Impure

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The changing colours indicate that our destination draws near.  Our eyes now pick out greenish tinges in the landscape.  Further away the brown branches clawing in the air bring an end to this accursed madness of a silver landscape that surrounds us, from the silver grassy knolls to the silver flowers that grow wild.  

In the beginning they told us that silver symbolised purity and would purge our land of its sins.  The diversity of colour had left us corrupted and deviating from the true path.

So they took upon the task of restoring our purity.  And we let them.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

A look at a dystopian world of the future this time with narrative implying a forced purity in a genetically modified world.  But is it really a dystopian world? Many ideas of  ideological identification, purity and conformity have been floating around during various stages of history all over the world.   Grading of humans has taken place in recorded history, the dystopian world seeks to highlight this point further.  Science fiction literature is full of stories that use genetic engineering as a theme or plot device. 

Magic Mushrooms

PHOTO PROMPT – © Erin Leary

“What do you have for dinner today Jack?”

Mr W was one of the oldest members of our home.  A retired banker, he was nicknamed ‘El Loco’ on account of the elaborate stories that he told.

“Mushrooms Mr W, a very nutritious dinner for you.”

“Nutritious? Bollocks!  I saw the secrets of the Cosmos in the Mixeteco Mountains of Mexico.  Visions conjured up by the divine mushrooms.  Horrible to taste but the visions were real. I felt like God himself.”

“That must have been nice Mr W.”

“Nice my arse, I take it that you’ve never had magic mushrooms before?”

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

Magic mushrooms have existed long before the term was coined but amateur mycologist Rober Gordon Wasson was one of the first outsiders to participate in a Mazatec ceremony and describe it's psychoactive effects.

A Country Escape

PHOTO PROMPT -© Dawn Q. Landau

A country escape was what the real estate agent had promised.  There is a disused train track bordering the estate he said.  The house inspection over she wanted to explore. 

A brisk walk and we were walking along the tracks.  We saw them in the distance, the girl with her backpack and the dog trudging behind her.  We shouted a greeting but they turned into surrounding bushes and went out of sight.

On the way out the agent met us.

“Enjoyed your walk? The locals believe the estate has a ghost child and her dog who wander around”, he chuckled.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

What a change from the late entry last week, an entry on time.  And my second of the week as I was not sure if the first one worked. 

The Runaway

PHOTO PROMPT -© Dawn Q. Landau

They found her body in the creek.  When the call came I knew it was about her as Dad hemmed and hawed motioning to Mum to get me out of the room.

Along the edge of the tracks, fringed by a canopy of green, she had laid bare the tyranny of her life describing the horrors of the nights gone by.  Determined to escape she would follow the tracks to her real father's town. She had trudged off with the faithful Colin trailing behind.

Dad put his sheriff's badge on but I stopped him.

I know why she ran away.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

On time this week.  Submitted on a Friday too.  Though I am not sure about the quality of the post, which is why there are two entries this week.  .The second one a little more upbeat (or so I hope).  It will be nice to get a few more comments than the usual kind hearted folks who drop by here each week (and your comments are much appreciated - thank you)
Update: Have gone through a few edits since my first cut.  One to imply that the narrator's father is the town's sheriff and the girl is intending to run away to her real father.
The other edit is to try and keep the change of tenses so that the switch from current to past and to current works better.  All a part of the challenge of working within 100 words.

Easy Listening

PHOTO PROMPT – © Copyright Marie Gail Stratford

The creature’s black baleful eyes stared at me.  Instinctively I took a step backwards, scared by the sight before me.  

“Call him now”, the words jolted me back to reality.

My colleague sat in the enclosed glass cubical with a goofy grin and the scary contraption on his head.   The crystalline spines on its back vibrated making a loud tinkling noise. 

I knew it was my signal to call when the crystals glowed.

I dialled the number.  The helmet vibrated as I talked and his face contorted like a mime.

His smiling visage signified that the tissue conduction had worked.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

This has been a week of "Why Do Today What You Can Put Off Until Tomorrow" and the submission is along that line too.  Nearly in time for next week.  

A Return To The Plantation

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The house hadn't changed in the years I’d been away.  The gracious trees planted along the driveway and the steps that led to the timber-framed veranda with its white painted balustrades and the carefully manicured lawn.

 A house built on a foundation of stifled screams.

I heard the creaking tones of the rocking chair and knew that he was around.  Every evening he would take off his boots and sit waiting to be served.  Each drink a toast to the devil inside.

There he sat, with a hole in his forehead, just as I had shot him two centuries ago.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

Conquering the Maze

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Melanie Greenwood

To an outside observer it seemed that he was a lost in a labyrinth with each twist and turn leading to a blocked path.  

Hemmed in by judgemental voices ignorant of his gentle soul, even in times of despair he would still find beauty around him.  In the kindness of strangers, with people who poured their hearts out to him, revealing inner torments, aspirations and hopes.  

In the end the maze would be conquered, the thorns discarded, leaving only flowers exploding in a cornucopia of colours resonating with love.

