The sea air brought the relief for which I had been hoping.

“O lies! Damned lies!” I had cursed, thinking back on the incident that had driven me to these travels. I was simply doing my job, putting together a write-up for social media. The last things I needed were a photo and biography.

I stopped at the studio, snapped a photo, and went home to my computer, but there I struggled to log in. “Where did my PIN go?” I asked. Without it, I couldn’t post anything.

The artist accused me of sabotage. “Lies!” I told him. “Those are damned lies!”

He scowled back at me. “You’ve ruined everything: the paintings, my reputation and biography!”

“Sea air’ll ‘elp you,” my Cockney neighbor said. He had been correct. The weekend away was what I needed.

It wasn’t just the air. It was the sound of the gulls and the waves, the salty smell, the sand, shells, and dunes. It was the absence of people.

When I came back, I found legal documents shoved through my mail-slot. Some were messages from the police saying they needed to talk to me. Some were nasty-grams from the artist. My troubles hadn’t gone away.

“Did ‘e ‘elp you?” asked my neighbor.

“Who?” I replied.

“Sea air,” he said.

“I went to the shore. It was wonderful,” I said, “but I didn’t see anyone there.”

“No!” My neighbor said, “Cee ‘ee Ayr! ‘e’s really good at this stuff. Do ya need ‘is contact info?”

---

This is my weak attempt at the Unicorn Challenge. I’m still reeling from the news that this was the penultimate Unicorn Challenge. Next week will be the last one.

Of course, they tried to put a positive spin on things. “Look!” they said. “CE Ayr wrote a book! You can order it on Amazon!”

So I hid the name of his book a couple of times in this post and fought the urge to add an “e” to CE Ayr’s name.

And I’m not even going to tell you the rules for the Unicorn Challenge — that the post can’t be more than 250 words and we have to use the photo for inspiration — because next week it will all be over.

In the meantime, I’ll just cry myself to sleepe.

The first time it happened they were playing The Train Game.

Alistair and his brother, Duncan, had made up that game. They would stand on the knoll to watch the train go by. As they caught glimpses of the people in the cars, one would shout, “Two boys and their dad!” Then the other one had to make up the story of what they were doing on the train. Going on vacation, going to visit their mother in prison, going to crazy Uncle Freddy’s house. The longer they played, the more absurd the stories became.

If the train was long enough and the stories short enough, they could each tell a few. They would laugh as they tried to outdo the other.

On this particular day, though, Duncan saw the little girl at the same time as Alistair. He shouted, “Girl with big eyes and frizzy hair!”

Alistair was silent.

“C’mon! It’s an easy one,” said Duncan.

Alistair looked pale and sweaty.

“Are you okay?” Duncan asked.

Alistair shook his head, slowly, confusedly.

“I saw her whole life in her eyes,” he finally said.

Duncan dropped it.

A few days later they were playing the cloud game, which involved finding pictures in the clouds.

“A dragon,” Duncan shouted and pointed.

“A horse running away,” said Alistair, pointing.

“Little girl with frizzy hair,” Duncan said.

Alistair gasped. His face went white.

“Her life is painful,” he said.

Later that week, Alistair saw the girl in real life.

---

This is my submission to the Unicorn Challenge — a challenge with only two rules: 1) no more than 250 words, and 2) use the photo for a prompt.

Don’t ask me what the story means. I don’t know. I admit, though, that I saw it in the clouds.

“Are you sure that nobody is home?” Barbie asked.

Ronan nodded. “They are gone for the day. Those potted plants shield the pool from view anyway. We run to the pool wrapped in our towels. When we get there, we can throw them on a chair and dive in.”

His roguish smile gave her the courage she needed. “Let’s go,” she cried, and took off running.

Unfortunately, her towel fell off partway across the lawn, but she ran naked the rest of the way. Ronan picked up the towel and set it on a chair before he jumped in the water with her.

They splashed and swam in the nude. Barbie giggled the whole time. Ronan felt alternately giddy and guilty. He couldn’t believe she had agreed to it.

In the end, nurture won over nature. His strict upbringing led to the utmost respect for Barbie. Although myriad other scenarios ran through his mind, when they got out of the pool, he handed her her towel, wrapped his own around his lower half, and they ran back to the house to get dressed.

The next day, Ronan’s mother said to him, “I need to talk to you.”

Ronan paled and waited for her to continue.

“You know we’ve been setting up security cameras inside the house and around the property,” she said. “We have cameras facing the back lawn and the pool…” she said.

Ronan felt nauseous.

“… that don’t seem to be working. Could you try to figure out why?”

