The ship bounced again and then again, each time lifting and falling farther. Then the ship lifted and began to tilt. The crew fell back against the rear entry of the departure area and the hatch above. "Our landing legs are latched on in the rear, but they have lifted them from the front. They are going to push us off!" Wood cracked, and then the crew fell against the hatch door. The ship tumbled in the air and the crew and their equipment flew about inside. Inside the control center, strapped to his chair, a lieutenant leaned forward and tried to turn a handle. Everything spun as the ship fell. Branches broke and with loud crashes, parts of the ship started to cave in. On the left side, the arms broke off, and on the right side, they were pressed against the ship. The lieutenant grabbed onto the edge of the control panel, and pulled forward and grabbed the handle. He closed his eyes, felt it in his hand as he spun, and turned it to the left. While still holding on, he moved his other hand forward until he felt another handle. The equipment inside the departure area smashed against the walls and broke into pieces. Some of the crew were holding onto benches and to handles on the doors, but the rest tumbled and crashed around. The lieutenant pulled the handle toward himself. The ship jolted, and the spinning stopped. The crew in the control center were pressed into their chairs and the crew in the departure area were pressed against its rear doors. The captain reached forward and pulled back on the handles in front of her. The ship tilted and began to fly straight up. Through the cracked view port, she looked as limbs smashed into the ship. Then, she saw the hue of purple, and pushed the handles forward. The ship leveled. The captain pressed a blue button and the ship slowed. The captain took a breath. She unlatched herself from her chair and leaned toward the glass. In one part without a crack, she looked out. She saw an orange beach by a yellow sea. She sat back down and pushed the handles forward. The ship slowly flew. The captain stood again and looked through the glass. She pressed the handles forward twice and stood and looked. She sat back down, turned three switches on her right and pressed a button on her left. The ship creaked and smoke flew out from it. Then it slowly lowered and touched the ground. "This is a Code Four," the captain said out of breath. "Implement," and she took a breath, "the crash protocols." The captain then pressed two buttons at the same time. There was movement in the departure area of the ship, and the hatch opened. The crew looked and saw the purple sky above them. 
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Set Eight:
A Photograph
A PoemWith sunshine above,
the small flower blossoms bloom, upon the green stems, and there is hopefulness that, planets will orbit the sun. 
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An Artwork
A Short StoryAn evening in the garden
Out in the garden, he looked up at the sky. Beside him, she looked through the telescope. "Do you see the red one?" "I see something small and blurry. It could be red?" "Adjust the knob, it should be clearer." She turned the knob away from herself and then toward herself. "Oh yeah," she said, "I see it. It looks like a little moon." "I'm not sure, but I think it's a lot bigger." "So where's the other one?" "Wait," he said, "shouldn't you be feeling something profound. You're looking at another planet. Isn't this supposed to be deep?" "Yes," she said, and pretended to swoon, "I'm overwhelmed with emotion." She then pretended to faint with a sigh. "Ha," he said. "Alright, my overwhelmed-ness is over, so where's the other one?" "You can only see it in the morning, I think." "That makes no sense. Aren't I supposed to see planets at night?" "Something about orbits, and things like that. You can see it in the morning." "So what happens now? Should I continue being overwhelmed?" She said with a completely unemotional expression. "You know, the tomatoes are laughing at your jokes. They find you hilarious." "They're blooming with laughter." "I think they're going to die. You just sprinkled them with lame-a-cide." "Okay, I'll look at the silly planet again." She looked through the telescope and said as she watched. "It's small. It has little craters … oh look, aliens!" "Are they small and green?" "No, they are large and yellow … oh wait, they're holding a sign … what does it say, I think I can read it … 'Jane's jokes are funny!' Wow, that's amazing, they could hear me from there." "Probably radio telescopes or something. I'm sure though that your jokes were mistranslated. Thanks to bad software, you're a hit on