Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: illustration

  • Story: The Boom Box and the Grape – 11/08/19

    Story: The Boom Box and the Grape – 11/08/19

    They grooved together as no other two could.

    The Boom Box sat above the hotel, on the top of the roof, thinking, “Well, goodness, this is utterly boring!” No one to play for, no one to entertain, nothing worth sharing, the tunes from his brain. The rooftop was deserted, there was nothing but air conditioning vents, and an entrance to the stairwell. This was the place where Boom Box often came to vent.

    Despite the illusion that a boom box’s existence was happy, jolly, bombastic, Boom Box actually suffered from moment of deep sadness, when he realised his presence and tunes were unappreciated. After all, he played songs from a cassette recorded in the 1980’s, and while the many tunes were pleasing and repetitive to him, others wanted something more modern to dance away the night with their hands filled with glasses of rum, scotch, whisky or gin. Their tastes were very specific, this crowd that I speak of, a refined understanding, a niche listening style, a charismatic knowledge. Unfortunately for Boom Box, he had been assigned to this crowd, whom gathered at midnight every Friday in the ballroom five stories below. He was tired of being something that he was not, he wanted to revel and sing, to provide his 1980’s tunes and be appreciated for the songs he held within.

    So, one evening, on a Friday night when he was meant to otherwise be occupied, he snuck into the pool room, where there was being held a party, at a quarter to nine. The pool was filled with inflatable toys, the room decorated in a celebratory style, a lone swimmer clasping a pool noodle smiled at him and said, “Hey Boom Box! Give me some music, play me something until it gets well into my head!” He picked his favourite song, and away the sound did blast, the person in the pool decided to jump out onto the concrete and he proceeded to fervently dance. He seemed to love the tune, it was everything he had been hoping for, a sound that came to him and so very soon would there be more revellers accompanying this ecstatic dancer.

    Then, all of a sudden,  Boom Box was swept up from the ground, thrown upwards, almost seemingly to the heavens, and placed within a tight grip of a purple hand upon a shoulder, a perfect spot for this contraption. The hand adjusted the knobs, bass and treble, volume pumped loud, and away the tunes would go! Boom Box looked down at his holder, and with a giggle of great delight, he realised he had been swept up by an excitable, bouncy Grape, who seemed funky now, her style and mood would never truly abate, her aura seemed so alive and alight.

    She grooved with the mood, sung along to the love songs, the power ballads, the crooning, the dancing music, the tunes, it was all so damned fantastic! The revellers greatly appreciated the Grape’s efforts, and wind back and play and wind back and play, repeatedly, would Boom Box of his tunes, that he thought, “Stuff it, I will not bother with the people in the ballroom.” This was his place now, his room of his ultimate forte, he would remain here every Friday, ignoring the ballroom always. After all, it wasn’t as though they appreciated him up there, and the music he was forced to play them was stuffy and of it he did not hold one iota of care. And when the hotel staff came looking for him at a quarter past one, he simply silenced himself, pretended to be dead and faulty, and away for a boom box replacement did the hotel staff run.

    Grape proved a great partner, she was such a warm, sweetened and talented ball of fruit, Boom Box wondered whether she had been sent from afar to save him from the bathroom’s continued metaphorical noose. Grape was the groove master who knew how to speed things faster, and slow them right down, to create a mood-like roller coaster. Now he was relaxed, with her, in her presence, it seemed together they would go far, but even if only for the night, their collaboration meant much to him, for it also meant he had not gone down without a fight. The ballroom members could be completely forgotten for all he cared, memories erased that very night, his efforts no longer forced to be shared.

