Tag Archives: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

Dearest Reader

Dearest Reader,

Whilst I am indeed euchred I felt that I owed it to you to pen this tale before I succumb to sleep’s waiting embrace.  I couldn’t cheat you out of it after all this time.

As you know, gentle reader, I have searched far and wide for the specimen we refer to as a perfect man.  A theory had begun to take shape that no such thing existed.  Well, I have to report to you that just last week I found one that may prove to be perfect at long last.  Granted, I only have a cluster of experiences to base this on, but he is looking promising.

Devoted reader, you must believe me when I say that he is intelligent and charming.  He is funny, sexy and kind.  I know, I know it sounds impossible but he is an animal lover and has told me great tales of his protection and support of women and children.  In fact he doesn’t even consider us as a “weaker sex”, he views women as equal to men, NAY, superior to men! 

I’m cognizant that it appears I’m being taken for a ride, so I shall keep my head on a swivel to ensure that I am not being snookered and in turn deceiving you dear reader. 

Did I mention that at the lightest touch from him my senses runaway from me? My pulse quickens and my cheeks flush red as a ripe strawberry.  My temperature rises when I feel his smoldering gaze upon me.  He is every good part of every man rolled into one, he is sex personified….ahem, pardon me gentle reader, as I contain myself. 

Anyway, as I was saying, it will (I assure you) be my pleasure to spend as much time as necessary with him to verify a valid conclusion. I’ll report back with my findings.  Don’t be alarmed if it takes a while.

Yours truly,



~Melanie Thomason












Euchred- utterly done in or at the end of one’s tether; exhausted.
Mythomane- a person with a strong or irresistible propensity for fantasizing, lying, or exaggerating.


Filed under Stories

Once more

She was swimming

in a sea of languages

words crashed over her

in waves

yet she couldn’t understand them

she only spoke in one tongue

These expressions were foreign to her

they swirled around her deafeningly

She just wanted them to stop, to shut up

for more than just a fleeting moment

so that she could her herself think

This surging, swelling tide of Words

rolled over her, leaving her struggling

for breath

and to remain afloat

Just as she was sure she would be swept away

and pulled under

There was a lull

and she could hear his voice on the wind,

softly singing “You are My Sunshine”

and she found the strength

to swim back to shore

once more

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Poetry


The scroll of the screen continued even after she closed her eyes.  It was exhausting looking for someone who apparently had no desire to be found.  Holly never wanted to see him again but find him she must.  She knew that it was the only way to put an end to this madness once and for all. 

Holly had left him and had every reason to be in hiding so why was he now missing?  She had lived in fear of him and was sure that he would find her…so imagine her surprise when it was the police who came knocking.  Now they were looking at her as a suspect, as if she had done something to him!

Apparently, Jake’s friends and family had painted a very different picture of the relationship, one where Jake was as pure as the driven snow and she was the vile and abusive one. Holly had to give it to him…he had found a new way to hurt her after all.  It was surreal hearing this version of events and Holly couldn’t believe they were ALL lying for him. 

Thank goodness for Detective Anne Sloan, she was the one person who seemed to believe Holly’s side of things.  Together the two women were searching for Jake among the living, while everyone else was looking for a body and proof of a murder.  Holly knew two things for sure: Jake was alive and she was not going to let him get away with this.


~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Stories

Sweet Dreams of Spring

she, as the flower

deep in a honeyed slumber-

awaits the sun’s love

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under haiku, Poetry


Ethan was having a hard time holding his tongue.  He’d been holding it for about 20 years already and he knew if he started speaking his mind things would go to shit quickly.  He took an angry drag from his cigarette instead and slowly exhaled.  Rather than looking at his father as he continued his tirade, about how he was wasting his life and would never amount to anything, he focused on his reflection in the hallway mirror.  He was looking kind of haggard and could definitely use a shave.  He didn’t need to listen as he’d heard it all before and his art was not a waste of time no matter what the old man thought.

If he could just maintain his poise and deal with his thoughts alone he knew he could wait this out.  “Alone,” Ethan thought, “well that’s the rub isn’t it?  I’ve always been alone.” Growing up with no mother and a negligent father had made sure of that.  His father had never had time for him, never taken an interest really until now that he was softly knocking on death’s door.  Ethan knew that as an only child, he was set to inherit everything if he could just keep his damn mouth shut.

Not that he cared about the grand old house or the fancy cars… he would sell those off.  He just wanted the funds so that he could finally really search for her.  If he could only find her, he was sure she could untangle at least some of the lies he had been fed his entire life.  He had never met his Aunt Katrina but he was sure she could tell him the truth about his mother.  He had quietly been searching for her, with his limited resources, without his father finding out but so far there were no traces of her.  Ethan had to know what happened, it was imponderable to him that his mother had simply left him there and never looked back.

He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t even realize that his father had come to an end of his scintillating monologue and was impatiently awaiting a response until he heard, “Ethan!” “You worthless shit, I asked you a question, have you even been listening?”  Ethan looked at his father blankly and lit another cigarette.

~Melanie Thomason



Wordle 163.png


Filed under Stories

We belong to the city

We belong to the powers that be.  We belong to the city.

We are taught to obey society’s rules to keep the status quo safe and secure.

We have years of brainwashing and conditioning fed to us by others who themselves have been brainwashed and conditioned. We belong to a government that distorts the facts and we blindly accept them.

Force doesn’t have to be used because we go along with it. After all it is “for our own good.”  You can try to deny it or just embrace the truth.  But don’t kid yourself…they will use force if necessary.

They aren’t the only ones at fault, all of us who quietly acquiesce, afraid to jeopardize the few comforts and rights and privileges we have, are also to blame. We have to see that we are playing a part in our own destruction.

Has the time for defiance passed?

Is there any point looking forward?…as there is no going back…

We belong to the city.  We belong to the state.  We belong to ‘our’ government.  As a song says, “we are all just prisoners here of our own device.”



Filed under Poetry

Spring Cleaning- a short story


As Jason was cleaning out the hall closet he recognized her scarf there on the floor in the back corner.  He didn’t think there were any  of her things left.  With a muffled sob he picked it up, intending to throw it in the “to donate” box, but he found himself holding it to his face breathing in the faint smells of honeysuckle and of her that still clung to the crimson fabric.  He knew at once that he must preserve this last indelible piece of her.  Jason tiptoed into his studio so that his new bride wouldn’t hear and placed the scarf in a plastic bag so as to contain the wonderful scent.  He looked around for a place to hide it away from prying eyes. His studio was filled with her.  The sadness that was always simmering under the surface came bubbling up and he allowed himself to cry just a little for his lost love.  His gaze flitted from portrait to portrait and even to his clumsy attempt to carve her beauty in alabaster and then he saw it.  He affixed her scarf to the back  of the last photograph he taken of her, he had had it blown up and printed on canvas, it was perfect as was she.

~Melanie Thomason



Image by Florin Radu from Pixabay



Filed under Stories

New Beginnings ~haiku

first light, a fresh start

the last years sins washed away

forgiven by rain

~Melanie Thomason



image from Pixabay


Filed under haiku, Poetry