Mars." "Don't forget here in the garden. The tomatoes are still laughing." She looked back through the telescope and asked, "Is there a way to take a picture of this amazing thing?" "I'm right here, you can take a picture of me any time," he answered. "You're right, you must be amazing. You have me standing outside, surrounded by tomatoes, looking a tiny floating red rock, at night. You are astounding." "I'm glad you realize these things. You know, there are other planets up there too." "I couldn't handle it." "There are stars and comets too." "Please, I couldn't take it." She stared through the telescope. "So, there's this tiny rock, floating in the sky. What does it do?" "What do you mean?" "It just floats?" "It's a planet, do you want it to build you something?" "Yes," she said, "I'd like a three bedroom house, with a deck, and a pool. No, you strange fool, shouldn't it do something. Where are the volcanoes, or giant storms or something?" She adjusted the telescope again and said, "It's just floating, looking like a little moon." "On behalf of the large yellow aliens of Mars, I apologize that their planet isn't active enough for you." "They really should be sorry. How do they expect to attract tourists? I mean, a floating rock is overwhelming," and she pretended to faint again, "but, you know, it doesn't last." "You could visit. You could tour around. You know, 'The Jane Comedy Show!' The place would be flooded with people." "Yes, but I would be so amazing, that there would be billions of people there, and it would weigh too much, and the whole floating rock thing would be ruined because they would weigh it down. I can't take away the core attraction of the place." "That is right, I hadn't considered that." "I'm just smarter than you." She looked back through the telescope and then said, "So what about these tomatoes. When do they become food?" He thought for a moment and then said, "I have to tell you the truth. I didn't bring you out here to look at Mars. The tomatoes weren't doing well, and I heard if you talk to plants they grow better. I figured with you out here, I'd win one of those county fair giant fruit prizes." "You know," she said as she sneered at him, "I'm glad I have this telescope. The tiny red rock that does nothing, is a million times better than you." "You mean, I don't overwhelm you," he said as he pretended to faint. "No, but you've made the tomatoes turn green." 
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Set Seven:
A Photograph
A PoemUpon the ground,
beneath the trees, a feather lay so still, it fell on down, form a bird's flight, as if it had a will. With colors black, and colors blue, it shown right on the ground, and in the light, from the blue sky, the small feather was found. The bird it flew, so far away, and it was never seen, but it was known, from the feather, as eyes did look and glean. 
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An Artwork
A Short StoryThe letter
He sat down to write the letter. He dipped the quill into the ink well, held it in the air for a moment, and then rested his hand on the paper. He sat still, with the closed window before him, and the candle light beside him. He felt the wood of his chair underneath him, and the wood of the desk he was at. He paused, and looked at the quill in his hand. He held it in the light, and spun it around. It seemed so light and fragile. The black on one side, the blue on the other and the white at the end. He could almost see the bird in the sky flying, the feather falling, and it landing on a forest floor. He wondered about who collected quills, and why, for some reason, should he pay more for one from a wild bird, than for one from one that was raised. He held the quill up and looked at it. His eyes shifted focus and he saw the shutters of the window before him. He looked back down at the paper, and moved his hand to write: Dear He stopped again. He could still hear the scratch of the quill on the paper. He tried to think about what he wanted to say. Although he could not actually think of the words, any inclination he had seemed failing. Nothing was sufficient. Dear Julia, He paused again. He wondered if should have put her last name. He looked over the paper. He imagined it folded into thirds, placed in an envelope with something else, and sealed. He dipped his quill back in the ink. He looked at the quill again in the light, and thought of two weeks before. He thought about the carriage stopping. It seemed so black outside. He saw her next to himself, as she took off her white glove, and pulled the blue ring off of her finger. She put it in his hand, and turned and left. Dear Julia, I am not certain He stopped