    Grape and Boom Box, the epic new duo, the talented pair, they ended up travelling far and wide everywhere. A continent wide tour, and then one of the world, they entertained crowds upon crowds, of men, women, boys, and girls. Their tunes reached and touched the hearts of generations, for the recordings that Boom Box held there was only one of this compilation, and when it came to alterations, Grape leaped forth and performed her dee-jaying skills to recreate that roller coaster ride’s rapidly fluctuating moods.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Story: Iced Chai Latte and Hot Choc: Who Will Reign Supreme? – 10/08/19

    Story: Iced Chai Latte and Hot Choc: Who Will Reign Supreme? – 10/08/19

    The Iced Chai Latte knew she was rich. Her thickened fluid crept down the throats of many, her recipe slid down for sure, it quelled the need for an iced beverage, satisfying and scratching that irritating itch. She was utterly delicious and gorgeous, she was made for a relative and worthy cause. For every Iced Chai Latte that was made within the cafe down the street, half of its price was donated to the charity of the Homeless Family Dream. Needless to say, the price of the latte was inflated to make certain, to be sure, that the Homeless Family Dream received and reaped the most benefits that could be grasped and seen. Over the past month, two thousand and twenty five dollars were gleaned, from thirsty sippers who wanted their parched mouths satiated, and their hearts warmed, their desire to be altruistic a living, real life dream.

    But what say you to the humble Hot Choc, who sat next to Iced Chai Latte, no one looking at her? Was she now commonplace, was she uncool, was she unworthy of being in the room? Why was the Iced Chai Latte all the rage, just because she was newer and of this world was upon a charity’s visual page? Hot Choc was classic, Hot Choc was nice, Hot Choc was everything that you’d ever want in a hot vice.

    And why was she being snubbed, for being traditional, why, even her once appealing marshmallows were being utterly ignored! Sadness upon this day, damned be you now, if all that you are hoping for is to wear a facade of a crown. To pretend that you do not like the Hot Choc, why, what has she done to you at all, has she performed you ill, you used to like her so much, when you pranced all over town! You once glorified her, you once could not wait for that sugary, chocolately goodness to slip into your mouth, and now your eyes are wayward, they are too far north, they do not wish for the Hot Choc to enter and go down south.

    Iced Chai L atte may be in style, but while the appeal is heightened somewhat by the charity drive, we cannot forget how glorious she tastes, we must understand this always. In comparison to the classic, Hot Choc, she is bombastic, but Hot Choc will always have a place, in our hearts, for she is fundamentally fantastic. And so ends the drive of who wins, who is the superior of them all, we cannot, and should not be made to decide, for the taste of both enthrals. Better still to order one of both, then down the hatch, down south where we will enjoy them the most.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem and Drawing: A Hungry Little Cupcake – 04/08/19

    Poem and Drawing: A Hungry Little Cupcake – 04/08/19

    This Cupcake was ravenous for candy,


    A hungry little cupcake looks down onto the ground, what does he see? What have his searching eyes found?

    He’s found a pile of scattered candy, from his favourite piñata horse, his name was Joseph Weedlie, this is important to know, I’m to be trusted, of course.

    Mr. Weedlie had led a long, fruitful life, where he had weedled candy from manufacturers or shop owners, and become full and bloated his stomach did inside, it was the engorgement of candy that was the main cause.

    Bound for extraction were his goods this day, and hit and hit did the little cupcakes of the town, enjoying the festivities always.

    Weedlie didn’t hurt from the attacks, he knew the candy would go to a good cause, he had his eyes on his friend, Thomas the Cupcake, of his motives, they could be judged pure, this was to be assured.

    With the finality of the explosion of sweets upon the ground, Thomas the Cupcake rushed forth and delectably obtained that which he decided was to be his own.

    The straggling remnants of Weedlie were soon taken away, they were no longer required to float eerily and alone hanging from the trees, like something on a hauntingly dark day.

    And it was with great joy Thomas began to shovel the candy into his hands and then scoff the candy within.

    It didn’t taste sweet enough though, it were as though someone had extracted the sweetened juice, the sugar content of these items were so very low, the juice content and concentration had been vamoosed!

    Still he slurped in the goods, seconds by minutes of the day, until five minutes later there was nothing left to consume, nothing remaining for an hour, let alone a second of this day.

    Thomas is happy now, he realises he does not need to eat things that are so very sweet, his taste buds have acclimatised like they have, there was no reason to to otherwise think.

    For he had survived the alteration, and no diabetes in the future would have he to deal with, such a negative thought sensation, he was more aware of his sugar intake now, thanks to Mr. Weedlie for altering what he had collected and what Thomas had briefly owned.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem and Drawing: “Onward, loyal steed!” Henry the Toy Horse’s Flight – 02/08/19

    Poem and Drawing: “Onward, loyal steed!” Henry the Toy Horse’s Flight – 02/08/19

    It was one of Henry’s dreams to fly.