A year gone by does not lessen the void left behind.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

It is getting to be an year since I wrote In Our Hearts forever.  On a personal level this has been a time of remembrance which is perhaps reflecting on what I write.  Maybe this is too personal to share but the reason I do this is to grow and develop and find the courage to share the thoughts and emotions bottled inside.  

Pulling the Plug

PHOTO PROMPT - Copyright Ted Strutz

Growing up I remember my uncle’s fondness for spicy food and the many women that he dated and discarded.

Meera who prepared Laal Maas spiced with the “Mathania redchilli”.

Rosy’s Pork Vindaloo simmered in coconut, vinegar and lots of red chilli peppers.

Jincy and her Kozi Kari cooked with hot fresh green chilli and dried ground red chilli peppers.

And finally it was Aunt Shanti who fed us fiery Chettinad food and him curd and boiled rice.

I raised an eye at his plate.

He sighed “I had to pull the plug on spicy food on the doctor’s advice”.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

This week I am still in India taking in the vast variety of food that is on offer, promising myself that I will exercise once this trip is over.  There is no single standard and homogenous Indian cuisine and the regional variations in food are many.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_cuisine

One of things I should do when I get back is maybe turn the hand written book of recipes that my mother made for us into an e-book.  

The Journey

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Georgia Koch

Alone in the inky darkness I fear there are no passengers tonight.  It had been a day of gloomy promise and now the boat stands grounded under the light of the stars.

For centuries have I steered it through the foul stench of ash, excrement, blood and the pall of the burning flesh.  The sides caked with vomit as they realise that there is no going back. 

I hear reluctant steps treading towards the craft.  He stands at the edge unwilling to get in but I ask for my fare, a mere coin, mine to row past the dreaded hound.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

This week I am at the Jaipur Literature Festival soaking in the atmosphere and pretending to be a writer.  Have already seen some great talks and am looking forward to more.

Food to Die For

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

He gazed at her apartment on the other side of the courtyard where the pots of brilliant red geraniums added a splash of colour to the drab gray cemented tiles.

He had been cooking since she accepted his invitation to a meal.  Once the menu was decided it was just a matter of sourcing the right ingredients.  Lung and Loin Bourguignonne, Tandoori Liver and thigh baked in clay with marrow with tiny Lady Apples on the side.

Only the best tableware with the finest crystal set on damask tablecloth would do to commemorate another culinary triumph for Dr Hannibal Lecter.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

This week's entry is a bit late (almost in line to be next week's entry).  The food choice for this post was inspired by janice poon's blog. 

The Road to Salvation

Copyright - Jean L.Hays

I dream of unattainable love and really glamorous clothes.   Of a life so far removed from the one I lead.  Brushing aside questions of bruises and closed eyes, followed by whispering silences where ever I go.   

The lashes endured were a testament to my love.  He loved me and he beat me.  The days when he ignored me were like torture.  But love was never meant to be like this.  I know that now.

The road to salvation starts here.  A step taken forward means that there is no turning back.  A fresh start and a new beginning await me.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

Here we go again.  Another year and another prompt.  I was going to leave it with an ambiguous ending but the new year has to start with hope. Happy blogging and writing to all.

Chronicle of the Nomad

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright -Björn Rudberg

The grass grew in tussocks along the flight of stone stairs.  The moss clung to walls and the wild flowers that smelled like honey danced in the winter sun. 

The fort still conveyed a sense of lost grandeur, with its double-storied bastions and gigantic towers that housed within the grand palace and audience halls.   But nature was waging a war on the abandoned fort and winning.

In its place now stood a crumbling edifice fighting the vicissitudes of time.

Sab thaath para rehjavega, Jab laad chalega banjara

(All your splendor will lie useless, when the nomad packs-up and leaves).

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

When I wrote my last blog post Fragrance of Memories little did I know that I would be attending my mother's funeral in less than a week.  So when I saw this week's prompt of the crumbling ruins, I was reminded of these lines from Banjaranama that my mother used to often quote.

If you are a millionaire, and your stores are brimming,
Know, O ignorant! There is always another merchant who is even greater than you.
What of your sugar, candy, jaggery and nuts? What of your doughs, sweet and salty?
What of your grapes, raisins, ginger and pepper? What of your saffron, cloves and betel?
All your splendor will lie useless, when the nomad packs-up and leaves.

I will miss her but I am grateful to all these little nuggets that she left behind which remain close to my heart.

Fragrance of Memories

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright Janet Webb

When growing up, I watched my mother wield a large pair of clippers and go at the Cherry Blossoms that edged our yard.  She would fill a vase with warm water and dunk the spindly branches with buds that were still tight. 

Within a week we would witness the unfurling with an unbounded joy that still stays with me.

In the first year without her, an unseasonal storm left us carpeted under snow.  When it was over I ventured outside with the clippers in my hand.

Later the family gathered around the flowers and inhaled the fragrance of her memories.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

No songs this time only a link to a poem