again. He wondered at his formality. Years of writing business letters had seeped into his hand. It seemed to flow out from the end of the quill. Dear Julia, I am not certain, but I feel things have gone wrong. "Was this right?" He thought inside. He felt the need to shout, to say what his feeling was, but it didn't feel right. Inside himself, he wanted to write pages, have an explanation, and cover everything from every side, so that she would understand. Dear Julia, I am not certain, but I feel things have gone wrong. Therefore, I am returning this to you. It felt empty. The short two sentences. Dear Julia, I am not certain, but I feel things have gone wrong. Therefore, I am returning this to you. Sincerely, The word was right. Sincerely? It was true, but, like everything else, insufficient. Dear Julia, I am not certain, but I feel things have gone wrong. Therefore, I am returning this to you. Sincerely. It ended there. No comma of continuation. A period. A name didn't matter. The obvious seemed wrong. He sat and looked at the inkwell, quill and paper. He held the paper in his hand and then crumpled it, and threw it into a basket. He reached into his pocket, placed the ring in the envelope on his desk, scratched the address on it, and sealed it with wax from the candle. He called out a name. A man walked in the room and said questioningly, "Sir?" "Take this away and send it." "Yes sir." And the man left the room. He sat with the quill in his hand and then dropped it on the desk, pushed away from it, and paced around the room. After two turns, he sat in a chair, leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Then he leaned back and sighed. 
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Set Six:
A Photograph
A PoemThe small frog was still in the tree,
in a place where the birds couldn't see, with its color it blended in, and in the tree it hid within, and was there still, rather than flee. The plant was of citrus and not of tea, and the frog hid where the birds wouldn't be, the place was quiet and without din, the small frog was still. Where the frog hid, was in the lee, alone in a place, with no mite or flea, its color seemed brown mixed in with tin, it hid in the tree as though in a bin, and the frog didn't jump or move its knee, the small frog was still. 
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An Artwork
A Short StoryThe frog
The frog jumped from the grass, and flew into the air. Behind it, the red bird flew down, as its claws scraped the blades of grass where the frog had been. The frog landed a few feet away, and then into the air again, it jumped. As the frog floated in the air, at the peak of its jump, it looked out and saw a citrus tree before it. The leaves were in a mass and the branches were tangled together. As it fell back to the ground, the bird dived by, bumping the frog with its chest. The frog tumbled, and spun, and fell to the ground, surrounded by the grass. The red bird continued with its flight, and flew up and perched in an oak tree branch. It leaned forward, looking and almost falling from it. Inside itself, as the frog turned itself over, its heart beat and its body shook. Before pausing long enough to feel still, it pressed on the ground with its back legs, and flew into the air. From above, the bird fell from the tree, like a comet from the sky, and opened its beak as it flew toward its prey. The frog was in the air, in an arc defined by physics, and could do nothing to change its path. The bird came close, and with one of its wings, scrapped the dark green leaves of the tree, as the frog flew into them. While still in the air, the bird spun around, and fluttered into the tree. The arc of the frog ended on a thin green branch. It wrapped its arms and legs around it, pulled itself to the top and leapt again. The flutter and squawk of the bird followed behind it, as the frog went from branch to branch looking for a place that was closed in. With its last jump, it went through a hole of leaves and thorns, and landed on the trunk of the tree. It then stayed still, except for its up and down movement because of its beating heart. Around it, red flashed, leaves fluttered, and the tree shook. The frog pressed its body down, as it blended away. Red flashed more, leaves fluttered again, and then the tree became still. The frog felt its heart slow, and did not move. The stillness continued. The small frog stayed still. Then the tree shook three times and was then still again. The small frog still stayed still. Above, the sun moved across its arc in the sky, and when it did, the red bird flew up and away. Beneath it, in the tree, and finally calm, the small frog stayed still. 