    “Onward and upward, loyal steed!” cried the rounded grey bat, dangling tasty cherries before the face of his best friend, Henry the Toy Horse, his plan to rise was just that.

    Henry did not have wings like the bat, but that didn’t stop his dream,

    He and Grey Bat were best friends and he wanted to rise like Grey Bat could, easily and fearlessly, just like him, Henry prayed and wished he could.

    Would the world part its textile tapestry reality and allow him to perform this flight, no matter how impossible it seemed, into the day and into the nights?

    The cherries encouraged him, oh, how they were both so sour and sticky sweet,

    With Grey Bat riding atop his back, flying upwards, he was required to rise some more with telepathic measures.

    What are telepathic measures, may you ask? It is when Henry would become linked with the mind of Grey Bat and be able to practice his activities and thoughts and special psychic powers.

    Therefore, if Grey Bat could fly, hypothetically could he, all he needed was to learn the mental weavings and knowledge available and able to be obtained so freely.

    “Come on, Henry, you can do this!” encouraged Grey Bat relentlessly. “Come on, rise up and above, make the most of this!”

    And with Henry’s head steaming, his mind trembling, an exterior of outwardly exacerbated internal thinking,

    He exhaled ever so deeply and then with some visual imagery, two feet off the ground he slowly rose, what a triumphant victory!

    Grey Bat whooped and hollered for many following days, as they rose and fell into the air as though of flying technique they knew it all, always.

    For what a great victory that was to be had, the telepathic measures proved so fresh and rad, perhaps they were the only beings in the land to use such a forthcoming measure, of pertinent knowledge to be shared.

    And fly and fly all the days and into the nights they did, for many years, then they introduced their growing families.

    All of Henry’s horsey sons and daughters were able to take flight, and how proud their Godfather Grey Bat was to see this, it was so pleasantly nice.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Story example: Life in the Aquarium: A Trapped Land Dweller’s Nightmare – 30/07/19

    Story example: Life in the Aquarium: A Trapped Land Dweller’s Nightmare – 30/07/19

    One forced foot in front of the other, she trudged through the sticky affray, of the seaweed clinging to her calves and knees and ankles, on this otherwise fine and calming day. From the outside of her world, things appeared safe and sound, but on the interior, and within her screaming mind she would find there was no end to the curious crowds. Peer into the glass separating she and them they would, so dutifully, knowingly and freely, without any understanding of her paining anguish and agony, of being bound by her once land dwelling feet.

    Why was she here, how had she arrived here, who was so cruel they would capture a land dwelling individual and place her within a rectangular, tiny vessel, for all the world to see, why she suffered so freely? For it was not the simple physical paining that caused her to groan, it was the mental pain of being all on her own, with only fish for company and sea rocks and squid, all the occupants which could quietly exist. With her, she needed verbal stimulation, and emotional context, and someone to feel her warmth, and of their love she could experience that emotion again, for how could one coexist simply with barnacles, crustaceans and fish by her side? She had left so many others in her previous world behind.

    This woman’s tale was utterly miserable, could there be a shining light? To witness, to daydream about, something which could save her from the Inside. But no one from her former life knew whereabouts she gone and what she had become, and trudge all morning, noon and night did she, waiting for a hero to come. The curious crowd always pointed and would speak, of how interesting it was to watch her scene. Of the sadness which covered her expression, so clearly overwhelming, was there not anything positive worthy of me saying?

    Sadly, it was not the case, it were as though she were a mermaid trapped on the land above, but reversed, she had been plunged deep within this aquarium by a nasty man who thought so little of humans, apparently unworthy of respect nor love. He believed anything was up for capture, as long as it could breathe underwater, but how could this be? She was a woman of the earth, the land, not the sea, and indeed, he solved that problem with a click of his fingers, one, two and then three! He was handy with contraptions; he created for her a breathing apparatus, quite like what divers used, except this last for centuries and ages. She was forever doomed to a life beneath the water, not even afforded residence into the cool, calming sea, but a facade of that world, perfect for viewers such as you and I to permanently see.

