The Miniature Turtle

Heinz Florentine is a miniature turtle. I found him on my front porch smoking a pall mall the size of tooth pick. His head was in his shell, but I saw his eyes, and his mouth blew out puffs of smoke. He sat on my table where my pen and paper were. To my sedated surprise, much like a dream, he spoke to me very softly. "Sit down, sunshine. Write something for me."
I told him that my mind was too full of reality. "….All the more reason, my darling girl."
I asked him where he came from, and he didn't answer. I asked him again, and he didn't answer. He sighed though.
I asked, "why are you here?" He poked his head out, and just puffed.
The wind blew harder, and it scooted him across the table...an inch closer to the edge.
I forgot about what I had asked...for my mind was suddenly too concerned for his safety. So,
I built him a little shelter from the storm that was approaching.

"Thank you", he said. "You're Welcome, Turtle." "My name is, Heinz." He insisted, with
more expression.
"You're a strange turtle", I told him. "You're silent when I ask you important questions, but you insist on the importance of your name!"

"You are pretty strange yourself, human...I won't answer most questions, but I will always tell you the truth."

He sat on a pedestal that operated like an exposed elevator. When it was too windy he lowered it in his roofless house by the pull of my shoe-string, and when it was the wind subsided, he rose to the top where I could hear him better.

We talked of memories. We argued the importance of them, and we agreed to disagree.
I warned him of my cats, and he asked for a magic wand.
I didn't answer him, but I told him the truth with
a smile.

To be continued somewhere, sometime.

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