Friday, October 17, 2014

The Shell

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

The little shells were littered across her workshop.   A veritable cornucopia of molluscs in an assortment of shapes and colour pleasing to behold.  

There was a time when people were happy to get just a seashell, with their iridescent insides reflecting the colours of the sea.  Put one close to your ear and hear the rushing of the sea-tides. Close your eyes and smell the salty breeze. 

But now they wanted works of art, framed and decorated with natural stones, sea stars and corals.

Surely you know her? She sells sea shells by the sea shore from her web store.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100



Wednesday, October 08, 2014

Songs from the Big Chair

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

I play the songs in my head these days.  They are the songs from the bigchair where I now sit and narrate my story.

To those who ask why I retained the studio after the members left, I respond that it was the musical memory that I wished to keep alive.

Music presents an emotion that your soul can react to.  It is like experiencing the emotions of other people.  But you recognise and react to it in your own way with a sense of joy or deep melancholia.


I only killed them so that their music would survive.

***


Written for 
Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100


Missing too many prompts recently, couldn't let this one go.  Not after the wonderful story by Rochelle.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

The Colours of Life

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford

“I see trees of green, red roses, too”

The warm glow morning had crept up on the lone sleeper in the park.  In a few moments plants would be bathed in dappled summer light.  The warm yellow hues of sunlight spreading hope across the lawn.  The grass itself lush green, growing thickly entwined, and woven together like a Persian carpet of the finest kind.  It’s delicious softness better than any mattress.

Would he ever wake up to see the iridescent blue butterfly flitting through flowers?


The drink that ruled his life would leave him bereft of the colours of life.


***


Written for 
Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

I missed the last two prompts struck down by a strange inertia that stopped me from contributing. Maybe the colour blue was involved.  But this is the start of a brand new year for me now so I had to put an entry in for the week.  Along with one of my favourite songs. 


Saturday, September 06, 2014

The Liberating Fire

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The fire blazed, yellow flames crackling as I stood in front of the funeral pyre lost in my thoughts.  Once where there was life was now engulfed by the blaze.  

The ancients had said that when the body is burned the fire frees the soul.  The funeral hymn of the Vedas invokes Agni, the lord of the fire, minister of sacrifice, the giver of wealth. 

Is there life after death?  Do our deeds liberate us from saṃsāra, the cycle of death and rebirth?


The cremation was over and they could never do an autopsy now.  The fire does indeed liberate.


***


Written for 
Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

I didn't think I was going to write this time having been knocked out by viral fever for the whole week.  But finally the meds do their thing, the fever and the aches subsides and I seem to breathe normally again (after sounding like Darth Vader this whole week).  So maybe that's why its a darker theme this week. 

But here is some lighter music to make it better.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Grub's Up


PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Madison Woods
I see it wriggling with yellow goo seeping out of its side.  My companions look at me with a mix of revulsion and expectancy.  I should have never volunteered. 

Squelch.

The rains have been good and it is fat having gorged on sap from roots of the Witchetty Bush.

The yellow stuff dribbles out onto my finger as I gag at the first attempt.

My mouth goes to work.  The flavour they said is like fried egg with a hint of nuts.  I focus on finishing it.  

I see her watching me with a smile.  Was it worth it? Probably.
***

Written for 
Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

And before you ask it is all fiction.  There are still a few things I don't eat, while I'll try and keep an open mind on Witchetty Grubs, I have no immediate plans to include them in my diet.  Though Bush Tucker is a different matter altogether. And the music is something else.


Friday, August 22, 2014

A Project Like Noah

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright-Roger Bultot
I stood in the university’s car park with a stunned look on my face.

“Please don’t tell me you spent our entire budget on that?”

My brother and I were going on a road trip.  Twelve months of mapping routes and covering the iconic trails of our dreams.  While I was planning he was preparing our ride, an old Johnston truck, for the trip.


The dilapidated truck overrun by vegetation was a reminder of how people had laughed at us. 

“Relax,” he said, “When you start a huge, foolish project like Noah, it makes absolutely no difference what people think.”

***

Written for 
Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

 When Rochelle provided a spark from Hafiz, I felt maybe this week was a good time to use Sufi poetry for inspiration.  For better or verse My choice was Rumi.  
And after posting it here, I decided to make some little tweaks so that it's clear who says the final sentence.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Laughter and Sorrow

Copyright Jan Wayne Fields
Grandad often reminisced about his elder brother, a man whose laughter could fill a room and spread contagiously amongst his audience. 

Born to the wealthy landed gentry he flitted through life charming everyone he met.  Ever the prankster they still talk about the day he flew a pair of underpants on the Town Hall’s mast head. 

Yet behind the bluster hid a man troubled by demons within.  Later while his face crinkled in a wry smile the sorrow would flirt at the edges.  Till one day he locked himself in the study and shut the door on his life forever. 

***

Written for 
Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100


 With the events of this past week I have a feeling that this episode of the Fictioneers might have a similar theme running through it.  The black dog visits some of us and they need all the help and support that we can give them.
 
R.I.P Robin Williams! It's hard to pay an adequate tribute to an artiste who gave us so much.