    With no friends to save her, she even stopped trudging in the temperature controlled water. What was the point, when there was no emotions or excitement to feel, not even of impending danger?

    All of a sudden, one morning, a man rushed from behind the crowd.

    “Sharon, Sharon! I will save you!” and he thrust his thick elbow into the glass before everyone, causing a collective gasp, and an accumulative, “Woowwwwww…” The water exploded forth, the glass shattered everywhere to be seen: coral, mussels, molluscs, seaweed, all an aquarium owner’s both nightmare and dream. All for the picking, for those who wished to glean.

    To Sharon, the trapped Land Dweller’s surprise, she recognised her best friend Scott from the land of the Outside. He had changed so much, gained much weight, grown a thick beard, but still she couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognised him immediately, but then again, she had had much to fear. A striking human he was, he had missed her ever so much, he had caught wind of her entrapment from yonder gossip amongst the fields.

    And here her saviour was, hugging her with such protective kindness and a warm embrace, she felt so loved, safe and reassured, by his presence, and she knew by his side she would never leave. He had saved her from a life of paining, agonising and utmost loneliness indeed. She felt so overwhelmingly grateful that all she could do was limply hug him back. Later she would express truly how much she missed him and her former life with words spoken, uttered, sung, and actions made after the fact. She knew he understood how much she appreciated him, and his saving of her, and while the aquarium owner would never be brought to justice for capturing and never intending to release her, Scott and Sharon would live together, their friendship growing stronger, then into love each day, a little by little, a little more.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem and Drawing: Ecstatic Jumping Jellybean – 30/07/19

    Poem and Drawing: Ecstatic Jumping Jellybean – 30/07/19

    She was more than happy with her life.

    She was an ecstatic jumping jellybean, the happiest bean the world had seen.

    She liked to jump in and out of people’s way, causing reckless commotions throughout the day.

    Oh, how it made her sing and then laugh, merriment spurting from her sweetened mouth,

    And then when it came to laying down for rest during the night, her body was horizontally tested, and her mind and body were slowly going south for hours to remain.

    What existed within Jellybean’s dreams?

    Why, the prettiest, glorious stories to be ever viewed, heard, then mentally seen!

    She created mental images from her daily events, from the moments when she jumped here, there and everywhere.

    The shock, the horror, and the joy, upon people’s faces and within their eyes,

    When she intercepted their paths, of course it amused her, these mental images were set to last.

    “WHY, JOLLYBEAN, WHY ARE YOU ASLEEP?” A booming voice entered her dreams.

    “JOLLY, JOLLY, JOLLY!” and she heard a loud guffaw, she certainly wasn’t peacefully sleeping anymore.

    It was her half brother Fred, the Green Grotesque Jellybean who had fallen and bumped his head,

    He now sported a great bump in his forehead and in his crown, a mere look at the dints would make one cry, “Yeeeeouch!”

    “You’re always sleeping or scaring,” Fred chided. “Why don’t you do something productive?”

    “What, like fall and hit my head?” Jollybean, also known as Jellybean said, and then she regretted it, why did she need to be cruel with what she said?

    Fred’s saddened, long face pained her to view, she decided to cheer him up, in the best way she could.

    “Let’s go scaring, come, it will be great fun!” and reluctantly, then slowly smilingly Fred agreed, and then the decision was made, the activity agreed upon.

    And a gloriously fine day together they had did they, pursuing peoples and other individuals, keeping their own wits at bay.

    That Fred clear forgot the nasty comment Jollybean had made, and he hugged her tightly for the great and wondrously hilarious day.

    Nowadays they perform their scaring twice weekly as a way of maintaining their sibling bond,

    They’ve grown closer and closer and greatly enjoy the moments together just because,

    They were not essentially that different, despite Frank’s propensity for clumsiness,

    And Jollybean’s habit of making life a light-hearted laughing mockery and sometimes a downright mess.

    Because when they were together, their lives were always blessed.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Story example: Zimmy the Fashionable Snowman Finds His Way – 23/07/19

    Story example: Zimmy the Fashionable Snowman Finds His Way – 23/07/19

    Despite his situation, Zimmy always chased his dreams.

