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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write. Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground. Kiya's gift. I love it!
Everyday Canvas
#929873 added March 3, 2018 at 5:19pm
Restrictions: None
Inside the Closet
prompt: A strange noise is coming from inside the closet. Should you open and explore?

========

True Story: My son and daughter-in-law gave me one of those helium-filled Happy-Birthday balloons. Since the balloon had a clip at its end, I clipped it at the back of the chair I usually sit in. The balloon was moving as I moved, but I didn’t know that since it was in the back of me. Coco, my kids’ dog, saw it from a distance and thought the balloon was attacking me and she went berserk. As soon as we figured out what bothered Coco, I took the balloon into my closet, feeling like a million bucks because the dog stood up for me. Then, we went our merry way the rest of the day, and I forgot about the balloon.

That night, after a while of going to bed, I heard a bizarre noise coming from the closet. That closet is a walk-in closet and it has one door and no windows. “What’s that?” I asked. ”Must be a raccoon outside,” answered my husband. “No, it’s coming from the inside,” I said, “I think it is in the closet.” “Go back to sleep!” said my easy-going hubby in his usual stoical tone.

Heck, no! I couldn’t because the noise continued and in the still of the night, its tone became even harsher.

Was there an animal in there? A snake? One of those Florida creatures? A ghost? Heaven forbid if it were a few Palmetto Bugs having a party! I could handle a ghost, snake, or any other animal, but if it were Palmetto Bugs, I’d have to call the police, the armed forces, state troopers, and God to rescue…

So, armed with the bug spray, I opened the closet door and saw the heart-shaped helium balloon swaying from side to side and kissing my purses that were on the shelf over my shirts.

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