story whimsy

By Angie Bromeland The pair of fawns walk awkwardly down the sidewalks in town. All along the street, people’s faces are pressed against windows to see the darling deer. Old Mr. Mitchem is eating an apple on his front porch hidden in the shadow of the awning. He hasn’t yet noticed the fawns, and the fawns are too confused by the hard cement beneath their hooves to pay him any notice. Mr. Mitchem yawns and takes a bite out of his apple. That’s when he notices the two deer. He squints to be sure he isn’t imagining the sight, and he laughs. The darker of the two fawns hears him, and gawks in his direction. Mr. Mitchem freezes in place, not wanting to startle the baby deer. Then, to his surprise, the fawn takes a step in his direction. And then another. It isn’t long before the fawn walks right to Mr. Mitchem’s porch railing. Across the street, Mr. Mitchem’s neighbor, Mrs. Gruber, is wide eyed as she watches in surprise. The fawn stretches her neck over the railing, and snatches the ...

By Angie Bromeland The kite rotated on its string. It was situated high above the trees, now, but Ezra wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. Soon, his grandmother would call him home for dinner, and he’d have to try to bring it in. No sooner had he thought it than his grandmother’s voice called to him. Ezra nervously began pulling at the kite string. The last thing he wanted was for the kite to be penetrated by a branch, or worse yet, be held captive by a tree. It would be ruined, then, and Ezra valued his kite more than any other thing he owned. Ezra wound the string in even faster as his kite imitated a tornado. The kite gradually grew closer and Ezra ran this way and that, guiding it between the branches.   At last, the kite landed in his hands. Ezra didn’t have time to inspect it for holes before running home. Ezra burst through the door and rushed to the kitchen. “The wind must have carried my voice away,” his grandmother insinuated with a knowing look. It had taken Ez...

By Angie Bromeland The spool of red thread dropped to the floor and rolled beneath the desk. “Blast!” Meredith muttered. “Where did that fool thing go?” She crouched on the floor, peering under the desk. “Got you!” she said as she grabbed the spool. Meredith threaded her sewing machine. “Why did I have to blab about having a sewing machine? Why did I say I could sew all these costumes? Now I’ll have to suffer through all this work. Serves me right.” Meredith wasn’t really a crab. She was just worried about all the work ahead of her. That’s when Meredith’s friend, Liam, knocked on her door. “Can I come in?” he called. “It’s cold out here.” Meredith wasn’t expecting anyone, but she hurried to open the door. “How did you get here?” she asked. Liam lived three and a half miles away. “I took a cab,” he said with a smile. Meredith was still confused. “Did we have plans?” she asked. “Nah,” said Liam. “I was just bored and thought you could use a hand on all those costumes....

By Angie Bromeland Henry looked downtrodden as he headed outside. He had hoped to play video games today, but his parents said not until he completed the chores on his list. Henry had almost voiced his opinion, but zipped his lips, instead . He knew if he whined, he’d get even less time to play what he wanted. First on his chore list was to help in the gardens. The rows of vegetables needing weeding. The flowers along the south side of the house needed to be deadheaded . Weeding was pretty dreadful . It hadn’t rained in a while, so the soil was hard and the weeds broke off in an unsatisfying way. Henry shook off his bad attitude when the sun shined down on him. He arms glowed in the sun, and he felt the hair on his head grow warm. The sky was blue, dotted with small, fluffy white clouds. It looked like a field of cloud sheep. Down the street, he heard kids’ voices. The bouncing of a basketball echoed. A small child squealed on a swing set. Henry smiled to himself. He mo...