    No one ever invited Zimmy to the table. He was forever left to his own devices, he was always cast aside with contempt and reviled. Why was this so? How could one little snowman be made to view and experience such deep pains below?

    Zimmy was always a cheery brunette, his shoulder length style healthily bouncing to and fro, his perfect follicles just begging to be seen, to be gloriously shown. He wished to be seen by the world and acknowledged for his beauty, style and grace, a showcasing of his delicate preparation and procedure that took hours upon hours to trial upon his well made-up face.

    Yet how could this dream be an actuality when he worked behind the scenes, by himself, as a bank office cleaner, no one to view him? The only times outside he faced were the short walks from the car to his work premises, and the weekend’s food errand trips, here there were no  surprises or coincidences.

    It wasn’t that Zimmy was lazy, nor lacking a sense of motivation to pursue a dream that was dandy and fine and his calling, but melt upon melting was he becoming, he knew that if his dream were to be achieved, that this was the correct and special time to be showing. Zimmy did not want to turn into a puddle before he could achieve the goal of his life. Viewed him en masse, all eyes set upon him, steely and serious, curious and admiring views, he would be the prize to be seen, a fresh faced beauty, to the industry he’d be so coveted and new.

    In the corner at home, Zimmy sat huddled away from the heat with his achingly empty belly. His malicious family smiled down upon him with mouthfuls of food which they chewed ravenously and freely.

    “Hungry, Zimmy?” his mother heckled.

    “Want some of this?” his sister hollered, presenting then detracting her loaded fork.

    “Oh, give him a break,” his father snapped, and threw him a cube of beef curry.

    Although Zimmy hated being treated differently, at least the forced starvation kept him slim and trim for his upcoming fashion show and after party. The fashion show was elegant and simple, it was quiet and hushed, an appreciation for a designer’ s talents, showcased upon Zimmy with his great figure and utter charm. This being his first official show, Zimmy was incredibly nervous, eyes red and raw and nerves just painfully so, what to do but put one foot before another upon the catwalk, and concentrate so incredibly well?

    At the end of the walkway, awaited Zimmy’s closest friends, cheering him on with voices so boisterously strong, to commend. These were his true family, not the beings who starved and abused him, these individuals who were truly providing him with emotional support and qualities of love and trust, unlike the ones who had snatched and shattered these.

    Family doesn’t have to be the clan one was born into, the bloodline of relations does not determine who is there for you, for love, honour and acceptance can come from any one, a shoulder to learn on, a smile to share, a hand to weep upon. Who is in your extended family? I’m sure you already know, and thinking about them should cause you to feel joyous, allowing a feeling of acceptance and being free to grow. A family appreciates you for you and you alone.

    Whether friends or actual blood family, they will hold you up, tell you the truth even when you don’t want to hear it, for the good of who you are, they make you become stronger from it. Your family hopefully only wants the best for you, for them to witness your life’s successes, these are what they wish could be seen. Your life’s journey. Their love for you is like a warm, gentle caress.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Story example: Sheila the Bear’s 2nd Birthday – 19/07/19

    Story example: Sheila the Bear’s 2nd Birthday – 19/07/19

    Sheila was delighted: her birthday had arrived!

    The day had arrived! A beary happy birthday for Sheila indeed, today was her second birthday, she’d been counting down the days for the last three weeks. She could barely remember her last birthday, she was just that bit too young, but her Mama and Papa bear assured her that today would be such utter fun.

    She had invited her class of thirty bears, squirrels, rabbits and other animals, to a spectacular party set up outside in the woods, where there was a fairground set up, with dodgem cars, spinning rides, even an inflatable bouncing castle exploration with many side and front rooms. 

    With glee, Shiela had laid her eyes upon her birthday party surprise, her parents had kept the set up a secret from her, and rushing over to the dodgems she began to settle herself into the one and only pink princess car. She drove around while waiting for her friends’ imminent arrival, she was a fierce racer it seemed, the extra practice she was getting in would surely result in the beating of the other teams! 

    When the guests arrived, they had a grand old time with the fairground of her special day, the only problem though was all the animals could not use the inflatable castle today. Why not? It is enough to answer, the claws of her class of creatures were too sharp and punctured the castle with multiple holes. It was a downright shame as the castle was merely a hire for the day, not owned by them and surely worth thousands of dollars, how Shiela’s parents groaned. 