---

This is my contribution to the Unicorn Challenge. It’s an easy challenge: no more than 250 words and use the photo as a prompt.

“You know what’s wrong with America?” George frequently said. “Storage Units.”

His wife, Suzanne, listened, nodded and mentally added closets, attics, garages, and barns. Specifically, barns full of stuff, not hay and animals.

In attempting to clean out her parents’ home so it could be sold, her brother’s room was off-limits.

“Keep away from my stuff,” he growled, but he never came over to clean it out.

George whispered, “It’s the dead body.”

The dead body became a running private joke.

The dead body became the reason her brother, who hadn’t lived in that house for decades, kept the door to his bedroom locked.

On the news one day Suzanne heard about bodies discovered in a storage unit. It made her stomach twist inside. Someone complained about the smell. When the unit was opened, there they were, rotting. Maybe George was right.

Finally, the realtor was scheduled to come look at the house so it could go on the market. The room had to be opened.

Suzanne fiddled around with the ring of skeleton keys until she found one that worked.

The room was mostly empty. A dusty dresser. A dusty bare bed. A dusty desk

Dust was the predominant feature in the room.

She opened the closet, though, and gasped. It was packed full of red prom dresses.

Oh, the secrets her brother had kept. She wanted to tell him that it was okay.

At least there were no dead bodies.

---

This is my submission for the Unicorn Challenge. The rules are easy — no more than 250 words and use the photo as a prompt.

“That’s weird,” Johnny said. “I don’t understand it.”

“I’m not sure I do either, but that’s art,” his mother replied.

Johnny scoffed. “Everything about it is wrong,” he said. “The hands are too big. The feet are too big. The head is too small. The body itself is disproportionate.”

“Did you just say ‘disproportionate’?” she asked.

“It’s a big word, Mom. I learned it at school. Do you need me to explain it you?” Johnny replied, looking up at his mother who was fighting back laughter.

“No,” she replied, “I know what it means.”

“I’m right, aren’t I? If he came alive and climbed down from that chair, he would be a scary dude.”

His mother carefully considered the piece. Johnny was right. “I think the sculptor was trying to say something,” she said.

“What?” Johnny asked.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“You know what I think? I think the sculptor did a terrible job. If I was Art, I’d be mad,” Johnny said.

“What are you talking about?” his mother asked.

“You’re the one that recognized the statue guy!” he exclaimed. “You said it was Art!”

His mother started to laugh.

Johnny repeated, “If I was Art, I’d be mad!”

---

This is my submission for the Unicorn Challenge. The weekly challenge offers a picture to inspire your writing and a limit of 250 words.

I came in at a cool 200 words today.

The Sally Rule for the Unicorn Challenge: When you have no idea about the picture, turn it into a parent-child conversation.

The series of signs:

[IT’S MUCH BETTER]

[THAN YOU THINK]

[DO NOT MISS]

[THE DRINK museum]

“What’s that about?” Johnny asked his mother. They were driving on a small highway in Kansas to visit his uncle.

“I don’t know,” Mom said. “Uncle Fred never mentioned it.”

[WINK*WINK*WINK]

[YOU’RE ON THE BRINK]

[of THE DRINK museum]

The signs were brightly colored, pink-orange-green, obnoxious.

[WHATEVER YOU DO]

[DON’T BLINK!]

[YOU MIGHT MISS]

[THE DRINK museum]

“We have to stop,” Johnny said. “It’s probably cool.”

Mom sighed and pulled over.

Signs guided them to a sketchy-looking parking lot outside a fenced-in enclosure. A ticket booth, painted those same loud colors, stood in the middle of the wooden wall facing them.

“You might be s’prised,” the toothless old ticket-taker said, pointing to path they were to follow.

[MILK]

First, they came to plywood cow with teats that could be squeezed. Johnny went to try.

“Don’t touch it!” Mom shrieked. “Germs,” she explained.

The cow was followed by a goat, sheep, yak, camel, horse, and moose.

“Do people really drink moose milk, Mom?”

She shrugged.

[VEGETABLES and FRUITS]

The path led them past a large plywood carrot, beet, pumpkin, cucumber, tomato, oranges, grapefruit, apples (and an old apple press), and grapes (and a vat for stomping to make wine).

[OTHER]

The hops were labeled.

Corn, barley, and rye followed.

“Corn juice?” asked Johnny, but Mom saw the still around the bend.

[FREE SAMPLES]

“Goody!” said Johnny. “I want to try them all!”

---

This is my (weak) contribution to this week’s Unicorn Challenge. Still working on getting my mojo back.

The rules for the challenge are easy — no more than 250 words and use the photo for a prompt.