The 'Port-All'

Copyright- Jean L. Hays

“That room’s got a magic view,” he rushed into the room in breathless excitement.

“Come”, he grabbed my hand and guided me to the door that opened to the garden.  A stained glass decorative item hung from the top.

He described the magical world that lay across the ‘port-all’.  It had a magic dolphin that swam alongside you as your guide in the shimmering blue light.

“You see that purple?  That’s the tail of the invisible deer.”

A pause.

“We should buy this house and stay here forever”.

We did but he left us while the magic was young.

**

Witten for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 99

Narrator Australia - Vol 3

It's strange to see your own work in the print format.   Not entirely sure if this makes me a published author yet.  But it does have two of my short stories in it.  The book is available in the Amazon store now in both print and Kindle formats.  So here is the link to narratorAUSTRALIA-Three on the amazon site.  It is available on the Narrator Australia website too.   

The Victory Dance

He stood on the wooden platform and gazed at the mural.  It was the last one that he had painted.  In vibrant colours it depicted the village chief, sitting under the shade of the trees, deep in consultation with the village council.  They had forged an agreement with the company for sustainable logging that brought them electricity, access to doctors, revenues from the logging, scholarships for their children and new roads.  It was a victory for his people.  Drunk with happiness he did a little jig on the bench.

“Look mummy” the children shouted, “the boots are dancing by themselves”.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers.  Word Count: 100

Spell It Out

The constant stream of visitors was getting irritating.  They had never been the social types and had gone through some effort to acquire this place.  The real estate agent had mentioned an auction.  But as the big fella was personally involved it was easy to ‘persuade’ interested parties to back off.  The owners needed no further convincing and readily signed on the dotted line.

The wooden planks were to deter the nosy parkers and the thorny bushes were a masterstroke.  Yet they kept on ringing the bell.

“Say mister you know your sign is spelled incorrectly?”

Heads would roll.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers.  Word Count: 100      

Putting in an extra entry this week.  Had to.  Especially after reading this brilliant entry violation that made me look at the image again.

           

No Trespassing

Copyright -Randy Mazie

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day you gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special

It was a hard task but he stepped forward tentatively.  A fence now stood in place of open spaces.  A tree of thorns prevented him from climbing in.  Spiky straggling bushes with blood red flowers were taking over.  The wooden planks closed the gaps and he could only grasp the cold metallic bars.

“Leave,” she said, “Ever since you cheated, a ‘No Trespassing’ sign, has sprung up in my heart”.    

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers.  Word Count: 100      

           

Song extract from "LastChristmas" by George Michael

Bleu celeste

With the tourist season long over it was tranquil in the ferry.  Under the golden lights he sat in their spot, with the metal scroll base accented tabletop etched to resemble a mariner’s map.  He gazed over the still waters taking in the colors that changed from a clear blue to pink hue and the undulating hills overlooking the shore.  The blue of the sky brought a reminder of the trip to Madrid, when she turned to him and exclaimed “Mi blusa es celeste”.   He missed her terribly at moments like this and wished he had never pushed her over.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers.  Word count 100.