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Set Five:
A Photograph
A PoemThe lion roared,
and the dandelion seeds, blew in the wind 
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An Artwork
A Short StoryThe lion hunts
The lion laid still on a plateau watching. The ground was light brown, and covered with flowers. In the distance, against a hill, a giraffe stood. To another side, in a valley below, two bears were looking at the earth. To the other side, on a large flat mountain top, a small deer laid down. The lion thought, looking over the flowers, which he should go after: the giraffe, one of the bears or the deer. He decided on the giraffe. The wind blew, and as though the clouds had shifted, there was more light on the land. The lion, as if he was moved, went slowly across the plateau. Across its length, were two crevasses. At the first one he stopped, and peered in the distance. The giraffe stood still. He looked behind, and saw as the deer moved farther away. Below him, the bears seemed to be grazing in the valley. The lion then moved again. He went over a small hill on the plateau and to the next crevasse. He saw as the giraffe stood still. Then, as if it was being moved, the giraffe turned its head and looked out over the plateau. The lion tried to lay still, but it seemed as if the giraffe saw its breathing. The giraffe paused, and then darted to the edge of the plateau. The lion bolted, and chased after it. In the distance, the deer, who had been watching the lion, seemed to leap over the valley, and moved like it flew, to a mountain in the distance. The giraffe leapt down from the plateau, and went into the valley, it looked to either side, as the lion jumped down and came behind it. The giraffe turned, and ran toward the bears. It ran straight in their direction as the lion followed. The bears looked up from grazing, and the giraffe ran straight at them and pushed through them. At first, the bears looked after the giraffe, but then the lion came upon them. The lion wanted to get through the bears as the giraffe had done, but as it tried to push through, the bears struggled and growled, and pushed the lion back. The lion stood at a distance from the bears and roared. The bears roared back and charged toward the lion and stopped. The bears growled and the lion slowly backed away. Then Alice's mom called out, "Alice, pick up your stuffed animals off of the sofa and floor, it's time to go to bed." Alice yelled backed, "Alright mom," and picked up her stuffed lion, and two bears in one hand, and got her giraffe off of the floor and her deer from the recliner. She walked from the room as her mom turned off the fan and the light. 
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Set Four:
A Photograph
A PoemDigging into the earth,
collecting material, to build something, one with an expectation, one with a dream, of flying away. 
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An Artwork
A Short StoryThe creature
Into the earth the creature dug, scooping dirt into its mouth with its arms. It pulled the soil in a half circular motion, and with three or four strokes, its face was full. Then into the sky it flew, above the grass, by the tree, and to the eve of the house. Hanging from a stem, was a honeycomb that looked like it was cut in half. The creature spit the dirt onto one edge, and with its mouth, continued the shape. After patting it with its arms, it flew down from the eve, by the tree, over the grass and back to the patch of dirt. It landed, scooped dirt into its mouth, and then flew to the eve. In the distance, there was a crash. On the honeycomb, the creature continued the honeycomb, spitting the dirt, and shaping. In its small mind, there was an instinct, that showed an image of eggs. In the distance, there was a crash. Then from the honeycomb, the creature flew, back by the tree, again over the grass, and back to the patch of dirt. With its arms, it scooped dirt into its mouth, and when it was full, it flew into the sky. It went over the grass, by the tree and landed on the honeycomb that was hanging from the eve. It spit the dirt from its mouth, and then there was a spray, and chemicals coated its body, went inside its eyes, and into its mouth. It fell to the grass, and twitched before dying. Later, a broom handle, knocked the honeycomb from the eve. 
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Set Three:
A Photograph
A PoemThe snail
As the rain fell, the snail climbed up the wall, and it seemed to do it well, as the rain fell, for despite its shell, and the wall being tall, as the rain fell, the snail climbed up the wall. 
