My sweet grand pup, Sir Lancelot, was a rock of devotion, steadfast and ever true - always ensuring the security of our home.

The alien came out of nowhere

Big and fast and round

Slithering on its belly

With a boastful, angry sound.

I sprung into quick action

Always prepared for the worst

I’d show this alien a thing, maybe two

Attack just like I’d always rehearsed.

I barked and I barked until out of breath

Bared my teeth and gave a fierce growl

Then I pounced on that alien’s really long neck

Stopping him dead in his tracks with a big howl.

My master paused and gave me a smirk

(Of praise cuz I'm savage, of that I am sure);

I stood ever ready between the two

Ensuring my universe stayed all secure.

I bit its neck, best to check it was immobile

I’d show this alien its rightful spot

So, pulling, I moved it to the trash bin

Where I was hellbent it could sit and rot.

Strangely enough, that was my last rescue

My master has banished me to the outside

That damn alien’s enjoying all the comforts of home

While my living conditions have all been downsized.

When the bell rang, I thought it was my mom coming to pick me up.

“I got it,” I yelled as I ran to answer the door.

There were two men in suits. One held up a badge.

“I’m Agent Brown from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is Agent Henderson. May we come in?”

“Lily! There’s two men here from the FBI!”

My great-grandmother, Lily, came to the door.

“Get inside, Danny,” she said to me. I ran to the living room and sat next to my Granny who’d been dozing while watching the Mets lose. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

“Are you Ginny Dorsey?”

“No. I’m Lillian Hope. Ginny Dorsey is my mama.”

“Is she here?”

“What is this about?”

“Can we come in?”

“We’re two old ladies and a young girl. I don’t feel comfortable.”

“We can come back with the police, if you prefer.”

“What in God’s name is this about?”

“Let’em in, Lillian” Granny said in her raspy voice.

“Can we offer you some coffee or tea, gentlemen?” Granny asked once they were seated. Lily was standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, arms crossed and kind of evil looking. As usual. Granny was on the couch, me next to her. Mr. Brown was in the chair next to Buddha and Mr. Henderson was next to the tv. The Mets had just scored.

“No, ma’am.”

“I think you know why we’re here, Mrs. Dorsey.”

“I ’spose, suh.”

“Are you Virginia Dorsey, born December 8, 1886?”

“Yes, suh.”

“Were you raised in Dublin, Georgia on the Hicks plantation?”

“Yes, suh.”

“Did you leave the plantation in 1904?”

“Thereabouts.”

“Did you give birth to a girl-child that same year?”

“Yes, suh.”

“Was the father of that child, Harold Hicks, son of the plantation owner? The same Mr. Hicks you accused of raping you and who subsequently was found in his bed, neck slit and castrated?”

Granny was silent.

“Mrs. Dorsey?”

“Mama said he raped me. I didn’t say ’nuthin atall.”

"Ma’am. We’ve read the original file. The killer was never found. There were plenty of suspects, given that apparently Mr. Hicks was not a well-liked man, but no one suspected you because you’d been sent off months before he was found murdered. Isn’t that right?”

“Mama sent me to cousin Modene in Atlanta.”

“But you returned one night, didn’t you, Mrs. Dorsey?”

“I was gonna marry Henry Simple. But after Mr. Hicks put that baby in me, Henry didn’t want me no more. He said he loved me, but it weren’t true. I thought my life was over – like so many other girls Mr. Hicks cornered in the fields, around town and in his house when his mama and daddy weren’t around. It was his fault.

“A few years later, George Dorsey came along. He was a good man. A good husband and a good daddy.”

“I wish I had met him,” I said, hugging Granny.

“Mrs. Dorsey, did you or did you not return to the Hicks plantation and murder Harold Hicks in his bed in October 1904?”

“What’s your name, son?”

“Agent Brown.”

“Agent Brown, I am 96 years old. Harold Hicks has been dead for almost 80 years. I have seen two world wars, the Korean War, the Vietnam War. I have seen the world go from horse and buggies to cars, trucks, buses, trains, planes and a man on the moon. I have seen more suffering than a body should, but I lived to raise my daughters, my granddaughter and my great grandchildren. My great- great- granddaughter is here with me now,” she said this, hugging me to her side. “I have been blessed with love and a good life, despite all the hardships.” She paused. “In spite of Mr. Hicks.”

“Did you kill Mr. Hicks?”

“You got my letter, didn’t you?”

“What letter, Mama?” Lily interjected.

“I sent Danny out last time she was visiting. I needed to get it off my chest before it was too late. Didn’t expect visitors though.”

“What are you talking about, Mama?”

Granny looked at Agent Brown. “Yes, suh. It was me.”

Agent Brown stood up while Agent Henderson took out his handcuffs. “Ginny Dorsey, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…”

Granny was too frail to walk, so Agent Brown carried her down the five flights of stairs. She died before they reached the bottom.

Natural causes.

short answer is no, but ive never been one to shut up so ima tell you exactly why its a no. love is more than a moment, more than an experience and so much more than a word. love is a whole ass journey that flashes so many feelings into our brains, feelings to big for words. that's why we feel as if we could die for the other person that we love, because of how selfish we are we would never give up our chance to live for anyone else, but from loving another we have been enraveled into so many emotions regarding love that we put aside our selfish needs and wants and are willing to give up everything for another. my point to all this is that love cant be enveloped into a short glance, it must grow over time and trust. so no, love at first sight ridiculous of a concept because it is quite to big of a sensation.

Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.

What does dating a mortician, roadkill shoutouts, Shakespeare, tons of talent new to the site and our resident legends, a bad haircut, and over the counter flu meds have in common? The answer needs to be, "Nothing," but in today's video, each of those elements, and a few more, collide into each haiku in our last Challenge of the Week being read, after introducing the new Challenge of the Month, with a bit of pizzazz on this one.

Here's that link.

https://www.theprose.com/challenge/14207

And here's the link to the video on The Prose. Channel. I know for sure I dropped or misread a few words or usernames, but show mercy, if you would. I'll tag some of the writers in the comments, and a few writers new to Prose.

And, to them, from us: Big family home here. Pick a room, and walk downstairs for the feast, whenever you feel like it. Welcome home.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-FIElCwRN3Y

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.

In today's vid on the channel, we look at two user challenges, some damn good writing, and the accidental death of a recent video. Oh, and if you're going to record without headphones in frame, uplug them. An old dog learned a new trick for next time. Anyway: Here's the link.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-StiZEFTtEk

And.

As always........

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team