Poppy Playtime Arts Novels & Stories

she said, her voice so fast it was almost difficult to understand, as she left the room once again, practically running towards the auditorium where the Father's Day performance would take place. “You shouldn’t have left putting those bows on the brownies at the last possible moment, Poppy!” Cassie grumbled, but still didn't stop applying the glue stick to the glittery paper bows. “It’s not my fault!” Poppy whimpered, desperately trying to glue the bows onto the cellophane of the brownies she was giving her father as a gift “Mom told me she would order the brownies and the baker would make them beautiful, like on my birthday, but then yesterday she said she read on the internet that crafts a

“So we can do anything to her?” “Anything,” Reynold replied smoothly. “Use her any way you want.” Dave asked cautiously, “No interference from you?” “Give me some credit,” Reynold chuckled. “I want to see if my slut can perform for me, so I won’t be interfering at all.” The guys asked for a moment to talk it over. Reynold nodded. “Okay, Poppy, why don’t you go to the restroom and freshen up? I feel you’re going to be very busy for the next two hours.”

“What are you two doing, you little rascals?” “Tea party!” Renee cheers, hands in the air. “It’s supposed to be bedtime,” AJ’s mock-serious voice says from behind the phone. Payton shakes her head. “No, Daddy, it’s our tea party time! Mommy said so!” “Oh really, and where is she?” AJ questions. I see Renee put her small hand in her mouth and shrug her shoulders. “Hey girls, do anything fun while your uncle’s been busy?” “Yeah, I watched your game! You beat Daddy again!” His eldest says.

“Look, Miss Justice, it’s unfortunate that we had to meet under these circumstances, but you have to realize that your little party over there was inappropriate for this neighborhood, and the music was entirely too loud.” “Look, Mr. Parker,” I sassed back. “The only unfortunate thing about the situation is that you’re ignorant of your county’s laws. The noise ordinance states that there should be no excessive noise after 10:30, which is a little less than two hours from now,” I spat.

Baby steps. Poppy has no entertainment or anything to watch from a young age. I had her study and started very young until she was ready to watch higher-than-PG-rated movies. I also grew up watching little shows, but they were mostly about news and drama while in foster care. I was told cartoons are for good kids; news or documentary shows are for children who don't obey.

She clung to the wall while the boss stood up from the bed majestically, his eyes dainted at Elena who was already in tears. The boss tapped on his phone, and suddenly, hip hop music began to fill the room. Elena’s eyes widened in surprise as she tried to comprehend what was happening. “Dance, Puppy, Dance,” the boss smirked, a command laced with authority. “Dance?” Elena whispered, her hands still instinctively clasped around herself, taken aback by the unexpected demand. “Yes. You embarrassed me by refusing to dance with me at the club. Now, you’ll dance until your legs can't carry you anymore,” the boss declared, stepping closer to Elena. She recoiled against the wall, as if attempting to

“We need more formula for Michelle and get the toddler one for Poppy and Clover. They need more than just juice.” “Yes captain.” He said as he walked back and got the formula cans for Michelle and the toddler powder they had talked about getting Henry a few times. When he walked back he saw another set of older woman getting ready to go in for a few comments at Deanna and the kids. He swore under his breath. When he got to the cart he placed everything else in and then looked around at the toys and blankets. He picked poppy up first and then walked over to the selection. “Which one do you want princess Poppy?” Poppy didn’t understand what he was asking so he picked one off the shelf and he a

She didn't quite know where it had come from—an amalgamation of words from art class and concepts from her recent movie review for her English coursework. The guys stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. "See." Drake tapped her on the head. "She has got a brain inside there somewhere." Not sure if it was a veiled insult or a compliment, Dailey made a face that was half-smile, half-frown as she continued to watch the show. The characters pulling at her, drawing her in, planting the seeds of a new obsession. She even liked the sound of the word, Pleiades. 'A battle maid,' she thought with a smile, looking up at Drake. He had the cutest nose, and she wanted to stare, but whene

Dante stood beside me, hands in his pockets, looking almost sheepish. "Is this okay?" "It's perfect." "Marco suggested it. Said we should turn the place where everything went wrong into something good." I leaned into his side. "Marco is smarter than both of us." "Don't tell him that. His ego is already unbearable." I looked around at the bright walls, the new windows, the teenagers playing basketball in the back lot. This was the future. Not blood and secrets and whispered threats, but something open. Something honest. "You've changed," I said.

Behind me, someone groaned. A wet, throaty kind of sound. Like someone trying to swallow pain but failing miserably. I smiled to myself, drying each finger meticulously before sliding on my black leather gloves, one by one. I took my time. Good art often calls for patience. On the kitchen counter sat a small, dark chocolate coloured suede pouch. I flipped it open gently. Inside, nestled in neat rows like precious instruments, were my scalpels—different shapes, different edges, all polished to a fault. I admired them for a moment. So delicate, yet so misunderstood.