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An Artwork
A Short StoryThe trailer
Looking back at his apartment, the man stood by his car. In his mind, he had a vision of everything leaving his apartment as one unit. He saw his things, somehow being squeezed and compressed, so that they fit into a trailer behind his car. He imagined a giant cube of clothes, dishes, electronics, and other things, floating in the sky, shrinking down, and going inside. His reality had been different. It took him two days to load everything, with trips in and out, over and over. Things went quicker than it would have though, because he did not have to take his furniture. The garbage trucks had taken it away the week before. He listened to the news on Monday, that said people could put debris from the flood outside on Thursday. He put his furniture outside on Thursday. His other things were in the trailer though. He had been wise, if not wise enough. He set his furniture on bricks and took everything else off of the floor and from lower drawers and shelves and put them on top of his sofa the day before the storm. He thought this was a sufficient precaution. His furniture was four inches off of the ground. The water was eight inches high. He stood by the trailer and looked back at the apartment. Everyone else was leaving too. The owner said his insurance wouldn't cover the building, and unless people had bought a policy for their things, nothing would be covered. No one had a policy. He walked around the trailer, and checked the lock on the back. He looked at the tires and checked the connection to his car. He then walked around, opened the car door and sat inside. As he backed up, he could feel the change in weight as his car pushed his life. He turned slowly, and awkwardly, but finally straightened everything. He could see others watching him. They seemed to be studying for when they would do it. He shifted the gear to D, although he stopped for a second at N. He had no place to go, but thought "north" sounded good. The storm had come from the south, north would be away. North sounded good. He drove north. 
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Set Two:
A Photograph |
An Artwork |
A Poempink and white blossoms,
on a lemon tree's green stem, were picked for their sight, yet while they were looked upon, a surprising scent was there 
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A Short StoryLemon reminiscing
She stopped in the garden, by the small lemon tree. Towards the end of spring, its blossoms were unfurling and it was surrounded by a scent. She stood and looked around it, and counted the small green lemons. There were three. She remembered all the years before, and the small lemonade stand that she had for three weeks in the summer. She remembered slicing the lemons, turning them on a juicer over a plastic tub, and scooping the little seeds out. She thought about the sugar, and how much she poured in. She smiled now, thinking how she now liked unsweet deserts. She remembered her father, bringing a cooler of ice from the house, and bringing more ice every hour. She saw the sign that she painted, the unleveled wooden boards, and the table cloth she had on her stand. She thought about her friend, the one who lived across the street, who always wore blue, and who helped her with the stand those weeks. For some reason, she could remember, that she split twenty seven dollars and fifty cents at the end of the three weeks with her. She didn't know why she could remember the number. She stood by the lemon tree, and smelled the small pink and white blossoms. She looked at the little green lemons, and imagined what they might look like later. Then she thought about her granddaughter, who would visit her that summer. She thought she might tell her a story, and maybe help her build something, while they both drink lemonade. 
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Set One:
A Photograph
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An Artwork
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A Poemthe little black dog,
looks up with happy interest - will there be a treat? 
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A Short StoryThe little black dog: learning to sit
The little black dog walked around following a man, and smiled. When the man stopped, the dog laid down on the ground and wiggled around. As he did, the man walked away and stood in another part of the yard. When the dog saw him leave, he got up and followed. The man then said something to the dog. The dog looked at him, paused, and laid down on the ground and wiggled around. Again, the man walked away and stood in another part of the yard. When the dog saw him leave, wondering where he was going, he got up and followed him. As the dog approached, the man said something again. Again the dog looked, tilted his head – and then laid down on the ground and wiggled around. The man closed his eyes and sighed with a smile. He then walked away and stood in another part of the yard. The dog, realizing this must be a game, got up and followed him. When the man stopped, the dog walked to him. He was ready to lay down on the ground, when the man held out his hand. The man said something, and held a treat up in his other hand. The little black dog stopped when the man held out his hand and looked at it, before slowly turning his head to the treat. The little dog looked at the treat as the man said something again. The dog stood in a puzzlement, but wanting the treat, sat down and stared at it. He smiled as he looked up. Then the man said something different, smiled, patted the dog on the head, and gave him the treat. The dog ate it and smiled, as he wondered at the man's curiosity. 
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