    But it was her special day and nothing would allow their daughter’s happiness to come undone, lovely Mama Bear and Papa Bear distracted them all from disappointment with a lilting song. 

    “Come for the honey, come for the oats, come for the cupcakes, come for the fairy bread and marmalade toast! Allow us all to eat, young ones!” With a smile they led the animals inside, where Shiela’s massive birthday cake awaited them all, causing great widened smiles and tummies rumbling inside. 

    Despite the puncturing of the castle the day was deemed a great success, for this would be a very special day for Shiela for remember, many memories of the day, she felt extremely blessed.

    By Alice Well (LMH)  

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Story example: Little Sooty Bunny and the Forest – 17/07/19

    Story example: Little Sooty Bunny and the Forest – 17/07/19

    Little Sooty Bunny liked when she could explore.

    By Alice Well (LMH) (c)

    Little Sooty Bunny liked to be led astray. Although she was cruelly kept captive upon a leash, occasionally her owner’s heart would be swayed. During these times she would be led off the path, the common ground as it were known and called, and into the forest into a jovial scene where characters waited to greet Little Sooty Bunny and made her excitement grow!

    It was on adventures such as these that the Bunny wished extremely ever so much to escape, so she could play in the woods, with the Twin Trees and their smiling mouths, eyes hooded secretively, only happiness exuded, no negativity, no horrid hate. The Sun and the Moon chuckling and giggling with accompanying forest tunes, the Trees so free they were tickling Bunny with their sweetly sung Fur Elises and Clair de Lunes.

    But Bunny was stuck! Held by that unfair leash, how would she escape, from the terrible owner she always managed to accidentally displease every day? For every movement or noise Bunny would make would upset and cause her owner’s anger to flare like a terrible disease, taking hours to abate. The only reason he took Bunny out was to get her away from the house, where he longed to lay about, and tiring Bunny of energy meant his later relaxing could be uninterrupted and entirely at ease.

    The silly owner didn’t realise that if he allowed Bunny loose to freedom, he would kill two birds with one stone: allowing him to continually laze about and allowing Bunny the freedom to escape from the cruel owner, of him to be without, and to have a more loving, welcoming home.

    Then one day a crafty squirrel descended from a tree, “Allow me to help, dear Bunny, allow me to help you view this world, how special it is, how beautifully perfect it can be.” And gnaw through the leash slowly did Squirrel until he gained success, with a tentative look at her sleepy owner Bunny was suddenly more than impressed! Escape did she, after thanking her saviour, and into the forest she went to live, a life of happiness and ardour. It was something that Bunny was most deserving of, something she appreciated most wholeheartedly.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Story example: The Constricting Snake – 17/07/19

    Story example: The Constricting Snake – 17/07/19

    The Constricting Snake had many fruity victims.

    By Alice Well (LMH) (c)

    The constricting snake had had many victims as of late. In particular he liked to wrap around hapless pieces of fruit. His favourite, of course, was the tomato (yes, that’s a fruit!), wrapping tighter and tighter until: EXPLODE! Its shape capput! 

    The seeds and mess would be splattered on the roof, wall, floor, sofa, kitchen chairs, and how satisfying it was to Snake that he, giggled and twisted and further contorted because he knew it was everywhere. But he never ate his fruit victims, they were simply game for his amusing, he wanted to find more, for this game was worth further pursuing.

    One day Snake came upon a red apple, how gloriously shiny did it appear, that Snake immediately set upon it with a wry grin and wicked curl tactic, constrict, CONSTRICT, but it would not become broken in a manner that he felt would be so fantastic. 

    Growing irritated and growly, Snake set his fangs upon it, biting and biting, deeply and rapidly until nothing but holes were left to view. This poor red apple was like a pitted golf ball or the moon with its craters, of his interest Snake would give up incredibly soon. For there was nothing left to alter, nothing to change or attack or squash, that he unravelled quickly without any faltering and slid into the dust and the brush. And another poor waste of fruit had wasted had he, that it was lucky the little animals discovered the remnants for their morning tea.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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